Hello. My name is Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and this is, or was my crazy and fucked up life.
I either feel sad and suicidal or just sad, but the latter is no better than the first.
Suicide has always been an option, right in the darkest corners of my mind. It was always there, just waiting to come out and show its face, and just flip my life upside-down altogether. I guess this is my first attempt at suicide, and if you are reading this then it means that I am too long gone to ever find again, so I don't even know why you are bothering to read this. It's not like you really care, it's not like anyone cares.
In fact, I can't remember the last time someone asked me how I was and actually genuinely wanted to know the answer.
Well, actually that is a lie.
I can remember this one time.
It was late October last year, and I was miserable as usual. Sometimes the voices inside my head just consume every ounce of life left inside of me, and that scares me. It scares me that I am so sad and I am so young. That when I look into my eyes, I don't see any life in them anymore. That I am so dead and so young.
I was cradled up in one of the toilet cubicles at school, my mind and body numb with self loathing. I was just waiting for my mind to clear and for some sort of feeling to return to my body when the door of my cubicle tentatively creaked open, revealing a brunette boy with large brown eyes. I had seen the boy around school before; he was in my Biology class. Wavy brown locks that curled down the nape of his neck, pale complexion, an inch or so taller than me.
He was beautiful, no doubt about it.
The most beautiful person I had ever layed my eyes on.
And it became quite obvious that he had set his eyes on me too, but all I could see was shock and sorrow etched in his eyes as he looked at me.
No, not that look again. I hate that look. It is sympathy. The last thing I need is sympathy.
But then it clicked. It rushed to my head as I realised he had seen my scars, casing the entirety of my forearms. The scars are like my safety blanket, proving that I am trying to fight the demons in my head that are trying to kill me.
Several people have seen my scars. I know that for a fact as I don't make much of an effort to hide them. It's not like they have confronted me about it, they just let it be. I wonder if they realise that by saying just three words, they could make a hell of a difference.
'Are you okay?'
But this time, those three words were not an echo of hope in my head.
They were real, being said out loud. To me. I was being asked if I was alright.
The brunet boy with those gorgeous eyes was looking down at me with a different look in his eyes this time. Was it concern? Genuine concern? Or was it just pity? I guess I'll never know.
But whatever look it was, I took the hand he offered me and pulled myself of the ground, wiping the now dried tear marks off my face, brushed down my Marc Jacobs jumper that had got creased from all the crouching and tried to make myself look at least slightly decent for the boy.
I gave a weak smile to the boy and nodded my head tentatively, not wanting to let my emotions get the better of me.
I rose to my feet with the help from the boy, my legs still shaking. He held onto me for longer than was necessary, but I didn't complain. I enjoyed the heat of his torso pressed up against my back and his loud, steady heartbeat drumming a comforting rhythm into me.
It's funny how people think that a kid like me needs counselling, when all we really need is a hug.
After what felt like eternity, he loosened his grip on me and gave a friendly pat on the back, urging me towards the door exiting the restroom.
"Look kid, we've got Biology together next, so why don't we walk there yeah?"
I was slightly taken aback, feeling oddly proud that he recognised me and noted we were in lessons together.
I gave a tentative nod before plastering a smile on my face, causing a smile to reappear on his ashy face. His features were firm but somehow still inviting, and his warm brown eyes sparkled at me with interest. I felt breathless and my chest tightened when I looked at him, my stomach flooding with sparks. We walked down the corridor filled with High School cattle in comfortable silence, still in a daze.
It wasn't until we were stopped outside the door of our lab that I realised he was holding my hand in a loose grip. He must have done that without me realising. I was in such a haze that someone could have slushied me and I still wouldn't have noticed.
The boy turned to me slowly, holding my stare all the while. He opened his mouth as if he was trying to say something, but evidently nothing came out. We just stood there, eyes locked and fingers entwined for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the boy once again opened his mouth and this time, words did come out.
"If you need anything" he said "or anyone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I am here for you." he continued. "I know we barely know each other, but it is not fair for someone to suffer in silence", and with that, he game my hand a tight squeeze before detaching himself from me and entering the labatory.
The truthfulness of his words hit me like a punch to the gut, breathless and pained. A lump formed in my throat. I didn't understand how he could make me feel like this, totally exposed yet so comfortable and completely safe. It's like this boy whom I barely knew, understood me better than any of my Glee friends ever had or would.
The lump in my throat was painful now. I tried to swallow it away, but it was no use.
Tears started to form in my eyes again, and emptiness layed in my chest like a heavy weight.
I raced back down the corridor, retracing my steps back to the deserted restroom and into my cubicle.
I let silent cries wrack my body in never ending waves as I tried to understand why I was feeling this way. Why I always felt this way.
