Too analytical for my own good

10th February 2012

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You can’t count on anyone but yourself. You can’t trust anyone. When will you learn to put yourself first?

10th February 2012

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What do you do when you feel forgotten? When you don’t feel important anymore? When you feel invisible? When you realize you don’t mean shit to them in comparison to how much you care? When you realize you’d take the bullet and they’d use you as a shield? You press the off switch. You turn everything off.

7th February 2012

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When the lights go out,
And the curtains are pulled,
He knows without doubt,
The audience was fooled.

- Yours truly

7th February 2012

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I want a man with problems.

Someone with baggage.

Someone with a story.

Someone I can help.

Someone who needs me.

Someone unforgettable.

A beautiful mess is all I’m asking for.

7th February 2012

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Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god. –Aristotle, Politics

I am not a joiner. Somewhere I once said that people join clubs now for the very reason they once carried them, a need for security. Maybe I’m alone more often than I should be, because I try to find security within myself. –Rod McKuen, Alone

Loners, if you catch them, are well worth the trouble. Not dulled by excess human contact, nor blasé or focused on your crotch while jabbering about themselves, loners are curious, vigilant, full of surprises. They do not cling. Separate wherever they go, awake or asleep, they shimmer with the iridescence of hidden things seldom seen. ––Anneli Rufus, Party of One: The Loners’ Manifesto

18th September 2011

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I just want to tell someone..

I’ve gotten to the point where I can no longer look at myself in the mirror. I don’t understand why I am so insecure. I just don’t get what’s wrong with me. I hate my body, and that’s about the only physical insecurity I have. I’m emotionally insecure. I look myself in the eyes and blink away tears, letting them roll down my cheeks and drip off of my jaw line.

So let me get this straight, I’m a young gentleman, 17 yrs old, and I have a lot going for me. Perfect grades. Too ambitious to ever let myself fail. I’ve always pushed myself; my parents have never had to make me do homework and I rarely ever needed them to help me. In elementary school, I moved around a bit and finally ended up in the small town of New Palestine, Indiana, known for it’s mass amounts of prejudice and stuck up residents. I was a somewhat obnoxious child. I always wanted attention, ADHD was definitely evident; I always got in trouble for talking. For whatever reason, I just never was able to fit in. I had a friend here and there and we would maybe hang out every few months, but I’d never be invited anywhere. I grew up very lonely; my mother was my only friend. I began getting made fun of in 5th grade. My most particular memory is that of the backseats of the school bus. I sat back there because I was a 5th grader, the big man on campus at elementary school. A few boys in my grade, one in particular named Cameron, were not very nice to me. This was the first time I had ever heard the word ‘queer-bait’. I had no idea what it meant, later on I told my mom about these boys and of course, being the overprotective (which I’m thankful for now that I’m older) mother she is, called the school and got these boys in trouble. I began to sit in the front seats with the first and second graders. They seemed to like me a lot. I could make them laugh and smile. They had no desire to be mean, so innocent.

After making it through elementary school, I continued on to middle school. On my first day of school, I got on the bus, and two seventh grade boys, Dillon and Nick, decided to speak to me. They sat right near the entrance and there was no way of avoiding them. They called me Michael Jackson, and this was the same year that Michael Jackson had became infamous for molestation of boys. My day was ruined. They called me that almost every day relentlessly. I had never met these guys before and I didn’t understand what I had done to them. Nick lived in my neighborhood and my mother, being overprotective yet again, talked with his parents and he got in trouble and was forced to ‘be nice’ to me. Throughout middle school, I still didn’t have any friends. The kids I sat with at lunch rarely went out of their way to speak to me. I met a lot of new people but I still didn’t have any friends. I remember one group of girls, Jade in particular, saying to me ‘Shut up, no body likes you.’ And I often was told how ‘annoying’ I was. I always tried to make people laugh and maybe make some friends, but that never really worked out. Boys I didn’t know picked on me, and needless to say, I heard the word ‘gay’ a lot. I came home from school and cried almost every day. My mom’s heart was broken over and over again as she had to hold me, rub my hair, and comfort me. I wasn’t the skinniest back then, so I think that contributed to my problem as well. Naturally, no one ever wanted me on their team in gym. Another vivid memory is getting off the bus on a hot summer day and walking down my street. I didn’t dare turn around when boys screamed ‘fag’ at the top of their lungs out the windows; I pretended I couldn’t hear them. I’d cry to myself walking down the street before I even got to my house. Things changed a lot in eighth grade, and not for the better.

