I mean, why do people say 'dear' anyway? Who are they writing to? People are just writing on a piece of paper, so there's no reason to say that beginning. I guess they just want to say 'dear' to themselves since it is for their own hypothetical reasons.

Okay, let me start over.

Dear...whatever this is,

It's been two days since I woke up in this nut job place and I still believe it's a dream. My therapist said that I should start writing a diary, but I didn't want to call it a diary and journal is too mainstream these days because nobody wants to call their deepest thoughts a 'diary' because that just sounds cheesy so they just use 'journal'. Both sound stupid to me, so it's just called a 'something' for now. But yes, therapist. Told me to start writing one, for therapeutic reasons. He said that I should start writing out my 'frustration and confusion' in a notebook, so he gave me this small one, and I hate it because it's wide ruled and wide ruled just annoys the shit out of me. I mean, who uses wide ruled anymore? Seriously.

Anyway, yeah. Two days. Two days of unappetizing hospital food and chatty Marlena. I mean, she's a nice girl and all, she just won't stop talking. I can't even get a word in, so I just sit staring out that large glass window thinking when I'll be able to be on the other side. It sounds pretty depressing, how I wish I was 'normal' and well, that's because it is. I was normal, for a certain amount of time, but I just had to wake up out of it. Sure, I was labeled as I freak in that world but for different reasons. Here, I'm surrounded by freaks, and one of them thinks that his house is on the moon and his wife is some butterfly alien creature that he met while traveling the ice cream planet. I think he should be in a nursing home, because it's pretty common for old people to think that way, from what I know. But his family dropped him off here and he now lives here. Apparently all you have to do to get in is for someone mutually related to you to just drop you off, and that's it. Sounds pretty strange to me.

Speaking of families though, the only one I have is my dad because apparently I never introduced him to Carole because I was dealing with these symptoms before and I was in this special program at school so I never joined Glee club and I never knew Finn, or anyone for that matter. Well, that's what Dr. Hanson told me during yesterday's afternoon therapy session. Apparently, what made my dad decide to send me here was when these symptoms were fully triggered, but he didn't tell me what that trigger was. I found that rather frustrating, because every time I asked he just got this really disturbed and hesitant look on his face as if he was deciding on if to tell me but thinking against it. It must be pretty significant if he won't tell me. He did tell me this though. Schizophrenia is a genetic disease so one of my family members, no matter how distant, must have had my disease (or is still alive and dealing with it) and it is mostly triggered by a death or a horrid accident that affects me personally. So someone who was close to me must have died or been a horrible accident that resulted in a coma or later death. It obviously wasn't my dad, and even my mother's death didn't trigger it since I was eight when she died and apparently that's too young to fully gain the symptoms. It's all rather confusing to me, and those were the two closest people I had in this life so it's left me in the dark.

But that's not all that's been pulling at my mind. Lately, I've been hearing a voice...HIS voice. No, not him upstairs, since I don't believe in him (but a lot of people here do which just annoys me because they're preaching his word like lunatics), but him, the one who gave me courage and loves me, actually loves me, for who I am. Well, the me in the other life that's still in the back of my mind making its presence known feeling much too real. But yes. He's talking to me, all the time telling me that I shouldn't over think things. Well, that's mostly all he says. It's rather annoying and I wish he would tell me what the hell is going on, but again, he doesn't want me to over think, which I believe is him telling me I shouldn't worry so much. I just wish I could see him. I wish he would comfort me but I know that's not possible because he's not real. He's a figment of my imagination, my subconscious playing tricks on me and blah blah blah. I wish my therapist would stop telling me that, because even though it's only been two days, he's really putting a downer on my mood and it's getting rather annoying.

Well, anyway, apparently family day is coming up, where all the patients families are coming to the hospital to pick you up and take you around town so you can have 'quality time'. That's in three days, and luckily you have your own clothes to go out in. I can't stand these hospital clothes. Wearing the same thing every day? No thanks, especially when everyone else is wearing them. Just makes me sick. So yeah, I have to be on my best behavior, which I don't know what they mean by that because I don't know how to act here. I've caught on to just be silent and to not talk to anybody, but to look like I am talking to someone. That's what Marlena is for, and I'm grateful she's the talkative one so I don't have to say anything about myself. Gives time to think while she's chatting away and makes the nurses think I'm being social, which they call progress. Stupid progress. I was making enough progress at home, where I belong. In a sense anyway.

