gleediaries | @ justbeingaqueen // Episode 1x01 "Pilot"

It's not healthy to want to gag someone with a cheap scarf and lock them in the cupboard under the stairs, is it? I barely even know Rachel Berry, but she honestly has the ability to turn me into a serial killer. She just has to open her mouth, and I feel like I'm about to go all Bruce Banner up in this business. But it just figures I would have to make some sort of glorious sacrifice to actually have a realm where I can finally do what I feel like I'm made for.

Perform.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I know Glee Club is never going to be a Broadway stage, and considering how much effort it took us to pull together as a group, I doubt it will even be an avenue to put on a school performance without making people's ears bleed or set off a chorus of vomiting in the audience just because show choir has the ability of Dementors in some people and syphons all the good things out of them. Music is in my blood, though, and I'll be damned if I am going to fabulous lie down and be walked all over when I could have a chance to at least write show choir on my college applications when I apply to Juilliard to pave my way as the next Michael Crawford. I am fabulous, and I will be damned if Finn Hudson, who is so huge, he reminds me a little of Sloth out of The Goonies, just way hotter, is going to steal my spotlight... and I'll be damn if Rachel Berry is going to screech her way into every solo we attempt. I wonder if I can buy chlorform on eBay...

That aside, though. I'm really just glad to be part of a group. Any group. I've never really been part of one before. It's been a whole lot of me, myself and I because people usually think weirdo cooties will rub off on them if they stand too close to me. Am I really a weirdo? Do they know my secret? Whatever happens, no one can ever find out that. If I'm already this much social roadkill, joining a show choir group isn't going to do me any favours. I'm aware of this, but it's performing. Life is lonely, and it's miserable a lot of the time, but when I can sing, it feels like there's some sort of life at the end of the tunnel. There has to be a path to stardom and greatness that doesn't involved being tossed into dumpsters or having a slushie thrown in your face on a daily - or sometimes bi-daily - basis.

Look at Audrey Hepburn, Cary grant, Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Gardland. Did they all spend their childhoods with a faceful of locker or egg yolk dripping from their hair? There has to be a solution, and I know I just need to find it. If it means biding my time until I can get out of this cow town, I can do it. And in the meantime, I can hone my performing skills in show choir with some... frankly strange little people with big egos. I'm never going to be a footballer or a cheerleader. I'm never going to walk down the halls of the school with people shooting me admiring looks. I'm never going to have someone to love and hold hands with or sit together in math. But at least I can sing, and it doesn't have to be in the shower or hiding in my room with a hairbrush mic.

I finally feel like I can be The Kurt Hummel, Superstar! Just as soon as I pick pieces of garbage off my Marc Jacob sweater and put Arnica on the bruise I got on my elbow when it banged against the side of the dumpster...

Sincerely,
~ Kurt Elizabeth Hummel xoxo