Blaine's insomnia had been getting worse; days had gone by without any what normal people would call proper sleep. He couldn't keep up with his school work, his social life or the most important thing (or should we say person): Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Things had started to get out of control.
5.09 in the morning, thats a record for Blaine, normally by now he would've at least had half an hour of sleep but this particular night, absolutely nothing. Since the symptoms had begun Blaine had started looking up things on the internet to help: no caffeine, no large meals, eye masks. But nothing worked and Blaine never thought anything would anyway, which is probably why as he thinks back to these times why he couldn't sleep.
Here is Blaine's story to overcoming his continuous Insomnia.
My name is Blaine Devon Anderson and from what you have just read you should have understood that I suffer from Insomnia, at least I hope you have or I'm slightly worried. Sorry that was rather rude of me or thats what my parents would consider it as. Which is probably where this all started: my parents.
Stephen and Pam Anderson are considered by many as a very reputable family, always dressed in the most expensive clothes with a very young dapper son, e.g. me. Except all of that isn't true, well not in the eyes of my father, forever has he been disappointed in me being gay. At first he wished it was just a phase but after a steady 2 years of me having to remind him of my sexuality he realised there was no changing me, and that annoyed him greatly. I would like to point out that he never hurt me physically, he never got that bad but physical abuse is not the only type as I'm sure you know. It started out at just tiny little add ins in conversations about being such a "girly" boy which after sometime turned to calling me a "fag". To many, this word would throw them over the top and would be their final straw but I knew that even though it is such a terrible word it will never hurt as much as being kicked and punched. At least that's what I thought and that is when the start of the never sleeping began. I was scared that my father would soon figure out that he could get rid of me if he just wanted to, when I was in my sleep, so I stopped out of fear.
This continued till my mother persuaded my father to send me to an all boy boarding school, Dalton Academy. Unlike my father, my mother knew that being gay wasn't a bad thing and was just the same boy that they raised but like me she was afraid of her husband who wasn't that shy to have a couple of bottles of wine ever other day. Dalton Academy had a non-bullying policy which as my mother would say, "keep you out of harm" (does having no sleep count as harm though).
I moved to Dalton half way through the second year of high school, which unfortunately due to the lack of teaching at my first school put me back a year. It wasn't like I was stupid, I just wasn't up to Dalton Academy standard yet. I was placed in a room by myself after the subtle request put in by my mother, one of the few perks to being gay I guess. My form tutor said it was mandatory for first years to join a club especially as I had come in half way through the academic year. Except the only problem was that I wasn't good at anything (well that's what I thought at the time) so my tutor: Mr Lorrell said he would give me a few weeks to decide.
This is were my life started to get better, a tiny little bit at a time.
Dalton Academy Warblers; the most reputable club in the school, so of course my father thought that I should join them but after the endless years of abuse from the jocks my confidence wasn't particularly at the greatest especially not high enough to sing in front of a group of strangers. So I lied to my father and pretended that I joined the Warblers and they were the best thing that had ever happened to me but actually the most contact I've had with a Warbler is a slight glance from my "next door neighbour" as I was moving in.
My tutor sadly, was insistent that I joined a club, however my sure shyness was adamant on not talking to anyone and letting people get to know me, which to this day I'm still trying to work out why. My tutor had decided to write down a number of clubs that I might enjoy, as I can now see that back then he was actually worried for me. My hair had become wild and shaggy and long, I could not bother in ironing my uniform like I did for the first week or so where my father kept visiting; I had completely broken.
"Now Blaine, I know this is difficult, moving schools and making new friends but I'm sure that if you put just a tad more effort into trying, you might find life here at Dalton just that little easier". Mr Lorrell my tutor said in a caring tone, which I did not recognise at the time.
I gave a polite nod in return, never losing the whole of my manners.
"A way to do this is by joining a club, like I have already told you. I have taken the care of writing a few down for you as well, as I know you have had difficulty in choosing". A very polite way of putting it, now that I think back. "I think that you should choose one of these" he said while passing me the paper with neat joined up writing crammed on it "or you might as well leave Dalton" he joked. Except at that point I probably would have preferred the latter.
