I was never really one for keeping a journal, or a diary of any kind. Mostly because I didn’t understand the point of remembering that on September 9th, you went grocery shopping. If the things happening in your life were really all that important, you would remember it forever right? But I suppose there comes a moment in everyone’s life when they don’t want to forget a single thing. It’s the moment when you say to yourself ‘oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.’ I’ve recently had that moment, and I never want to forget anything to do with it. I’m aware of how long it took me to realize that, what I was looking for has been right in front of me for the past 4 months. During that time, I’ve done countless things to harm exactly what I’ve been looking for. But now that I have you nice and confused, I’ll get on with what happened, I guess the proper place to start would be the day I met him.
It had been a normal day at Dalton, and by normal I mean exactly like every other fucking day of the year. Not that I’m complaining, I know that this is where I need to be I’m safe here. No matter how much I wish for something more in my life. Sure this is the place where I met all of my friends, and of course I love being the lead soloist of out show choir. But there is constantly the feeling of there being something more for me out there, I just haven’t quite figured out what it is I’m missing. Not trying to sound cheesy at all, but I suppose it works for this moment, and this day. I’m looking for my missing puzzle piece. I’m incomplete.

The day passed by the same way it always did, uneventfully uninteresting. You would think that I’d be used to the boring life of being a student at Dalton Academy. This is not the case. I’d been on my way to the senior commons, when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned, and my jaw dropped only slightly, I had come to see the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my life. “I’m new here” well thank the fucking lord. Had I mentioned that I like boys? Yes, I fucking love boys. Now, what I did next isn’t something that I would normally do. I grabbed his hand, and ran with him to the senior commons. Usually I’m not one for physical contact, well not unless we’re rather good friends. It was something about this boy that caught my eye.

Now I assume that ‘Teenage Dream’ isn’t the most appropriate song to sing to a boy you’ve only just met, but what can you do? We had already had the performance all week. How was I to know that a gorgeous boy would show up suddenly and capture my attention? Now to the last at hand, actually get through the song without pouncing on the beauty. Our choreography wasn’t difficult in the least, just a basic two-step, and some snapping. I’m definitely not complaining though, I can’t dance to save my life. Well, I suppose I can but I’ve been told it’s rather funny. After what seemed like forever, the song was done. I found the boy (whose name turned out to be Kurt. By the way.) And Wes, David and I took him to coffee in the caf� we had on campus. He seemed nervous, oddly nervous. “If you’re going to beat me up for spying, I’m really sorry” Wait what? Beat up this poor boy. Why on earth would we do that? What is with the strange comments and questions? “Are all you guys gay?” whoa, wasn’t expecting that one. Quick, answer him damnit. There, now it’s out in the open. He knows about me, it feels kind of empowering to tell someone I’ve only just met.

Seeing the look on his face, after we mentioned the anti-bullying policy. I politely asked Wes and David to leave (ever the dapper gentleman Dalton expects me to be). I asked Kurt about his issues, and he seemed eager to just get it all out. I understood all of his problems; hell I’d been through all of his problems. The unfortunate thing about befriending a boy, who is having harassment issues, is that you really can’t consider yourself to ever be thought of as more then the standard mentor. I figured I could live with that, at least for a while. I gave Kurt advice, mostly everything I didn’t do, that I know I should have. Before he left, we exchanged phone numbers with a promise to keep in touch. I just hoped he’d meant it as much as I did.