The Death of Cupcake

It's odd to think that my constant reader is someone I know (Hello, sweetie). When I found out, I thought about filtering what I say, because my thoughts are twisting and I have no chance of untangling them. Then I realized that this blog, this laptop in front of me, is my therapy. I hope that my reader, that you my dear, will help me keep this secret, and these private sessions. And know that none of this is aimed at you, my darling.
Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a girl named Cupcake. Sure, her name was funny, but no one called her by her real name. Many believed Cupcake was her real name, and for a time, it was. She loved her life, she loved her theatre, and she was loved. She never felt love as strongly in her life as she did when she stepped foot into her theatre. 
But she had a secret. Cupcake had gotten into a fight with a friend, a fight her friend doesn't exactly remember. But Cupcake could not forget. She was told she had no emotions, but she knew that wasn't true. She felt a lot, all of the time, but she mainly felt pain. Pain from those that left, from not being accepted, and from being ridiculously clumsy. 
She realized after a week that she was becoming numb to her pain. She began to panic, not wanting to be void of emotion. She made herself feel pain. She felt as though she needed that pain to continue to be who she was. She made herself feel pain until she couldn't stand it anymore. 
It made her sick to see the lengths she was willing to go, just to prove to someone else that she had emotions. Cupcake didn't understand why she was going through a silent battle to prove something to her friend. That was the day she decided she wouldn't be silent any longer.
She lived everyday in loud, slightly obnoxious, joy. Her laughs grew louder, more ridiculous every passing day. Her heart soared with delight every day she stepped into her theatre. She grew lighter everyday, and her smile grew lighter. 
And that was when a voice whispered in her ear. This won't last forever, it told her, clock's a-tickin'. She knew that one day, a day coming faster than she hoped, she would step foot on stage for the final time. The day would come when she had to put her character shoes aside, and walk away. The thought broke her heart. 
She didn't share the heartache with anyone. She kept it tucked inside of her, because Cupcake didn't cry. Cupcake was always happy (unless someone screwed up, and then she was pissed. Hell week was not good for her). Bittersweet days flew past her at lightning speed, and she never thought about truly enjoying those moments. She was focused on ripping off the band-aid, cause she knew it would hurt like hell. 
She was right. 
The thrill of graduation numbed her pain, and finishing the spring show kept her blinded. Her final drama banquet passed in a blur, and she tried not to turn into a blubbering mess. She failed when she got home.
She spent the entire summer trying to ignore the empty feeling inside of her, focusing on her impending doom college classes. When it came time for the fall musical to come around, she was excited to go back to her the theatre. 
She appeared right after school during a rehearsal. She was so excited to see everyone, to be backstage, she didn't think about how much it would hurt. 
They ran to hug her, shout of 'Cupcake' filled the room, and her heart swelled with joy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Ignoring the problem, she kept going. Smiling at everyone, hugging people. It wasn't until after she left that she realized she hadn't been called Cupcake in over five months. 
It felt good to be called Cupcake, but it also startled her. She had heard nothing but her birth name for five months, the other name was slightly odd. She pushed the thought away, again. She couldn't wait to go to the show the following week and see her people everyone again. 
She bought bouquets, and tied them off for her kids friends some of the actors and techs she was most proud of. She walked backstage, even though she wasn't allowed, and handed out the flowers. She ventured into her the wings to surprise her the kids before the show started. 
She felt out of place sitting in the audience and not backstage. 
She refrained from going backstage, or into her the dressing rooms to see her fam everyone. She smiled as they came out, hugged them, reminded them not to be seen in costume. Something still felt wrong, but she (once again) ignored it.
After standing in the halls talking with a few of her the theatre kids, she left. She was kind enough to take a friend home, but she slipped out virtually unnoticed. That night, she decided it was time to figure out what the hell was wrong. Why she felt as though something was missing.
She stayed up until late in the morning. Realization hit her smack in the face all at once. The only thing odd to her after seeing all of the theatre kids was the fact they called her Cupcake. The last five an a half months, no one had called her Cupcake. 
The saddest thing she has ever had to do, was accept the fact that she was no longer Cupcake. The girl everyone knew while she was in theatre was no longer around. Cupcake ceased to exist when she left her drama banquet five and a half months prior. 
Cupcake died on the night May 14, 2015. 
She is gone, and the girl she left behind has no idea how to cope with her death.