And if we feel the silence
Holding this all inside
Everything means more now than
Words could explain

One question: what can't be done?
You tear me down with the same thing
There's nothing the end, it's begun
What can you do when it all drains down?

The day is finally over.

Not over, over, it is still 11PM. But you got the meaning, right?

I'm home, no one else is home, so I'm alone. Me, alone. Like an old lady that only have cats as me company, only I don't have cats and I'm not old. So here I am, pretending to watch TV while I keep overthinking what happened today. Overthinking… I don't think that word exists. It's a good word though, it should exist.

So, about today… Welcome to yet another One Of The Worst Days of My Life, with, yet again, Meredith Grey as your host. "Today, Derek, my pseudo-boyfriend told me he kissed another girl. And he also told me – and I quote – He Doesn't Know What To Do. Aw, poor Derek! After that, and, actually, before too, I told him I love him! Yey for communication! And to close this day with a golden key, I poured my heart out to him and he didn't say a thing – not even a single word! This is all for today, folks, but don't worry, you'll see me here more often than you can imagine."

Mental Note: stop imagining myself hosting afternoon TV shows. Specially the ones where I'm the program subject.

Now that we're done pretending I'm taking this freakin' day well, where the hell is that damn ice-cream?!

There you go, always
See if I care faded
Down, don't you know where I'll be
'Cuz I'm here, on my own

The ice-cream was in the fridge, behind something I can't really describe. They probably don't have a cool word like overthinking for that indescribably-disgusting-brown-thing in the fridge.

Now that I'm officially alone and officially over denial, I guess it's ok for me to fall apart.

Again.

I know I'm a walking cliché. Actually, I'm the definition of a cliché. I slept with my boss. My married boss. I fell in love with a married guy, who said he'd leave his wife for me, but surprisingly didn't (this is the ironical-me, if you didn't notice). I slept with my best friend. I almost exploded.. ok, that isn't a cliché but I cant leave that out of my year retrospective. Where was I? Oh, I slept with my ex during a date with my now-also-ex-boyfriend. I went back to the guy to dumped me after being hurt countless times. I almost drowned in a tub. I actually drowned in the sea (again, not a cliché but had to be mentioned). I said I'd change my life after a back-from-the-dead experience and I didn't. Change, I mean. And then my ex(?)-boyfriend dumped me after sex, and then he flirted with my sister (half-sister), and then he begged me to break up with him, and, well, I did.

All of this cliché talk just to say I'm still a cliché. Because I still want him.

And when I told him I wanted him… I was, and still am, scared of doing it. At the time, because I feared that something like the sequence of events that took place today could happen. And now… well, now, because I have no idea if he wants me or not, and I simply hate being in the dark over something as important and life-changing as this.

I still can't believe I've made a speech. I mean, how many times did I tell him "I want you" and "I love you"? Wait, don't tell me. I'm better off not knowing it.

My point is, my whole life was a cliché. And after meeting him, I committed the cliché of believing that he would be my prince charming and save me from my bad-clichés lifestyle to a Disney-movies-fairy-tale-cliché one, which I really wouldn't mind living. He had the hair, and the words, and the feelings – everything was working perfect until, well, until something went wrong.

And something went really wrong in the way. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, hating myself even more for not being able to hold myself together.

I just can't take it anymore, you know? Hoping that things will end up better, and actually believing things will end up better is beyond exhausting. Specially when every time you have happy moment you have a horrible-please-let-me-erase-this-from-my-memory moment. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him. I'm sick of being in love.

This whole thing is like a bad shoe, the kind of shoe that no matter how pretty it is, and how comfortable it seems to be, whenever you wear it you feel like a car ran over your feet, and you end up going back to the store and finding out you can't return it.

Not that I regret what I feel for him. I have great, amazing, breathtaking memories from our moments together. But the thing is, I also have a huge box that takes me back to moments I wish I had never lived, because I never thought I could get hurt in so many ways.

So this is it; this is the story of Meredith Grey.

The girl without a father.

The girl who loved tequila.

The girl who slept with many, many boys.

Until the day she met a different boy.

And I became the kind of girl who'd gladly give everything in me to get rid of my past and start a new life, but found out it was not enough.

Maybe I'm just not meant to have a happy ending, you know?

Maybe some people are meant to be depressed and miserable, so the happy people can look at them and realize how happy they actually are.

So Derek, if not only a neurosurgeon you're also a mind reader, please come back to me.

Waiting, when I'm waiting
(downtown now)
I've been here before,
and I don't care where I'm going
So I'll stay...

Pausing the self-pity moment, he did say it wasn't all my fault.

It isn't all my fault.

Is that supposed to make me fell better? Because it didn't help a lot. He is still not here.

