A/N: This is a story I wrote based on all of my personal experiences with these disorders, if you have different experience with any of them, feel free to let me know and I'll try to use it. (Also this is me just a liiiittle but making fun of Darren's spastic head motions.) Glee and everything from it belongs to Ryan Murphy.


Kurt:

I sighed as I fiddled with the small orange pill container on the table in front of me. First of all no, I'm not going to try to kill myself. These pills are to help, to make it stop, to put barricades and barriers to suppress my mind, to suppress the furniture in my room that grows and shrinks without my permission. My name is Kurt Hummel, and I need these pills. When I was five years old I was diagnosed with OCD (not really a big deal I guess, lots of people have that), and AIWS, or 'Alice in Wonderland Syndrome'. Yes, that's real, very real, and it feels like being completely insane.

I'm really not one to complain though; I don't bother others with my problems, which sometimes makes it worse. Like right now. My problems get worse with stress an anxiety, things such as going to a new private school tomorrow, which of course I will be doing. Oh, and remember the pill container? It's empty. I need to tell my father to refill it, but I don't think I can. He doesn't like that I need to take pills, they're expensive and he just wants me to be normal. I'm only going to this school because I received a scholarship. My father doesn't get angry, just….sad.

So I'm not going to tell him. I'm going to lie out my uniform, suck it up and go to bed without the medicine. Go to bed with my own mind. I stood again and wandered to my closet, filled with the best clothes you can get anywhere in this town. I like to pride myself on my meticulous wardrobe, the ocd helps with that, but hey no one can have too many blazers and matching scarves. I grabbed the extent of my uniform and turned to face the opposite wall of the room, the reason I would never allow anyone in my room. On that wall we hundreds of pieces of paper from various magazines, newspaper, tickets, playbills, clothing tags, and everything you could imagine, tapped in one big collage on the wall. I never knew why I always felt the need to do that, but in a strange way its so satisfying and pleasant to tape everything I love to a feature in the room as prominent as a wall. It makes it feel my own, since I don't have much else to call my own it seems.

I climbed into bed and listened to Burt and Carole milling about downstairs talking about some small topic. I swallowed and pulled the cord on the lamp next to my bed, trying to shut my eyes as fast as possible. Now I was thinking about it. Thinking about it makes it worse. And sure enough as I opened my eyes I could see my dresser stretch and extend, looming over me, drawers warped into a sinister smile that leered down at me. My window expanded and darkened and my bedroom door stretched away from the, the rim of light around it fading as it grew farther and farther. I breathed, I knew it wasn't real, I was good at handling it by now, but no matter how used to it you are, it's still scary, really unsettling and scary. I tried to focus on other things, like the classes and people at my new school. My new school, Dalton academy, a school where I will be boarding and offered trips to Paris with the French class. It is also an all boy school, which I admit, only in my mind, I'm excited about, being gay, the idea of being surrounded by all guys all day isn't bad, though I'll miss the complex friendship of my girls.

With these thoughts pooling in my head, I was able to ignore my shape-shifting bedroom and drift off to sleep, subconsciously awaiting the abrupt awakening of my alarm clock.


Blaine:

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

Yep.

One. Nod. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

This is my life.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

Six seconds.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

Over and over an over again.

Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

I'm sorry.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

Is that bothering you?

Because it's not bothering you,

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

Nearly as much, as its bothering me.

That's Tourette syndrome.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

And I do what it tells me.

Or else.

It gets better sometimes; it's not always this constant.

But I'm nervous. It's the first day of school.

One. Nod. Two. Three. Tap. Four. Five. Nod. Six.

I sighed and walked downstairs. Both of my parents are at work. I opened the second cabinet from the left, the one my mom keeps the coffee mugs in, and took out the pill container that had the morning and night of every day of the week. It's Wednesday morning. Lithium, risprodol, invaga, what aren't I taking? As long as it helps I suppose. The doctor told me I also had bipolar disorder. That made it fairly difficult to keep friends around, they always seemed to be mad at me, and I always seem to hate myself. That's why I was so nervous about school. There was really nothing more I could do though, so I grabbed my Blazer and walked out the door with my keys.