Dear Diary,

            Things have been going a little better lately. Not a lot, but it’s something, right? Glee club is much less stressful and I’ve been doing well in my classes. Not that I ever did poorly in my classes, but it’s still nice to see an A on my assignments after I work so hard on them.

            Kurt’s been watching me a little more closely lately, ever since my little breakdown, and especially after the Karofsky thing. Dave’s out of the hospital now, by the way, and Kurt visits him occasionally. I hate that Kurt is worrying about me and I especially hate that I gave him reason to. I have been working so hard for so long to make sure everybody sees me how I want them to, but I feel like I’m slipping. Kurt’s definitely noticed.

            I can’t wait until I graduate. One year without seeing Kurt all the time is going to be awful and lonely and terrifying, but then I’ll be following him to New York, I’ll be out of this homophobic town and making my own life. I can’t wait to get the hell away from here. Mostly I can’t wait to get away from my parents.

            This is, of course, all assuming I stick around that long.

“So, my place tonight after dinner, right?” Kurt asked as we walked hand in hand through the parking lot after school.

            “Yeah. Sounds good.”

            “And Finn and Rachel will be there, so we’ll probably end up watching some crappy action movie or something.”

 I laughed as we approached Kurt’s car, where I pushed him up against it and kissed him.

            “Fags!” someone shouted at us. Kurt just sighed.

            “I love you, I’ll see you later,” he said.

            “Love you too.” He got in and drove away as I walked slowly to my car.

            I took my time going home because I tried to spend as little time there as possible. I decided to stop off at my favorite music store and buy myself some new records. I usually went there a few times a month ever since I bought myself a record player last year for my birthday. I was obsessed, and bought as much music as possible in record form. Sometimes I bought oldies, and sometimes brand new releases. These were always my favorite, because they somehow felt more rare than the old. There I was with my old-fashioned version of the music, while everyone else only had their digital versions—intangible versions hidden mysteriously inside a hunk of metal. I liked the idea of knowing where my music came from. I found “Cough Syrup” from a record I bought there the month before. I sang that song to Kurt the day Karofsky tried to kill himself. That was before we found out, of course.

            I finally walked into my house at about five, and I could tell the moment I walked in that it was going to be a bad night. There was a tension in there, like the grey clouds that still linger after a storm. I walked into the living room to find my mother sitting straight-backed on the couch, staring unthinkingly towards the fireplace. She would have looked so elegant if it wasn’t for the wine glass in her hand and the half-drunken bottle on the table. I cleared my throat and she turned towards me. She stared at me for a moment before turning back towards the fireplace. She looked so empty, so defeated. I hated seeing her like this, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad for her. More than anything, I hated that she allowed herself to get like this. Anybody could see that she was unhappy, but she never did a damn thing about it. She stuck to her loveless marriage and got through her days with the help of alcohol. She was never without it. My father is not an easy man to leave, but it wouldn’t have been impossible. She never even tried; she just let herself be miserable. It disgusted me.

            “Do try to be respectable tonight, will you?” she said after a few moments. She reached forward and refilled her wineglass, not even bothering to hear my response. I couldn’t help but wonder what she would say if she knew I was just like her. She was always so proud that I had gotten her curly hair and her dark skin. She probably wouldn’t be so proud to know I had also gotten her disease.

            I turned and walked out of the living room, leaving my mother alone with only her wine and her self-pity. I crept quietly past the door of my father’s study, where inside I could hear his angry voice, probably yelling at some “incompetent piece of shit” on the phone. I walked into the kitchen and started preparing dinner. I couldn’t cook like Kurt could, not even close, but I had been taking care of my family long enough to be able to pull together a decent meal.

Cooking used to be so relaxing for me. I could lose myself in the repetitive chopping, cutting, stirring and clear my head of the day. Now I could only focus on the knives, the red juice that dripped out of the tomatoes as I chopped, the tears that I blamed on the onions. I couldn’t cook the vegetables or make the mashed potatoes without wondering if anyone would notice if I just stuck my hand into the heat. Sometimes I doubted I would even notice.

My parents came into the kitchen at precisely 6pm, just as they did every night. I set the food on the table and we sat quietly, my mother looking only at her food and my father sitting with his Blackberry in hand.

“How was school today, dear?” my mother finally asked after a few silent minutes. She only called me dear when she wanted to annoy my father. He hated when she called me that; he thought she babied me and wasn’t preparing me for the “real world.” He glared up at her, but she only smiled at me and took a sip of her wine.

            “It was fine,” I answered. “I got an A on my history test, and I got to sing a solo in glee club this afternoon…” My father slammed his fist on the table and I flinched. He hated when I talked about glee club, and I was stupid enough to let that slip out.

            “I don’t want to hear about that fucking club, Blaine.”
            “Dad…”

“No! You know how I feel about it, but I let you do it anyway. All I ask is that you don’t talk about it to me and you can’t even give me that. Keep this up and you’re done!”

 My heart started pounding in my ears because, though it wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to make me quit, it always terrified me. Glee club was one of the only good things I had left.