I'm not sure if that was the moment I realised I was gay. In fact, I'm not even sure if I realise now that I am gay. It's so hard to figure out your array of emotions when they fluctuate every other second.
I guess I am just in denial.
I mean, that Quinn Fabray girl is hot, no point denying it. But then again, I can't say that I didn't sneak a glance at the biology boy's ass. And I can't say that it didn't make me feel flustered, and then blush straight after.
Maybe I'm bi? I don't know- but I guess at some point down the line, I would have to choose men or women, and society is just waiting for that moment so it can give me a label. And once that label has been given, it is hard to escape from it.
So I guess I am just biding my time, trying to avoid that moment when society decides who I am, and what I am and not allowed to do.
What is our obsession with labels anyway?
Do we do it because we genuinely need them to differentiate between people, or is it a way of assuring the socially powerful that they are right and everyone else is wrong? Is it to make them feel better about themselves?
I don't know. But one thing I do know is that I am lost, even inside my own head.
After that day, me and the biology boy's relationship became less like acquaintances and more like, dare I say it- friends.
I've never really had a proper friend before. Sure, in elementary school I had a few close friends like that Blaine Anderson kid... I wonder where he is now? But ever since I came out of the closet, the majority of them have avoided me like the plague. Even being associated with me is a death sentence in itself. The ignorant Neanderthals that prowl around the hallways at school hate gays. Being my friend is just a disaster waiting to happen. You might as well place a fashion neon sign above your head saying 'make my life a living hell, I want you to'.
Sure, all the guys in Glee talk the talk with the whole 'we love you whatever you are' bullshit, but whenever I get harassed in the hallways, they always turn a blind eyes, too worried about their own safety to help me.
It's fine though, I've got used to it.
But this boy, he was different. He was special. So fucking special.
He gave me his mobile number the day after the event outside the lab He told me to use it and call him whenever I needed it. Of course, once I got his number I wasn't planning on using it just for 'emergencies'. From some reason, I felt a strong connection between us like a long thread of lustrous ribbon, attaching us wherever we were. I felt the need to talk to him constantly, whatever the time of place.
I started noticing him around school more and more often, desperately seeking out his beautiful face in ever crown or mob of people in the school grounds. Whenever I thought about him, a crimson blush appeared on my porcelain cheeks and my heart sped up just slightly.
You can't even begin to imagine the reaction I had when I saw him in public.
My hands would start to clam up and became sticky with sweat. If I tried to speak, my previously well-formulated words would crawl right back down my throat and my gaping mouth would just let out a breath of hot, not to mention the raging boner I would involuntarily sport in the middle of class if he bent over in his absurdly tight pants or his t-shirt raised up slightly when he raised his hand, showing off his perfectly toned abs and treasure lines.
I was slowly but surely falling in love with this boy. And that was a scary thought.
For so many years now I had been trying to shut out all emotions that pass my way. What good does having emotions do to you?
Nothing. That's what. One way or another, it always ends in heartbreak, and I've had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.
So why would this boy be any different to the others? What was so special about him that would prevent him from breaking my heart like everyone else in my life has done. No, giving into my emotions will do no good, feeling anything is not positive. Being numb is so much simpler.
Anyway, I don't even know if the fucking guy is gay or not. I always get my hopes up for nothing. Sure, he might dress extremely camp and be very touchy feely with his actions but he is like that with all of his friends. I am no special exception. I have never been anyone's special exception. Everyone I have ever loved in my life I have lost, it's not worth risking that happening again.
So I've decided to give up on this gorgeous boy because who am I kidding, how can he learn to love me if nobody else has ever been able to. There is no point holding onto hope. There is no point holding onto life. There is no point holding on altogether.
It was painful enough the first two times with my mum and dad both passing away. Of course, I should expect bad things to happen to me since I am not exactly blessed with luck. Never have been, never will.
But if you are reading this, it means I have finally found luck.
I guess I am just tired. I'm tired of waking up to the same routine every day, seeing the same people, receiving the same harassment, cutting the same cuts, it's just getting old. I'm tired of waking up alone and cold. Pushing myself to get out of bed every morning, not wanting to live anymore.
"I'm just tired." That's my excuse.
But I am finally going to escape this endless drag of emptiness and escape to somewhere that I may finally be able to call home.
I will finally be able to close my eyes to sleep without fear of unwanted memories flashing before my closed life's.
I will finally be able to sleep for as long as I want to. I can sleep forever.
I will finally be able to detach myself from this hopeless life and be free.
I will finally be happy.
So I am Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, resigning from this painful thing that we all call life. I guess that only leaves me with one thing left to say.
"Goodbye."