I think it's almost well past midnight, and by think, I actually mean it because I don't have a damn clock in this room. They don't have an excuse for that, and I will soon be requesting one because I can't stand it when I don't know the exact time. It's just how my mind's been behaving lately. So yeah. The nurses usually would have come in hours ago and given me my anesthetic to get me to sleep, because another symptom is trouble sleeping. So basically insomnia. But they didn't come in so I guess I'm free for tonight. So yeah...I really have no idea how to say goodbye to a piece of paper with a bunch of words...so yeah. I'll just end it here.

***

Kurt placed the pen in between the spirals of the notebook as he closed the book softly and placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. A great, annoyed sigh escaped his mouth as he continues to lie in bed, knowing sleep will never come. He could give himself the shot, since it was on the other side of the room, but he decided against it since he didn't know how much they give him and self medication is never a good choice. Plus, he hated hospital needles, so yeah. He'll just have to stay up for the night. Great. Now what was he going to do for seven hours? There really was nothing to do in the room he was in at the moment. It was just so...bleak. He hated it.

Kurt continued to lie there. It really was all he could do, unless he decided to close his open door, but he didn't feel like getting up to just do that. The open door let some air in anyway. He could open the windows, but there's an alarm on them during the night.. He knows this because he tried last night and the nurses came rushing in when the blaring noise blasted through the building. It's fine, during the day, since they know they won't try to 'escape' in broad sunlight since there's always someone outside during that time. He hated being caged in this place. All he's been feeling is anger and hatred towards this place. Who wouldn't?

A half hour passed as Kurt still lie on his bed, fully awake without an inch of drowsiness. It was thirty minutes filled with silence and non-thinking. Thinking caused too much worry, and he didn't want to feel that because that would bring on more depressing emotions. So, he decided to just lie there, stare off into space not really paying attention to anything. That is, until a rather fast movement caught his eye.

Turning his head to get a better look, he only caught a glimpse of a figure walking at a fast pace. It seemed rather peculiar because the person was dressed in...normal clothes. All the employees had a certain uniform and every patient wore the same exact clothing. Even though he only caught a glimpse, he saw the back of a dark red sweater and dark wash jeans that were slightly rolled up. The figure was wearing black Converse and he wondered where he saw the outfit before. Nothing was coming to mind, but Kurt just had a feeling that he should get up and follow the figure. So, pulling the covers off of his body, Kurt stood up and walking to the door, peering his head around the frame. Again, he only caught a glimpse as the figure disappeared around a corner.

It took only a moment of hesitation until Kurt bolted down the hallway, following the direction the person went. He didn't even think about what would happen if he got caught, which would probably end in him being put under again.

He was mostly following the shadow that was being given off by the light of the moon. It may be a hospital, but there were a lot of windows, probably to make it feel more open and warm than it actually is.

The figure, that Kurt concluded to be male, led him to a small room, much smaller than the rec room, and it was brightly lit by the lamps. It was a small sitting area, by the looks of it, one that seemed much more comfortable than anywhere else. There were bookshelves in the back, and it just looked like a study. The boy that Kurt had seen was sitting on one of the couches, the one facing him. Kurt could see his face now, and he caught his breath.

"Blaine."

A million questions ran through Kurt's head, which just made a massive headache pop up. Was this real? Why is he here? What the hell is going on? Yeah, mostly the last one.

"I told you to stop over thinking."

There was a playful smile stretching across the other boy's features, but Kurt just stood there, paralyzed. He just felt like he was in one of those dramatic movies where the long lost love returns, or something. Mostly Kurt just felt like he got the wind blown out of him, by just seeing Blaine. His doctor said he wasn't real, that it was just his subconscious telling him he wanted to be loved. But here he is, right in front him, looking as real as can be.

The smile slowly dispersed and turned into a frown. Kurt could feel the tears coming, but he pushed them back. Just seeing him spurred on so many memories that were just in his head. It was heartbreaking.

They stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other. It seemed like they were wondering which one was going to break first, which one was going to move. They both knew who it would be, it just took awhile. He tried to keep the tears back, he really did, but as he walked over to the couch, and sat down, one escaped and soon they were just flowing. Kurt buried his head into Blaine's chest, staining the sweater and striped shirt he was wearing. He didn't seem to mind though, and they just sat like that, Kurt trying to stop crying even though it really wasn't working, and Blaine holding him, trying to comfort him. They were both trying to do these things which just made it hurt even more.

"It's going to be alright Kurt," Blaine cooed in his ear. Kurt shook his head.

"I don't know—where I am or what I'm doing here. I don't belong in this place, Blaine, I just don't. It just felt—-so real." Kurt's voice was stuttering as he tried to choke back the sobs. He wanted to stay strong in front of Blaine, but instead he was just falling apart.

"I know, I know. It's going to be alright." That was the second time he said that, but Kurt just couldn't believe it. It was never going to be alright, it just couldn't.

Kurt pulled away, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. His cheeks were stained red and his eyes all puffy. He hated crying, especially in public, even if it was just Blaine.

"No, Blaine, it's not going to be alright. I don't know where I am or what I'm doing here. This place is full of nut jobs, even though I'm one myself, and my therapist is telling me that you were never real or my other life even though you're right in front of me. I doubt my dad can even bare to look at me if he dumped me off here, and I'm supposed to put on my best face for him in three days. What am I supposed to do, Blaine? I'm not supposed to be like this, I'm not supposed to be some...insane mental patient in this insane mental hospital. I'm supposed to be normal, and live a normal life with you, and all our friends and my dad. You're supposed to help me, and give me courage, while I help you fight your own bullies along the way. Instead, I'm here listening to Marlena go on and on about these topics that don't even interest me, even though she said she was a rather shy girl. She's nice, and all, but I just feel completely and utterly alone here. No one's listening, Blaine and I can't stand it. I just can't..."

It seemed like he was going to break down again, but he remained silent, and at least appeared to be strong about it. He didn't go into a sobbing fit again and just looked down at his feet, bent over, his hands joined together but acting restless. Blaine just looked at him, silent for a moment before looking away and going into the same position Kurt was in.

"Kurt, you know how much I love you, and I'll always be here, but I need you to stay strong, okay?"

They looked at each other, Kurt having that 'bitch, you're crazy' look on his face. Blaine laughed and short, sweet laugh.

"I just want you to see your father, okay? He loves you, even if you don't believe it. He will be here, I promise."

"How do you know?"

"I just...do." A smile again. Kurt nodded, wanting to believe Blaine.

They shared a sweet, tender kiss then, Blaine knowing it would make him feel better, just a bit. Blaine pulled away first, pressing their foreheads together, just smiling at each other. It was a pleasant moment, Blaine cupping his face with his right hand, as he held Kurt's hand with his other.

"What are you doing in here?"

Kurt looked up suddenly, not saying a word because he was in shock again. A nurse he didn't know was standing in the doorway.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed. You shouldn't be wandering the hallways alone at night."

"But I'm not alone..." He looked back as Blaine as the nurse came over and pulled him off the couch. He wondered why she couldn't see Blaine. He was clearly there, in full view.

"Yes, you are. Now come along." She pulled him out of the room as he looked back. Blaine was still there, looking at him with a saddened look. "Can't you see him?"

The nurse looked at him, an annoyed look on her face. The nurses were supposed to be pleasant towards the residents. Something told Kurt that she wasn't having a very pleasant night, or day for that matter. "See who, honey?" A fake, sarcastic smile. "The person I was with. He's right there." Kurt tried to point to the couch as she led him out of the room, and out of Blaine's view. "There's no one there. Now let's get you to bed." The nurse, who was rather muscular and tall, led him back to his room, somehow knowing where it was. He guessed all employees were taught to know the patients and where they 'live'.

He was now in his bed, the covers pulled over his body except for his arms, which were on top of the horrid orange and yellow quilt that she draped over the other covers, even though he really wasn't cold. She looked at the clip board that was always hanging on the wall, filled with patient information and notes taken. She placed it back on the hook, and grabbed the needle that held his anesthetic. She made her way over, and he stared, petrified, at the blue liquid held inside.

Soon, the needle entered his skins, the hairs on his neck rising, until he relaxed and fell under, the drug quickly taking affect.