“I’m sorry, dad. I won’t mention it again, I promise.”

            “I never liked that you sang like that, Blaine. I didn’t like it at Dalton, and I especially don’t like it at this public school.” My father’s face was bright red as his anger rose. Sometimes it is impossible to get him to stop once he got going, no matter what you do. “I give you a lot of freedom, Blaine, and you almost never repay me.”

            “Freedom? Everything you give me comes with a price, some kind of compromise. You let me go to McKinley, but you never stop telling me what a terrible choice I made for my future. You let me go to Dalton, but only after somebody beat the shit out of me….”

            “Enough!” my father yelled. My mother sat calmly in her chair and refilled her wine glass.  I thought there was a good chance she’d finish that bottle tonight.

 “I let you go to that school and you left. I let you be gay-“

“Let me be gay?”

“-and all I asked in return was that you keep it out of this house until you left for college, and what do you do? You bring home that stupid fag boyfriend of yours…”

“Don’t call him that!”

“All I’m saying, Blaine, is that you always push too far with the things I give you, and it has got to stop. Don’t bring that boy, or that glee club, under this roof. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” I said, and I stormed out of the kitchen and up to my room.

I had heard this all before, but somehow it never hurt any less. My family had never been perfect, not even close, but after I came out everything was suddenly compromising and deal making and keeping promises. I could never live up to it and my father made sure to remind me of that fact. Whenever we spoke we just ended up screaming at each other, insulting one another, or he would insult Kurt like he was better than him and it pissed me off.

Aren’t our parents supposed to love us unconditionally? Aren’t they supposed to give and give and never ask for anything in return? I mean, isn’t that what love is—never expecting anything, but receiving it anyway? There are parents out there who love their kids even when they’re serial murderers, rapists, bank robbers. How come my parents couldn’t love me just because I love boys?

Why wasn’t I good enough for even them?

I paced back and forth in my room for a few minutes, hateful thoughts swirling around in my head. Somehow, no matter the situation, the blame always ended up on me. There was a reason nobody loved me, I just hadn’t figured out what it was yet. I ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before I started throwing up.

I lay sobbing over the toilet for god knows how long. I just couldn’t stop. Even when I crawled away from the toilet and reached under the sink for my razor I cried. My vision was blurred and all I could see were red blobs as I cut and cut and cut. I covered my wrist and made it halfway up my forearm before the tears stopped flowing and my head cleared.

I sat unmoving on my floor for a few minutes and let the peace from my self-punishment wash over me. I put away the razor and cleaned up. Just as I was putting on the last bandage my phone beeped. It was Kurt telling me that dinner was over at his place and I could come over anytime. I changed my shirt and threw the bloodied one into the garbage. My father yelled after me as I ran out the front door, but I didn’t bother to hear what he was saying. I just needed to be with Kurt. I needed to curl up in his arms and feel loved.

I don’t remember the drive over there, but suddenly I found myself taking off my shoes and walking through the foyer with Kurt.

“Are you okay, Blaine? You look upset.” Kurt asked, his eyebrows drawn together and a frown on his face.

“I’m fine. Just got in a fight with my parents, but it’s okay now. I’m just tired.”

“Okay,” Kurt said, though his face looked skeptical.

 “Rachel is over already, and my dad and Carole are out at some congress thing my dad had to go to.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Hi, guys,” I said as we turned into the living room. Rachel and Finn were cuddled on a chair, Rachel twisting the engagement ring around her finger.

“Hey man,” Finn said.

“You look tired, Blaine. Are you okay?” Rachel asked. She was never one for tact.

“I’m fine, just tired, yeah” I said.

“Well you better get some rest. We need your talent for glee club and can’t afford for you to slack off.”

“Rachel,” Kurt scolded, and I was glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of that death stare.  Rachel mumbled an apology and turned back to Finn. I grabbed a blanket and sat next to Kurt on the couch. Finn hit play on the remote and I lay back against Kurt’s chest. He wrapped his hand around mine and kissed the top of my head.

(line break)

“Blaine? Blaine honey, wake up,” I heard Kurt whisper. I opened my eyes to see Finn grabbing his keys to take Rachel home. I tried to respond but it came out as a mumble even I couldn’t understand. Kurt tapped my shoulder and I sat up, rubbing my eyes as I woke up properly.

“Are you going to be okay to drive?” Kurt asked. I looked up at him and had to look away because his eyes looked so sad. Had I done that? Of course I had. Kurt was worried about me because I told him I got in a fight with my parents. I should have just told him I was tired. I didn’t want to burden him with my problems.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said as I stood up and walked to the front door. I put on my shoes and coat, Kurt staring down at me with his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I stood up and grabbed my keys out of my pocket.

“I love you, Kurt,” I said.

“I love you too, honey. So, so much.” Kurt said, his voice shaky with unshed tears. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tightly, more tightly than he ever had. I pulled awkwardly out of his embrace and left, cursing myself for bringing Kurt down.  My biggest fear was hurting him with all the things I felt about myself, and here it had already begun.