I’d been having funny feelings ever since fourth grade. I remember sneaking onto my parents’ computer early in the morning to look up pornography. At this time I didn’t even know there was a word for it. I would just look up ‘XXX.’ Eventually I began to search only, ‘XXX Men.’ I was online chatting with people, who are probably really creepy, but I didn’t know any better. Something was wrong with me, I thought. The people at school must have been convincing me to be gay. I would wake up every morning telling myself, “you are not gay, you are not gay…” and so forth. I fought it so hard for a long time. I didn’t want them to be right. My mentality changed around seventh grade. I began to think, “You know what, I’ll show them gay.” I mean after all, it’s what they wanted right? All of these feelings most likely contributed to the countless tears I had cried over the years. The first person I told was my cousin Ashley. She lives in Tennessee where I grew up and her and I are very close, only a year apart. We would talk on the phone about it all the time and she always kept her word. Then one day I decided that I couldn’t keep the secret from my parents any longer. I got home from school, called my mom and told her, then ran away for about 30 minutes to the playground near my house. She was upset. I thought I was going to get into trouble. I had already been going to therapy for anger. I mean, when I was very young, 7-9, I remember wrapping a cord from the phone around my neck and trying to kill myself. In sixth grade, my parents looked at the history on the computer, which I didn’t know was there, and they called me in to talk about what I had been looking up. I cried so hard, because again, I was so scared that I was going to be punished. They told me it was okay and not to do it again. I begged for a whipping or some type of punishment; I felt so guilty. A few weeks later, I had been in the kitchen, it had been a bad day which is no surprise, and I had gotten angry because I was in trouble for something. I was very upset. I pulled open the utensil drawer and took out our big butcher knife. I went to my mom, pointed the knife to my chest, crying, and asked her to just do it. I told her I couldn’t and I was begging her to do it. She obviously took the knife away from me and I sobbed and dryheaved in her arms for the rest of the knife. There I was back at therapy again. I eventually got out of it, but I figured that when I told my parents I was gay, that I was going to have to go to ‘straight’ therapy. I did end up going to therapy, but it wasn’t to try and convince me I wasn’t gay, it was just to help me with my anger and depression. Remember, all of this is happening to a seventh grader. My parents thought it was a phase for a while. Though from the beginning, they both accepted and supported me and told me they would love me no matter what but everything seemed so different. I was told not to tell anyone, but unfortunately I did not listen. In eighth grade I told people at school randomly one day. It quickly got out to the entire school. The bullying got worse. The girls acted like they were my friends and treated me so differently now that I had told them I was gay. I thought I had some friends then, but still nothing had changed. I had fake girls and more bullying from guys. I began to act out and got into a lot of trouble with the administration. I also became some what of a bully to a sweet, innocent, mentally handicap girl because people thought it was funny, and I thought it made people like me. My mom was very disappointed in me when that happened; she thought she had raised me better than that. Which she did, but I was rebellious at the time.

High school sucked, still no friends, lots of bullying. I heard the words fag, gay, queer, among others, at least twice every passing period. It seemed normal to me just because it was part of my every day life. Death threats led to me switching schools. At my new school, things were so different. It is a much bigger and much more diverse school. No one knew my business like everyone at New Pal did. I ‘blossomed’ from the fat weird kid I had been before, to a still weird, but (I’m trying to figure out how to say this without sounding full of myself.) better looking, skinnier, more outgoing man. It is so easy to make friends there. I have a ton of friends. I say hi to literally at least 5 people each passing period. But I haven’t made any real friends. I haven’t made any friends that I can talk to about things like my feelings and stuff; no one that actually cares. I feel so lonely around all these smiling faces, and I honestly believe no one has a clue.

Other things that have messed with me are my parents divorce, which really upset me at the time, though now I do realize it was for the best. And my first relationship which eventually tore me in two, making me even more insecure. I’ve been to a lot of therapy and tried a few medications to treat my depression but none of it ever actually seems to work. I always end up spiraling down into the depths of a dark blue ocean with an anchor wrapped around my feet. I fight it so much, but it occasionally catches me off guard.

I’m a lot better now than I used to be. I have an awesome boyfriend of almost 3 months; finally found a guy that lights me up when I am and when I am not around him. I am way too jealous which is completely unfair to him, he has done ABSOLUTELY nothing to deserve it. I trust him completely, with everything I have. Sometimes I can quiet the jealousy down for a while, but eventually it always comes back. If I can’t get over my insecurity, it will rip us apart. I’d be devastated. We have so much fun together and I honestly think he’s the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s so sweet to me and always comforting me when I’m down. I could go on and on but I can most definitely sum it all up with this. He’s my best friend and I love him.

If my insecurity drives him away from me, which it will if I let it, I will never be able to forgive myself.

23rd June 2011

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Do you, don’t let someone hold you back. I do me everyday and I’m happier than ever.