Last time I wrote I wasn’t under a big load of stress. Or at least it seems to me that these times are more decisive than the previous ones. Truth is that past times had emotional stress while newer times have college stress. And no, it has nothing to do with coursework. Current stress has to do with finding college. I am currently enrolled in an overseas campus and have to transfer to some university in the near future. Under these new circumstances I am preparing my admission essay, in fact, I should be writing it and NOT THIS.
But, let’s consider this as my break time, since I already placed some of my information in there.
Last time, I was struggling with losing my best friend. I was all into trying to keep him near me, instead of flying him away with my words, and damn, that wasn’t so easy. He can be, in certain times, so mean and cruel to me, but still, I think, I would have reacted pretty darned similar if I were straight and were in the midst of a relationship.
So, he went into his rampage and well, who could snap him out of it? Nobody, I guess. Truth be told, I didn’t. Perhaps it was the circumstances he was going through or he wanted something from me, but as far as I know, my words had simply no effect on him. It was like he was avoiding me at his fullest, and furthermore, he didn’t even want to remember our good times. Just when I thought his influence wouldn’t be so marked, my iPod plays “Cancer” from his favorite band. Memory Cancer – I thought.
I was shocked actually. I kind of expected his angry behavior since I was being no different from those guys in the buses he is used to ride, those who are openly gay and stare down at his crotch or grab his arse. The only difference is that he knew me all-around, he was well grounded on my matters, and well, I thought that accounted for, as he had said before, a never-ending friendship. Now, as of today, that sounds magical and unrealistic, and since I am no fairy, I am not buying that shit. His strong words just made me realize I am all alone in this journey. And in the end, we all are.
Now this gave me a new insight on friendship. There are no real friends, just occasional friends, some more frequent than others. Of course, that frequency relies simply on the type of personality you have. If you are easy to establish rapport with, then, heck, you are going to be flooded with friends. Don’t let this get you, they like your company. In the end, whatever the reason, it is a reason, so, nobody is your friend out of the love, but of a starting point, a reason. Change the reason they find you appealing for and you have just lost a friend. Now this makes me want to regret some words I have fed into some people’s ears.
Additionally, I had constantly heard people telling me friendship is not true and that in the end not even your friends are close. When I went to the states last year, I just realized that was true, but of course, being intoxicated with the “love” that sprouts from a friendship; one just gets to deny this truth. When I asked the people I was staying with for their friends they just said the kept no longer in touch, or that simply, they had no friends. Which is actually the same, a friend you no longer keep in touch with is just someone you shared time with. And if you think about it, life has been designed so that you have to rely on other people to get what you want, so in the end, it is normal. Thus, having shared should be accounted into something normal for your goals, which turns to be “using” somebody. But we don’t name it that way.
Don’t think I believe in the argument I just pulled out. My mind makes it but my heart is still stoned with the remaining of what I used to call friend-love. This is why I couldn’t believe he was reducing me into a fake guy who lied all these years so that he could have the opportunity to “confess” his dirty thoughts. I mean, he knew me, and he knew better than anyone else in this world I would never try to hurt him. I would surely hate me for it.
So I did. After realizing he was deeply hurt and was taking refuge in his girlfriend’s love, I just thought shitty of me. I had just written a huge turning point in our story, the one that leads towards the end. And I hated me for it.
The days that followed were just gloomy; I had no desire to eat, nor the ability to lift my head from my pillow. It literally took a whole lot of effort to take the initiative to get out of bed. I was constantly sobbing and wetting my blankets with endless streams of tears. I got used to being locked up in a room, staring at my food (especially my soup), and leaving my breakfast in the drawer right next to my bed. My maids were getting worried I had no food sometimes, and I just managed to tell them I wasn’t feeling right. Truth is that feeling right was not an issue, I felt right, but I just didn’t feel like me at all.
The images of him touching my chest while we were praying that night near the pier, stroke me plenty of times. I just couldn’t believe I had gone through all of that and now was forced to live alone, after all those wonderful moments he had gone together. Hurt and pain was involved through all of them, but love primed, as his love was engulfing, all-around, if it were sound I would say Surround Love System.
I hated me.
Suddenly, when you know you have nothing to lose, you begin trying new stuff. One night I was trying to cope with my feelings, and I thought some reading might make things a little more bearable. So I did. I took out a book from my bag; it was a book I received as my birthday gift. “Battling with the giants” was a nice book. I started to read it and was engaged. It resembled my life status. I had started my repentance period. It followed Elevation Church podcasts and many other scripture-related activities. I wrote to my friend, got no response. I made a calendar of my sinful activities. 88% of the time I managed to put those striving sinning needs down. The rest of the time I just engaged in jacking off, or some kind of offense. I tried to make it so my friend will trust me again. Truth is, I never knew if he ever checked it.
Christmas went away; I got no Merry Christmas from him. Same happened during New Year’s Eve. Anyways, I saw those things coming. Although he said he forgave me, things were never going to go back to normal. I miss my friend so badly, but he has changed during these years so boldly too. And since his birthday I barely had some kind of contact with him, so in that time, a lot of changes happened, and I have to say, I had no part in them. In the few times he could tell me something, I had realized he had changed. He cussed and cursed, he had been drinking for fun too much, and I can’t tell if he was involved into binge drinking or what, but he was different. But hey, that wasn’t as important as his heart. He was no longer the compassionate guy I found several years ago, or at least that was his tacit message every time I looked at his contact profile in my phone.
Right now, I just try to live with myself. I just don’t want to think about my sexual orientation or my needs. I just live by, following what feels right. In part he doesn’t care about me anymore, so I thought I shouldn’t care about me either. Pathetic, but it is what it is going on here. I just avoid talking on the issue, because every time I do, I cry. Recently I started talking to Alejandro, a gay guy, and well our talk made my cry a lot. He is into acceptance of who you really are and that kind of soothing philosophy. I was so in need of someone who can love me that I turned to him and well, I just realized, once again, I am not like him. Then Angel, ancient friend of mine, talked to me, I told him and he was flirting with me already. Every gay out there is waiting for some kind of love but they merely get sex. So, every time someone capable of loving for real shows up, they all jump to him to try to get him. I, too, am in look for someone who is capable of loving, but in hindsight, I just find people that want to get off in my arse.
I tried to get refuge in my “own kind” and just got disappointed. Lately, I have been reading gay stories. To my surprise love-related stories are called “gay fiction”. I stress out the word “fiction”. Perhaps the category is right. Perhaps gay love is just fiction and all there is to it is lust. When my dad talked to me relating gay issues he said I was confused. I don’t know any longer what should I do or where should I aim. Sometimes I would just really like to shut everything related this stuff and forget about it, rest my mind.
As I said, I am currently a leaf carried on by the wind. No strong character, no firmly decided orientation. No wonderings, just me. I can’t hate myself when no one else loves me, I just wouldn’t be able to handle it. And I can’t love my neighbor if I don’t love myself first.
Brother, I was a fool to let you slip away.
In need,
Reivax Onirem
