Author's Note: This story has no relation whatsoever to Terror. I do not plan to continue this, however if I get a request for either A. a different student's UNRELATED suicide note or B. Rachel's suicide note to another student, I may consider it. No promises due to the fact that it depends on my inspiration!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the words that you see before you. Although I doubt I technically own even those. Basically, Glee and it's characters do not belong to me. This story was inspired by JohnnnnnyBoyyy's story titled "The Suicide Notes".

The Ugly

My dearest Dad and Daddy,

I know that I have broken your hearts. The only consolation I feel that I can give you is this: take comfort in the fact that my heart is now whole. As I sit here, writing my final goodbye to you, I feel nothing. I shed no tears. I am so sorry for the pain that my death will cause you, but all I can feel for myself is relief.

Over the last few months I felt like each day bestowed a new fracture upon my already fragile heart. Though you know me at home as your happy star, the truth is that my tormentors at school are much worse than I ever let you believe. Day after day, I hear the comments. I find the anonymous notes stuffed through the vents of my locker. I'm on the receiving end of what is now affectionately known as a Slushie Facial. They tell me I'm ugly, and a freak. I need a nose job, I need to stop talking, I need to go away, I need to do this or I need to do that. I tried to do the things they said. I tried to stop wearing the sweaters with cats and dogs on them. I tried to talk like a teenager. I tried. It never made any difference. There isn't just one thing about me that I need to fix. All of me is wrong. All that is inside of me is wrong. I'm broken and no matter what I do I can't be fixed.

Sticks and stones, right Daddy? Except words do hurt. When your greatest insecurities about yourself are thrown back in your face everyday, it solidifies them. I don't like what is wrong with me. How can I expect anyone else to like it either? Why did I expect them to tolerate all of these abnormalities that will never go away? I don't know why I have to be the one who is ruined. It hurts so much sometimes I forget how to breathe. I force the air in and out but no matter how deep the breath I take is, there is no oxygen in the air and I'm suffocating. My lungs burn. I'm trapped inside this broken body, this broken mind, and I'm screaming inside. I want to get out, I want to get rid of these demons inside of me but they are in there and I can't. I try to breathe but there is no air. Do you know how much your lungs burn when you can't find any air? I'm tired of having lungs that burn. I'm tired of suffocating.

For a long time, I pushed it aside. The juvenile antics were all a result of jealousy. I have something else inside of me, I know. Something no one else on the world can touch. A talent unlike any other possessed by another person. But what good is a talent deep down inside if there are all of these deformities burying it? This beautiful talent is wrapped inside this hideous baggage. Nothing can survive that. Not talent, not me. I can't survive this ugly outer shell any longer. It has overcome my talent and it has overcome me.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted this to be a lovely, poetic goodbye that you could read whenever you needed comfort but I need you to understand why I had to go. I didn't want you to see the ugliness inside of me but showing you is the only way for you to understand. I couldn't stay here anymore. I don't belong here. I know you love me with all of your hearts and I loved you with what was left of mine. But it just wasn't enough to fix me. I'm sorry.

The taunting has become more personal, lately. The comments I hear when I pass through the hallway are from the mouths of my club mates, not just nameless tormentors. I'm the only semblance of professional talent in Glee. The only one who had a true chance of getting out of Lima and making something of myself. Making a name for myself. A name that doesn't instigate a frozen drink being thrown, but instead applause and admiration. But it's not enough for them to even pretend they can tolerate me. Sometimes it stings so badly and all I can do is try to hold on. There is nothing to hold on to anymore. Even the people who depend on me, depend on my voice, can't hold in their disgust. Glee was my last chance at happy. My last chance to push the bad down inside of me until it was tucked so far away I would forget it was ever there. But that didn't happen. I can't run from it and I can't hide it. The ugly is everywhere now. It has taken over everything. It has taken over my happy.

Everything is gone. My drive, my ambition. My talent, my joy. My heart. It's all dead now. It's dead inside of me and all I have left is a body gasping for air. All that is left is the ugly.

If no one else loves me, then how can I love me? I can't. I don't.

I'm sorry.

The end.

Author's Note 2: Sorry for killing Rachel yet again. I don't know why I pick on her so much : / Thank you very much for reading and I'd love to hear any opinions you may want to share!