Got asked to do this. Might even do another reply thing. Just to showcase Blaine's reaction to this.

That depends on how you define "truly happy", Blaine.

I would say I am. Maybe even happier than when it was the two of us.

Next time, would you send your damn self-pity letters to my office? My husband found it and hasn't stopped asking. How am I to tell him about my fucking high school sweetheart? A guy I dumped many, many years ago.

You are right; I have everything I ever dreamed of, Blaine. I have the job. Do you? I have yet to see a poster for a show of yours. Did you give up on dreaming? If so, I was right back then. You're a naïve fool.

I bet you waited for me to come back to you, Anderson, while crying into the shoulder of another left back person. Rachel didn't make it big either. I never told her, but I bet you can for me. She's ordinary. There are so many girls with a little specialty to their looks and a sort of big voice.

But people like me? You would be able to count us. It's as simple as that, Blaine.

You are just two ordinary people.

I do remember everything you wrote about.

But don't you remember how you looked away when I walked with other guys? Or kissed them? You knew about that, didn't you? Stop lying to yourself, Blaine. It was over long before the second year of collage. It was over the day we promised, that we would never leave each other. You saw it in my eyes, didn't you? You knew I would burn you up and leave you.

You knew we didn't watch that stupid TV together anymore because we just weren't that kind of lovebirds anymore.

I'm surprised you don't mention the time where you were beat up and I didn't do anything. Wasn't that the first time I broke you? I saw you cry that night, like many to come. You know the awful thing about it? I had stopped caring. I didn't even feel the urge to lie with you or hug you. I didn't even want to kiss the pain away.

I did hear you sob the night before I left you. I was awake all night, and I decided, that it wasn't worth it to stay around.

Do you want to know why I didn't say anything to Rachel, besides what I wrote before? Not only would she have insisted, that we could work it out, she is just as stupid and naïve as you.

You, Blaine Anderson, is the kind of person I despise the most. You are always so open. Raw. So much like me when I met you, that it makes me sick. No one like you will make it any bigger than a few little shows. And I hate you, Anderson.

You got all the emotion out of me at all the wrong times. But I've learned to close myself up and not care anymore. We don't belong together and it makes my feel bad for you that you can't let go after so many years. You should. Or maybe you should kill yourself already.

You just sound like one of those lost poets we would listen to every Friday our first year in New York. Like the one that cried and you got on stage and told him, that it would be okay. Did you really believe that? Didn't you just want a better place to be, maybe share it with everyone you loved?

That's how you always were. Ever loving and caring about anyone you might meet. Every single person in the world mattered to you. Hell, you even cared for those who hated you. A habit you haven't changed.

Wasn't that what I fell for? The way you cared without knowing who I was. Never mind, that. Forget it.

Don't bother me, Blaine. Don't bother answering either; we are over.

Kurt.

I hurt myself writing this. I know it's out of character for Kurt, but I wanted to try it out.