Dear journal,

It's only the morning and I can already feel my usual cheerful demeanour begin to rot. Even with no students in the halls, I can already smell the sweat, see the pimples and hear bubbles being blown into cherry-cherry bubblegum.

POP!

And of the course, the worst sound of all – a sound that could literally make all the blood in my toned, temple of a body rush to my ear and come pouring out; turbulent and gushing. The sound of Will Shuster's Glee kids, and their pitiful attempt at harmonising.

Normally I can ignore people who I deem not worthy of sharing my breathing space. But there really is something about that Will Shuster that makes my blood boil. I spend hours I spend DAYS formulating new ways to crush that strawberry into plain old pulp.

And yet nothing has been accomplished. His group of future Fame rejects have begun bonding, across their respective social spectrums. Jocks have begun identifying with the wheelchair kid. My Cheerios have become tame in the face of misfits. It was infuriating. It almost made me choke on my first sip of my daily morning protein shake.

Will Shutster.

"Mr. Shue!"

Who did he think he was, instilling hope into these kids, teaching them a doctrine of sing now and act later, all while looking gorgeous and maintaining flowing locks of hair that would positively glow in the dying sunset of a winters afternoon...

!

It was at that horrifying moment that I had a realisation. I saw an imperfection. I experienced a moment of weakness, and it wasn't just due to me momentarily passing out after I really did choke on my protein shake. (what a waste of a good shake).

I actually saw an attractive quality to Will Schuster.

May God have mercy on us all.