Damn, the spoon hit the bottom of the pot. The ice-cream is over already. And my hand, I'm… shaking. It's not cold, but I'm shaking. And my face is all… water, I need water before I dehydrate. I can't believe I'm actually dehydrating because of him.

He does not deserve having me dehydrating for him.

No matter that I love him. And that he told me I was the love of his life.

Is it past tense? "Was"?

I need to stop giving myself fake hopes.

And I need to stop with the self-pity.

Seriously.

Damn tears, they don't stop coming. Please, please stop. You're my body, you should do what I'm telling you to. Great, now I'm starting to have a headache.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You've made it without him once Meredith, you can do it again.

When you walk don't leave a note
Just put your hands on the back door
When you talk it's just a joke
Just know, I can't take it anymore

I guess I shouldn't tell myself that I never moved on from him, but it's too late for that now.

It's too late for many things now.

Too late, too late…

I run my hands over my face again, only to find I didn't stop crying. Somehow, crying became sort of an automatic thing for me. And I really don't think that's a good thing.

Not that I'm thinking right now. My mind is a blank.

A huge, dark blank with his face stamped right in the middle. Which actually means it's not a blank, but saying that he's the only thing on my mind is the last cliché I need right now. So it's just a blank. A Derek-blank.

I really wish I could hate him right now.

More ice-cream is the way to go.

I go back to the living room with strawberry ice cream, holding the spoon in my mouth (the sobs finally ceased) as I try to open the pot using my both hands.

And that's when I hear it.

Steps. Steps outside the door.

They are quiet, coy, steps, but I've definitely heard them.

So I do what any normal person in a horror movie would do, I walk to the door and open it just a little to see it there's a serial killer outside.

Now that my sarcasm-mode is on... Oh, the suspense is killing me.

It's dark. And it's raining, I didn't even notice when it started raining. Instead of a serial killer holding a shinny knife, I see a guy. A regular guy standing in the rain. A guy with black hair, curiously studding me with his oh-so-amazing indigo eyes (which are not amazing since I'm over him). His left arm is lifted, and he looks at his watch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask tiredly after taking the spoon out of my mouth. I should've told him I didn't want the I'm-Sorry-Let's-Be-Friends kind of break up, even though I think that saying this can be considered covered, as I already told him I don't want pieces of him.

"Wait." He says, immediately moving his eyes from his watch to me, back and forth, back and forth…

"What?"

"It will only take a minute. Literally." Is he grinning? He is grinning. He is so grinning. How can he be grinning?! I can't believe this is happening. I'm standing in my doorway, with puffy, sore red eyes, looking as great as I'm feeling and he asks me to wait?

Are you back just yet,
Waiting now please come set me free,
And the only sound is a minute left.

Haven't I waited long enough?

Can't he just leave me the hell alone?

Anyway, what does he wants me to wait for? Daisy, Lilly, Sunflower, whatever her name is, is gonna show up in a couple of minutes so he can give me a live presentation of how happy they are together?

"Oh, Meredith, everything is so much easier now that you're out of our way to happiness!"

Maybe she'll hug me.

I hope she understands that that's equal to beg me to kill me.

I wish I could take her tiny neck and twist it.

Oh gosh.

I'm becoming Cristina.

Jealousy is a bitch.

This could be, this could be the last time

Either way, Cristina would help me hiding me corpse. She's me person.

He looks really, really nervous. If I didn't hate him and wasn't over him, I'd find it cute.

Again, I don't find it cute. I'm just observing and making a bitter observation.

Maybe I can do sarcastic me, after all.

Derek, me, watch, me, watch, I think he'll distend a muscle from all the smiling.

This watch thing is becoming an obsession.

"It's the next day." He says, pausing to breathe. "Today.. today is tomorrow."

Thank you for the great memories that sentence brings back, sweetie.

I stare him sternly. Or at least I think I am. His face twitches slightly at my warm welcome, but he is still smiling that stupid McDreamy smile I hate myself for loving.

"Midnight." He enthusiastically shows me his watch. 12:00. Great thing, he knows how to read the hours. "It's the next day and I can't believe I've ever had a doubt." He say in that dreamy, make you forget any notion of time, voice.

It's a chance to fix mistakes,
One more for the last time

Did he just say that or am I hallucinating again? I had no idea this dehydrating thing was so serious. I try to grip onto the ice-cream harder, only to find out I dropped it somewhere in between his last sentence. Which I don't have the slightest idea of what it meant, by the way.

Ok, maybe I have, but I'm over fake-hopes, right?

But truth to be told, I can't actually picture a dark-n'-twisty scenario after what he said.

He comes a step closer.

He is really wet.

Soaked.

Not that I notice it, because I don't care.

