He doesn’t even know when it started anymore, the feeling of emptiness. All he knows is that he’s sad, lonely, and pathetic.

If you were to look at Blaine Anderson’s life objectively, he has it all: good grades, talent, a wonderful boyfriend, and extracurricular that will take him to any college he wants to attend. Logically, he should be the epitome of teenage joy.

But feelings aren’t objective, and if you’re Blaine Anderson, they never really make complete sense.

Wake up. Put on a brave face for everyone. School. Glee.  Perfect boyfriend. Try to sleep. His days run together, and he can’t really tell where one starts and another ends when he’s up all night, mentally debilitating himself.

And it’s not like he tries to. He has tried to put himself together for the past few months, the past few years, really. It’s just not worth it anymore. Why try when nothing works?

There are only so many times a person can be called worthless or disgusting before they start to believe it.

After years of being emotionally and physically tormented, Blaine got out of the hellhole that is known as Westerville’s public school systems, and ran to Dalton. He and his parents were told that Dalton would be better for him. Safer.

And in most ways, it was. He made the first friends he’s had since sixth grade, and he no longer went to bed wondering how many bruises he’d count the next morning. His course schedule left him feeling challenged instead of lethargic, and the guys in his classes liked having intellectual discussions as much as they liked watching football and roughhousing. And the best part? They couldn’t care less if he liked guys.

So when he transferred to Dalton, his situation should have gotten better. He should have gotten better.

He didn’t.

Instead of actually smiling from the joy of living, he was smiling to make everyone think he was happy.

Thinking back on it, Blaine could have won an Oscar for Best Actor during his freshman and sophomore years.

It was about that time that Kurt came into his life and changed everything.

It didn’t happen overnight (actually, nights were the worst, because when Kurt was asleep and wasn’t there to drown out the endless degrading thoughts that haunted Blaine, everything came rushing back). But when Blaine was with Kurt, he felt like he was living more, instead of merely surviving.

When Blaine turned around on that staircase, he never imagined how much one Kurt Hummel could change his life. When he’s with Kurt, he genuinely smiles and laughs, and he would bet money that one of Kurt’s kisses will be the cure to cancer.

But it’s not like Kurt could help everything. There were still days where he would plaster on a fake smile and walk into McKinley knowing he would be emotionally drained by the time he walked out. But he does this for Kurt, someone he genuinely cares about instead of the vapid, egotistical students around him.

Performing for Kurt is different than it is with his parents and other friends. When he acts happy at home, it’s because Blaine doesn’t want his family’s money wasted on shrinks and medicine; he doesn’t want to see their disappointment in his failure to do something so basic. When he’s around friends, Blaine doesn’t want to be seen as weak, and he definitely doesn’t want their pity. But when he’s near Kurt, he just wants Kurt to be happy. He knows that he need to act likewise in order to accomplish that, and he would do anything to make Kurt happy.

But even though he knows he would lie if someone did, Blaine really just wants someone to ask him if he’s okay. Just once. Even so, Blaine won’t hint at it and no one will pick up the silent pleads because that’s not who they are.

And maybe that’s the problem: everyone else in his life is so self-centered. He doesn’t mean that in a bad way, but it’s true. Blaine puts his everything into helping his friends, whether it’s staying up all night to help Puck pass his exam, or texting Rachel to let her know that he’s there to talk after she flops her NYADA audition. He gives everyone his everything, so at the end of the day, he’s left with nothing.

But he can’t change who he is, just like he can’t change the fact that his hair gets frizzy in the heat or the way his handwriting is crooked. His selflessness has been with him since before he can remember, ingrained in his childhood brain by nannies and pre-school teachers.

It’s not even that he wants to become more selfish, he just wants to stop feeling so worthless.

Logically, he knows he’s worth something.. It’s just that his rational thinking doesn’t line up with his subconscious. What makes him special? Nothing, his mind tells him as he tries to fall asleep at 3:54 on a Tuesday night.

And so the cycle repeats.