February 4

I opened the box today. I think the only reason I did was because today marks five months, and every month since you left me I've been writing over and over again how much I miss you, how much it hurts. It's always the same message in different words. I needed something new. My parents left to some seminar in DC so they'll be gone for a few days. I'm thankful for the house to myself anyways. But the box. It just sat there, in the corner of room since the day Burt gave it to me. He's a smart man, I think. I don't know how he figured out all the things in the box were important, but he did. There were a few little things in there, like the cards I got you for all the Valentines Days we spent together and the coupons we never used for the Lima Bean. There was a train ticket to New York and I remembered when you practically begged Burt to let you go with me for the day. We went site seeing and exploring and had breakfast at Tiffany's, and I'll never forget the way your eyes were lit up that entire day. You couldn't get enough of the city that never sleeps. I also found one of my hoodies and a t-shirt that I've been looking for for months. I knew you had it. At the bottom of the box I found your sketch book, the one full of clothing designs you barely ever let me see. I looked through them. God, you were so talented, Kurt. You would've made it in New York, I know you would've. I had to laugh when I pulled out that picture of us from your senior prom. That was the first time you ever saw me without gel in my hair because of Brittany's stupid gel ban. I tacked it to my wall, just above my bed. There was another one too, that Rachel or Mercedes must have taken of us without us noticing. In the picture, we're at school and your leaning against a set of lockers, looking at me and laughing. I must have stared at that picture for an hour, at least. I can't get over how happy you look there, how happy we both look. And the way the picture was taken, it seems so natural between us. You laughing and me with a stupid grin on my face. The last thing in the box was a folded up piece of loose leaf paper. It looked kind of old when I picked it up, the corners were bent and the paper a little crumbled. It had my name on it, but I didn't open it yet. I know what it is. I know why Burt put it at the bottom of the box. He wanted me to see it last, to go through everything before I started crying like a baby. It's your fucking goodbye, isn't it? You wrote me a fucking letter, and now I have to read it if I ever wanna know why, if I ever want closure. Jesus, Kurt. God, I'm not ready for that. It took me weeks just to go through that god damn box, when am I gonna be ready to read your goodbye?

February 7

I can't stop thinking about that goddamn letter. Part of me wants to read it so bad and the other part of me wishes it didnt exist. I can't decide if its better if I never know. Maybe it would be better if I never knew, but even I know there's no way anyone can stop me from reading that letter, no matter when I finally decide to read it. Maybe.. I don't know when I'll read it, but I know I will, eventually. Not now, though. I'm not ready to let you go yet.

February 11

Burt called today. He asked if I've read the letter yet. When I told him no he kind of sighed a little on the other end of the phone and it made me feel a little guilty. I think he's been waiting for me to read it and come talk to him. But that's another thing. Once I read this letter, what happens? What happens to Burt and Carole and Finn? I've never.. I don't know what to do when it comes to them. Burt is like a father to me, in a weird way. Even before we were dating he made me feel like I belonged, ya know? Like I was already a part of your family. And what about Carole? She's such a sweet women and even though she would never take the place of your mother I know how much she meant to you. You meant a lot to her too, Kurt. You meant a lot to all of us. I'll be seeing Finn around in school, at least for the rest of the year. But after I read this letter, after I read your goodbye, am I supposed to say goodbye to them too? Is it really over after that?

February 14

Fuck Valentine's Day. I hate it, I hate it so much. I hate seeing happy couples everywhere I go and I hate seeing them hold hands and kiss each other's foreheads. I hate seeing guys buying rings and necklaces and chocolates and candy for their girlfriends and I hate hearing girls squeal over them. I hate it because I haven't seen one gay couple; I haven't seen one guy give another guy an expensive ring or a girl giving another girl a rose and some chocolates. And I hate it because you're not here and I feel so alone and sad all the time, and I don't know how to make it go away. I just want to be happy, but I don't think I'll ever be happy again.

February 17

I couldn't find it in myself to go to school today. It's almost 2:30 and I haven't even gotten out of bed yet. I just want to sleep all the time now. I don't even wanna eat. If it weren't for my mom and Rachel coming to check up on me all the time I probably wouldn't. If it were up to me I'd be in bed all the time. My mom let me have the day off today, though. I've been going to school regularly, especially because its getting close to the end of the year, but I needed a break.

