November 1, 2012

Dear Kurt,

I've written and crossed out at least five different versions of this letter. None of them sounded right–none of them sounded good enough for you. Well, no letter in this whole world could ever be worthy of you, but I'll be damned if I don't try.

What was I thinking? I ask myself this question every single night–who knew four words could cause insomnia–and have no better answer than when I started. The truth is, I wasn't thinking I suppose. And I have no excuses; I'm a grown man (I will ask to you to refrain from making a height remark, though I know we are not on joking terms). When I rang Eli's doorbell, I knew exactly what he wanted. I had seen enough Dr. Phil episodes (hush, you) to know what this was. But in my mind, he was all I had.

I never had the support system you did. I am no way downplaying your past, but I'm afraid it's true. While your friends may have seemed crappy at the time, they were a hell of a lot better than what I have now. Anyone in the New Directions I was even remotely close to I pushed away when you went to New York. I was pissy, annoying, and whiny. And thinking only about whom? Myself, of course. My Dalton friends were all gone, and my parents never gave a shit about me. So, when you left for New York, I felt more alone than I ever had before. I had no one to talk to, or to even be on my side. I was isolated in a dark world, searching for any light I could find, like I had after the Sadie Hawkins dance; the difference was the dance hadn't been my fault. It was in that forsaken, desolate place that I met Eli.

Eli was a lot like Sebastian in the way that he knew what he wanted and played any games necessary to get it. I was on Facebook one day and Eli friended me. I saw that he was a mutual friend of Jeff's, so I accepted the request. He immediately began privately chatting with me non-stop and I found it easy to open up to him, so I did. He was someone who would listen to me, console me when I needed you and didn't want to be a burden. I felt he truly understood me. A few days later he changed. The conversations started to take a different turn. Eli stopped being as kind and considerate as he was in the beginning and began being more forceful. He was trying to take me out for more than just a coffee run, and I kept telling him 'no'. Finally, one day, he snapped. He told me he would make my life a living hell if I didn't sleep with him. At that point, it already was, and I couldn't stand to lose the one lifeline I had. He knew I was weak and an emotional wreck and he took advantage of that. When I poked him, it was purely out of desperation. In retrospect, I was being completely ridiculous. I could have easily blocked this creep and never heard from him again, but I still held on to the nice Eli from the very beginning. I thought that if I slept with him, he'd think I was worth something, and that he'd have a reason to stay in my life. Of course I was wrong, but I was so starved for companionship that I would have done anything not to lose him.

I knew things would be bad from the moment I stepped foot inside his house. It was nothing like yours: it didn't feel homey or smell like freshly baked cookies. The whole thing felt like a business transaction. Eli pushed me onto his bed and attacked my face. It felt beyond disgusting. There was always something different about your kisses that I could never place; it would make my heart race and my head spin. I realize now that that thing was love. Eli didn't love me, and I didn't love him. While Eli and I were kissing, my mind wandered to the situation with you and Karofsky, and how you told him that you couldn't punch the idiot out of him, and he couldn't punch the gay out of you. It had suddenly occurred to me that if I slept with Eli, he wouldn't suddenly love me. Sex isn't meant to form a bond between two people; it's meant to strengthen an existing one. I couldn't force feelings that weren't there. And so I slapped him in the face, ran out the door, and deleted my Facebook. It was both the easiest and hardest thing I've ever done. While I knew I was pushing away my anchor, I also knew I had an even better one in New York. The second I left that house my mind was made up. I needed to see you, with your breathtaking beauty and loving nature. I needed to feel wanted again.

I saw Burt, you know. I visited him in the garage a few weeks ago. As I expected, he was pissed, but we had a civil conversation, with minimal mentioning of the rifle in his closet. I told him most of what I just mentioned to you. He suggested a therapist for my depression (which has helped, though some days are just hard) and gave me the best piece of advice I could ever receive. He told me that I matter.

Aside from you, nobody ever told me, or even implied that I was important. I will never be able to fully express how much that conversation means to me. If you only do one thing for me for the rest of your life, do this. Tell Burt how amazing he is and never take him for granted. I would give anything for a father who stood by me, refrained from judging me, and accepted me for who I am. I am forever in his debt, and in yours as well.

I love you. I never stopped, not once, for a second. I got lost along the way, but I never had a doubt in my mind that you were the best thing to ever happen to me, and if I didn't screw it up, we'd be on rocking chairs one day, discussing our first kiss with our grandchildren. I knew for a while that I wanted to spend my entire life with you. It's bizarre when I figured it out, but as you know already, I'm famous for my impeccable timing. It was two days before Christmas, and the next day I was being dragged to Delaware for the annual Anderson family get together, where I was forced to make up a girlfriend, talk amicably about her (though any girl in the world could never be as beautiful and perfect as you), and charm the pants off the whole family so they didn't figure out there was a "dirty fag" among them. Going to your house was the last shebang for me, and it made that Christmas the best one I've ever had.

The specific moment was when we were baking gingerbread cookies. You showed me your mother's recipe, and I was the first person you ever allowed to cook with you. We were moving in sync and everything felt to strangely domestic and normal, and when you handed me the whisk I swore I would never be more in love with you than I was in that moment. I knew that I wanted to, hell, needed to marry you one day, and call you mine forever.

It turns out I was wrong about what I said before. Every day, every second from then on I have loved you a little bit more. I'll admit it, you have my whole heart and there's nothing I can do about it. While I want to run to your doorstep in New York and beg for forgiveness until I keel over, I can't. It's not fair of me to do so. I don't deserve you. Frankly, I don't think anyone deserves you, but that's your decision. I'm just happy to know I'm your first. Now, when you think you found 'the one', you can go for it. He'll have every nice quality I had and so many more. He also wouldn't be such a douche.

Before I end this awfully long-winded and painfully ineloquent letter, I want to wish you the best of luck in the future. I know for sure you don't need it, but I'll be there for you. I'll be in the audience of your first show, and your last one. I'll buy any piece of clothing you manufacture and try my hardest to make outfits you'd be proud of. I'll read every article and book about you, and I'll look on every step of the way, whether you remember me or not. I'll tell my children, "I love this man with everything I have, and I made a grave mistake that cost me the world". I'll raise those children to be honest and open if it's the last thing I do.

I've decided to conclude with a quote. Song lyrics, actually.

Seasons may change, winter to spring

But I love you until the end of time

Come what may

Come what may

I will love you until my dying day

You have my heart forever, Kurt. Your choice is what you want to do with it. Any choice you make, I'll agree with as long as you are happy. I know I've over exhausted my apologies, but you will never know how truly and deeply sorry I am. You are my moon, my sky, and my world, and I hope someday a man on this planet can be that to you.

Forever yours,

Blaine

(A/N): Thanks for reading! That was really emotionally draining to write :/

I know I left it open-ended (and I apologize for that!) but in my mind Kurt forgives Blaine and they eventually get back together and live long, happy lives together (:

If you liked it, please leave a review! I'd love to hear your thoughts! (:

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-Carter