June 30, 2010

I am officially done. I'm done with school. I'm done with my house. I'm done with my friends. I'm done with life. I'm done with Blaine.

Okay, well, that last part isn't entirely true. I love Blaine more than words on pages can even show. It isn't Blaine that was the problem, either. It is me.  

I'm not perfect, and I'm was tired of having to live up to other people's expectations. This world is full of douchebags and I have to live in it. I can't become what I want in Lima. And when I go to New York, Blaine can't follow me. Life officially sucked. It doesn't help that the world won't accept my religious views, my sexuality, my hair, my voice. They can't accept Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.

I was slushied, pushed into a locker, called a fag, Mercedes got the solo I wanted, and I was outshined by Rachel, and called a liar, and had my secret found out…all in day.

It all started when I realized I had a problem last night. The fucking perfect disaster that holds me down. I decided to tell someone. I didn't want to tell Blaine, because I didn't know if Blaine would leave me or be overprotective. He may try to stop it, and I don't want to stop and go through withdrawal, and I don't want to kill myself, anyway. I only wanted to find a way to cope, and I found it. So, I went up to Mercedes and she couldn't have been bitchier about it.

“Kurt. Stop looking for attention. If this is about that solo that I got instead of you, I'm not giving it up. Honestly. Making up something, like cutting yourself, that real people struggle with, every day, just because of a solo.” She said than walked away.

After that, I started walking down the hall almost in tears, when I got shoved into a locker. Fucking great.

“You tell anybody, I will kill you” Karofsky whispered into my ear.

I literally felt so trapped and alone in the world, it was eating me alive. I went into the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and started crying, I didn't even care that I was missing English. I was staring at the scars that I had on my thighs, as the ones on my wrists were covered in foundation, when I heard someone enter the bathroom. I immediately tried to stop crying when that person saw my shoes.

Fuck my designer shoes.

“Kurt?” I heard my boyfriend ask “Is that you?”

“Yeah” I said. I'm many things, but I'm not a liar, and I'm not going to start now.

“Why are you crying?” Blaine asked

“I don't want to talk about it”

“Why?”

“It's personal”

“I won't tell anybody. C'mon Kurt, I love you so much, I refuse to judge you, and all your flaws make me 100% luckier to be your boyfriend”

“No” I told him

“Fine, well I'm coming in and I will make you talk to me” He said

‘Shit, my pants' I thought

I started pulling them up, but it was too late. Blaine had already seen my scars. I felt even worse, especially when he opened the stall door and went to class. I left the bathroom and went to English. My phone vibrated in my pocket and the message was from Blaine.

“We will talk later. Sorry for running out, I had to get back to class, and take this in. I love you baby, and if you think I'm mad, or leaving you, I'm not.” The text said.