Clubs/Activities for Blaine Anderson
Chess Club
Badminton
Cricket
Lacross
Fencing
Chemistry Club
Resistant Material Club
Soccer
Football
Scrabble Club
Games of Thrones Reenactment
War Reenactment
War Understanding Club
Pokemon Championships
Jazz Club
Christian Union Club
Religious Studies
Harry Potter Appreciation
Rock Band
Orchestra
Warblers
Here, as you can see is a copy of said paper, all of which I hope you agree were not ideal, for a gay closeted shy teenager which barely talks to anyone or at all.
"Blaine, that list gives a good range of types of clubs you can join so it should be easier joining one, yes?" He questioned.
At this point in the conversation I had slightly zoned out and had started staring at his collection of medals and certificates on the wall behind of him. Which he of course noticed.
"Ahhh, the good old days before I had even thought about becoming a teacher. I used to be a boxer you see, thats what the majority of these are for except the odd few for my teaching certificates". The wall was covered with them, I'd like to think he wasn't trying to show off with them he just didn't know what to do with them, and he only put them there because he didn't know where else to put them. "I had to stop in my mid twenties due to a shoulder injury, I even used to run the club here until none of the other pupils wanted to join, I had a great deal of students who wanted to become boxers at the start of my job here, but now it's not one of those common dreams you grow up with" He had started to ramble.
I rudely interrupted him, not knowing what I was saying, "Me and my brother used to box when I was little, it would drive my parents insane trying to make us stop which was actually more fun than the boxing. We would even make the WWE belts and make championships with different classes, my brother only let me win the womens though and occasionally the lightweight, he would always win the heavyweight", I blurted out, not knowing what I was saying.
Mr Lorrell was shocked, and I'm not surprised, in the month or so that I had been at Dalton I had only answered questions with one word answers or sometimes rather rudely with a glance. No wonder he sat there for maybe a minute just staring, while at the same time I was sitting there shocked by myself, never had I thought that just a simple subject like boxing would send me on such a tangent.
"So… I guess you're a fan of boxing then, Mr Anderson?" Mr Lorrell inquired after snapping out of his little trance.
"Not as such, Sir". I replied coldly.
"Oh, I thought for a minute there, that maybe I would perhaps get to reinstate the old club again, even one member would be okay, but I guess not, hey?" He paused not knowing exactly what to say next, so I replied with a agreeing hmmm. "So if you could have a look at that piece of paper with the clubs I thought you might like on tonight, we could meet tomorrow or maybe the day after that, huh?"
"Yes, of course Mr Lorrell" I replied, not putting any emotion in my voice, as well as knowingly knowing that I wont be seeing Mr Lorrell tomorrow or after that.
"And if you do ever need to relieve stress Mr Anderson, there is still an old punching bag hung up in the changing room, if you want to change your mind". I did not reply to this as such, instead I stood up and left with a quick nod.
Still planning for later.
Now I'm guessing that you who are reading this will probably get the hint of what I'm trying to tell you, and I am neither proud or ashamed at what I tried to do that night, and I am sure those of you who have not tried or never will, will understand how bad I felt, and those of you who have tried and evidently failed or changed your mind must think that I didn't have it that bad.
Once leaving Mr Lorrell's office I headed straight to room avoiding any contact with anyone I walked past. I went as quickly as I could without going so quickly that it would be noticeable, and slammed my door shut as quick as I could.
Since my arrival at Dalton Academy for Boys, my mother had insisted on the Doctor on giving me anti-depressants, and since I no longer had the supervision of my mother no one noticed in me not taking them and instead storing them for weeks.
The second my door was shut I went straight to my en-suite where I took out the bottles of anti-depressants and took to my bed. I sat down on my crisp white covers and swallowed as many as I could and laid back ready for the inevitable. At least thats what I thought it was going to be.