Life's too short
To even care at all, oh
I'm losing my mind,
Losing my mind,
Losing control
To say that Blaine was happy would not seem incorrect to a passing classmate, with his graceful charm exhibited throughout the elegant hallways of the all boys school, but if they really looked beneath the navy and red blazer they would see the darkness that swims underneath that gel-matted head.
Blaine Anderson woke up early Monday morning of his second week at his new school, with the sun yet to rise, in his sweat drenched tank top after the regular nightmare of bloody fists and ugly faces. Leaving his dark, orderly room to take his daily prescribed anti-depressants he felt the exhaustion that hasn't left him since that awful night of Sadie Hawkins.
His life has, so far, changed for the better. He is at Dalton, where he is allowed to be out and proud and not have to worry about getting thrown around by savage football players everyday, and, while they might still not be okay with it, at least his parents are acknowledging that his sexuality isn't going away. However Blaine doesn't feel this change.
His days consist of getting up in a sweat due to the same repeating nightmare, taking his meds, going on a two mile run around the neighborhood while the sun rises, take a quick shower, gel his curly hair down, throw on the same ironed uniform, drive to school, stare at the wall during all his classes, box at the recreation center, go to therapy (only on Tuesdays and Fridays), get home and realize he doesn't understand any of the materiel for that night's homework, then try to fall asleep starting at 2:00am.
None of his classmates realize Blaine is in any sort of pain. He walks around the hallways with a fake smile on his face, greeting any fellow classmates and teachers, hell even the maintenance crew, as he passes them. He keeps up the facade hoping nobody would see how infinitesimal he feels, or how much he wishes he could just hide away in bed instead of wandering around like a zombie everyday.
If I could find a way
To see this straight
I'd run away
To some fortune that I
Should have found by now
Early Wednesday morning, during his fourth week at Dalton, Blaine gets out of bed (even earlier than usual) and goes across the hall to his private bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he stares at the dark purple bags under his eyes and pale, sickly skin around his face, wishing things could be different, wishing for someone to notice.
It's not like Blaine asked for this life. Why would he choose to be someone that would ultimately get thrown under the bus from society for liking the same gender? Why is he stuck with insufferable parents that care more about their designer wardrobe and monthly trips to Hawaii than their own son and his well being? And why does this combination of things make him feel like the most inferior person on earth?
With these thoughts in his mind, Blaine found his eyes wandering to the corner of the sink counter where he keeps his medication. Sitting there is a new large bottle of standard issue cough medicine. Blindly reaching out for it, Blaine doesn't even take a second to thing about it, he just opens the bottle, throws back his head, and downs its entire contents. The fake cherry flavor and syrup consistency have him over the toilet, vomiting up every ounce from that bottle and what he ate yesterday within twenty seconds.
Blaine's father, upon hearing the retching noises from the hallway, opened the bathroom door to see his son, smaller than he ever remembers seeing him in the past few years, cradling the toilet and passed out.
Life's too short
To even care at all, oh
I'm coming up now,
Coming up now
Out of the blue, oh
When Blaine awakens, the first thing he notices is that he's lying in bed, more rested than he's felt in a long time, the second thing he notices is the warmth in his left hand. Opening his eyes he sees he is in his room and his father is sitting on the edge of his bed holding his hand with tears starting to glisten in his eyes. The only thing Blaine needed to hear was, "Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry."
After Blaine and his father talked through what had occurred of that morning, Blaine decided enough was enough and took it upon himself to get better. He went to his doctor to tell him that the medication wasn't helping and got a new dose, and while it wasn't perfect it was at least better. After that, he walked down to the psychology ward in the hospital and requested a change in therapists. Dr. Zephros ended up being just the help he needed with his kind eyes and gentle words.
Almost a year later found him on the main stairwell of Dalton face to face with the ultimate factor in his pursuit of happiness. The thought of an empty cough syrup bottle long lost in his memory.