February 19

Unfolding a piece of paper has never been so hard. Honesty, I was shaking so hard I couldn't even hold it still enough to pull it out of the envelope. Your handwriting, though. That's what got to me. Just like it did at Christmas. It's because it's you, a piece of you that I still have and it makes me feel like the stupidest guy in the world because I'm crying over another man's handwriting, but I can't help it. You wrote with the same wit and sarcasm that you've always had.

Blaine,

I'm currently sitting at the desk in my bedroom. It's three in the morning and I'm not sure if I'm awake or not. I don't know how I'm supposed to start this letter; what I'm supposed to say. But I'm not saying goodbye. Before you finish reading, I want you to know that's not what this is - it's not my goodbye.

I almost fucking peed myself. Jesus, Kurt. I was sitting there thinking the letter was you finally leaving me, breaking the only thing I have that still connects me to you. I sat there for ten minutes before I forced myself to keep going.

I remember when I first met you. I pretended to be a new student at Dalton and honestly, was I really that bad of an actor? You saw right through me and you understood me so well. I think that's why I opened up to you that first day. And around that time things were so.. Bad and I couldn't help but think you were like my own little piece of.. Something. I'm not gonna say heaven because you know I don't believe in that kind of thing, but you get the point.

I can see you rolling your eyes at me right now - don't try to pretend you weren't, Blaine Anderson. The cheesy romantic crap is usually your job, but it's true. You were my own little secret, my own piece of something that no one else had and even though it took forever for us to finally get together, I'm so fucking glad we did.

I started crying then, so hard it took me ten minutes to actually see the writing on the paper.

Anyways, if you're reading this it probably means I'm not around anymore and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you in that hellhole of a town and I'm sorry that I didn't explain, but I hope to god this letter makes up for it.

You're expecting an explanation, a reason why I thought things were so fucking bad I had to hang myself from a ceiling fan to make the pain go away. I know you are. I would be wondering the same things.

Let me just start by saying that you were an amazing boyfriend. You're an amazing person, you never did a thing wrong and the fact that I've left you alone is one of the worst things about this. But I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't handle being pushed into lockers and thrown into dumpsters every god damn day. Getting slushied three times a week and harassed takes a toll on someone. You're probably thinking 'why didn't I just go talk to you?' Because, Blaine. It's not that easy. It was never that easy. There's so many things, so many secrets that no one knew and if I tried to talk to you I would've had to tell them all, right from the beginning, and that's not something I could handle.

After a while you kind of become numb to the pain, the name calling and the bullying. But it never really goes away. You know that. And I was okay living with that pain, but it wasn't something anyone should ever in a million years have to go through. But then Karofsky started to send death threats again, I don't think I told you that. But he's probably long gone now too. Not dead, but gone. I wouldn't be surprised if he moved out of state.

I stopped for a minute and thought about it. Karofsky had transferred two months ago.

I don't.. There's not much else to explain, really. Just that being called a faggot and being told to die every fucking day really does have it's affect on people. And everyone wanted me gone, everyone wanted me dead.

I didn't want you gone, god dammit. I need you.

So I did it. Everybody got what they wanted, except for me and you. I know thats what you're thinking, because even as I'm writing this its what I'm thinking. We didn't get what we wanted. We didn't get to graduate together and get the fuck out of that town. We didn't get to live together in New York and we didn't get to get married and adopt kids and raise a family. We didn't get to sit in rocking chairs on our front porch and reminisce about our young love. We didn't get our fairy tale ending and I'm so fucking sorry.

That's all I've ever wanted with you, Blaine. It's all I've ever wanted from the moment I met you. But we can't always get what we want, can we?

I know you're going to hold onto this letter, you're going fold it and unfold it again and again. You might not read it again, but you'll keep it. And I hope that you do. I hope you can keep this one little piece of me, because the world has taken everything else from you. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left you and I'm sorry that you're alone. I'm sorry that the best thing to happen to you was also the worst and I'm especially sorry that this is how our story ends.

But I want you to do something for me, Blaine. I want you to move on. I want you to graduate, and go to collage. I want you to meet someone new and fall in love again. I don't want you to be bitter because of me. God, I know it sounds sick and twisted, but I want you to be happy. I love you, I love you to the moon and the stars and all the way back to my heart, I hope you know that.

Yours always,

Kurt.