Dear Finn,
I really miss you. I haven't seen you for a couple weeks and it's not settling well. Sometimes when I hear noises during the night outside, I run to the window thinking you'll be standing there in your white and red Letterman jacket, singing me a love ballad mash up dedicated just to me. Don't you know that I could make you so much happier than that floozy baby mama of yours? Oops...I mean puck's baby mama. Sore subject. Sure I don't cheerlead, but I can read. Big difference. Anyways, don't strain that voice of yours...and I'll see you soon hopefully. Oh, and tell Mercedes to slow her roll. She's pushin it. And can you tell Kurt to stop singing in such high octaves and stick to his original range? Only dogs can hear him when he sings that high.
Love you muffin.