I hope he catch the flu. Yeah, I'm that nasty and over him.

Observing, I'm an observing person.

"I'm so sorry I've put you through this again, Mer…" He lifts his hand and I decide to step back. But when I feel his cold, wet hand on my face and it still makes my skin burn, well, I change my mind. "It's you, it has always been you, I can't believe how stupid I was." He laughs lightly as he cups my face with his hands.

Is this actually happening?

Along the staircase,
I dream to hear you,
In a whisper quiet room,
Space for thinking,
Space to scream to,
But the echoes sound like you,
Not the stars at night,
In a pitch black sky,
I don't know just wants to see you
But the time is right and it only flies
This could be, this could be the last time

Oh my God.

This is happening. He is in my doorway telling me he does want, want me. Ok, he didn't actually say those words, but they were implied.

I can't move.

I can't speak.

All I can do is bit my bottom lip and smile at the same time.

This is happening.

This is happening.

And I have no idea of what's going to happen next.

He looks at me with such… adoration in his eyes. Like my messy hair, red eyes with dark circles under them and my annoying habit of biting lip are the most stunning, breathtaking thing he has ever seen.

They are coming again. The tears, I mean. But these are happy tears. The kind of tears I can't remember the last time I cried. So I lift my hands and hold his, as if looking for some support. Because I do feel like I could fall from cloud nine at any time.

His smiles widens, if that's even possible. And then I move my hands to his face.

And he leans into me.

And he kisses me.

His lips are against mine.

It's soft, so soft…

And then I can't think.

My mind is a huge white, bright-and-shiny Derek blank.

And I really do hope it stays that way.

It's only us,
It's only now,
A simple wish,
It's so late tonight.

So, today.

I'll tell you what happened last week, but forgive me if it sounds a little like the end of a soap-opera, with all the happy-mushy moments.

Only last week, well, it didn't have a terrible plot.

And it wasn't a cliché.

You're probably asking yourself what happened after Derek came over. I asked him to come inside and change because he was… soaked. And get your mind out of the gutter, nothing happened!

At least not that night, I smirk.

Ok, back to the subject: he came inside, and got pretty surprised when he found that I didn't make a bonfire with his cloths, apparently angry girlfriends are supposed to do that.

I've already made a mental note not to forget that.

Just in case he gets out of the line.

Anyway, we sat on the couch (the one with ice-cream pots all around it) and we talked. We actually talked. And it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. People really can surprise you.

So he told me about Rose (I still hate her) and about how confused he had been feeling. I really hate how he has his way with words, so I'll quote what he said so it will have the same effect it had on me. I went on like – "I can't begin to describe how sorry I feel for… everything. I was a jerk, a extremely blind, selfish jerk to have treated you the way I did after you told me you wanted more too. I'm not trying to justify what I did, but I was scared to death that if we were back together, despite of what you had said, things would be just like they were before. No matter how bewildered I was, I had no right to do this to you. I still can't believe you let me in!" He laughed with those Please-Forgive-Me-I-Really-Mean-What-I'm-Saying look.

And then we talked more.

Like, all night (or morning, depending of your point of view), until his shift started at 8. We did a lot of talking, and we straightened a lot of things.

He told me he felt his heart breaking when I asked him if what went wrong hadn't been all my fault.

I'm not sure if he has any idea of how much that meant to me.

Maybe I should tell him some time. Definitely.

So, we talked about what was my fault, and what was his fault, and apparently he blames himself for more things that I ever did. I mean, blame him. Bruises were awaken, scares got healed and all that things that happens when you're willing to take a risk and it ends up being worth it.

It was a good talk.

And we kinda did the same thing when I slept over at the trailer the next day. A sleepover, with just sleeping and cuddling.

I had no idea of much I missed his arms around me while I sleep.

Anyway, we figured things out.

And everything is great now. I'd even risk perfect, but he really doesn't need an ego buster right now.

And last night… we talked about the drowning. I still can't believe we talked about that, but I feel really better now. Talking is good, you should try it some time. I even tried to talk like I did with Derek with Cristina, but you know Cristina. It was a try tough. And while I tried to talk she tried to throw me charts at me. Not a charming experience.

Ok, maybe I should stop doing the whole Dr. Phil thing on other people.

Oh, he's here now. He's smiling. He's looking at me with that You're-Crazy-In-A-Cute-Way way, not in the Oh-My-God-You're-Clinically-Insane way.

"Hey." He kisses me in my cheek and walks to his drawer.

Maybe last week was a cliché.

A good one, tough.

One I wouldn't mind living.

I could really get used to this happiness thing or whatever.

He's jumping in the bed, and I'm giggling. He turns off the lights and pulls me next to him. I sight. He hovers. He tells me he loves me.

And tell him I love him too.