thirty-seven.

gay-chronicles


37.


I SAW A MAN’S PENIS in my high school theater dressing room. It seemed to be averagely sized and an interesting shade of pink. It was also attached to a classmate I had never thought I’d see waist down.

His head was down, his blonde bangs hanging in his face. He was putting his boxers on, the faded fabric similar to that of every man’s Sunday Shorts–the pair you wear on laundry day. It’s that or commando. (Which you never do at school in case things get awkward, like ripping your pants and hoping to die rather than admit it actually happened.

So, I wondered why his checkered boxers were off in the first place, and of course I didn’t ask questions, but I was stunned by his … little piglet? See, I entered right as his shorts met his waist, so I missed how his pale, sunshine-less ass peeked out of the elastic, but then the unexpected happened.

His dick managed to slither and push its way out of the pee-hole.

I like to think I played it off really cool, but something tells me that he knows I was staring. At him. At IT. I was definitely staring. He pushed himself back in containment and smirked at me, his face slightly red.

I’d like to say that at this moment of the story I convinced him to show me more!–but my high school experience is rather suckish compared to that of any other horny teenager’s stories I’ve heard.

I told my best friend immediately after the “incident.” She knew him from middle school, so the gossip was extra juicy to her.

“And you’re sure it was pink?!”

“Absolutely.”


To my knowledge, many things happened in this dressing room with or without my presence–some things much more dramatic and shocking than that of the penis/piglet-story.

Once, in the same room,  I walked in on two boys making out. That was a wake up call that I wasn’t getting any action, and honestly, porn made it seem so much better.

This was also the same dressing room I came out to one of my best friends. Ironically it happened right after the PG 13 scene above. My friend was supposedly spectating and watching them–I think as some proof that the really did like each other or something. As the dramatic ass gay men, they turned it into a show fit with audience of one: her, who of course etched them on. Who doesn’t like to see scandalous things!? I walked in shortly after to find this gay-fiasco knowing exactly what was going on.

See, I knew what was going on because I was OBSESSED with one of the boys. I spent 3 years freaking out over his Justin Bieber-cut, pretty blue eyes and a solid B-list dancing skills. I walked in that room because I was jealous of what I knew would be happening.

Oh, high school … I don’t miss it.

(Perhaps I have an issue walking into things. I should really learn to knock.)

Also, if rumor truly has it: someone had to meet with the principal for doing-the-nasty during rehearsal. In that same dressing room. (This damn room has seen more action than I at this point.)

They were only the background extras for the show. I guess they felt their special talent would best be used behind the scenes.


I would never say high school was the best time of my life, but if I were still there, I’d believe it. I’d believe that h.s. was exactly how things should be, that I was cool enough for people to respect, that I had paid my nerdy dues and had graduated from Freshman Status to anything but Freshman Status.

My point is, I know that I’m not the same man I used to be, because who I used to be was a sadly proud gay boi who saw a pink penis in the dressing room.

Advertisements

those that question.

I feel that there are an unlimited amount of people in the world that have so much to live for, but so much life being wasted on thoughts that do not matter to others. People are unique. Not necessarily how they carry themselves, but because of how they think. People can be absolutely beautiful. Peoples minds are abolsutelt beautiful. 

I saw the beauty in someone today. 

ocean insomnia.

ocean insomnia.

my bed feels like an ocean

im swimming alone and drowning in in nonexistent sleep

ZZZ becomes synonymous with SOS, but no one is answering my plea

i am drowning and hurting and my lungs are numbing to the sounds of others that snore

dear god, save me from thy pain, as it haunts me to know that if you exist,

you leave me with the inability to do what we all crave

and that is to sleep with our eyes closed;

because with them open, we are reminded of the things that tear us apart

if i were a mermaid, i’d stay underwater forever and then some, because at least i could be swimming

in the ocean

and sleeping with the sharks

that already parade my mind

during sleepless nights

just dance.

He was beautifully placed in my life at the most random of times. I remember quite well the exact moment I saw him dance for the first time. He was in a crowd of people–at a gay club. I rarely go to clubs, so there’s got to be a reason we are both there.

I’m staring at his dirty blonde hair. I mean ‘dirty’ as a hygienic thing, not a color thing. My eyes fixate on his, both our hearts pounding to the blaring music from the DJ and their loud speakers.

Blue eyes, gorgeous smile and I picture he has a laugh that can reach miles!

On that night I didn’t say hello.

He was gone.

It’s Late.

So, like, tonight I realized a few things:

1) My best friend Is Nesha I’shae Smith.

2) I’m mad at my mom.

3) I have issues.
So, let’s start with Nesha. I owe this girl my life! She’s my ride or die and I would rather die than to see her drift away from me. Poetic, but truthful.

Tonight, we shared what I would like to call Casper. Because like a ghost, it creeped up on me and stayed with me for hours. I experienced pure happiness, confidence in memorization, understanding the complexities of our lives, embracing the danger we are to ourselves, accepting the reality I live in, and ultimately leaping towards a future I didn’t know existed.

Excuse my cryptic, melodramatic spill, but I don’t need the entire world knowing my business. Not yet.

Casper helped me focus, helped me concentrate, helped me relax and helped me cry.

Why was I crying, you ask?

2) My mother.

3) I have felt some type of way about my mom, but lately it’s been more relevant than ever!–because apparently my relationship with my mom is possibly the source of my “issues.”

Issues include, but are not limited: hating my mother, wanting to disown my mother, irrational behavior and anxiety when my mother is around, worried I might cause a terrible fight between my family and my mother.

I have ADHD symptoms and up until a month ago I would have bet money that I was one of the worst cases out there! Lo and behold, I took the test, got heavily evaluated and then revived my results.

Results showed that, yes, though I have symptoms, some other lying issues might be occurring: MY MOTHER.

I cannot blame her entirely, but with my past haunting me, I can’t imagine it’s too far from the truth.

Let me explain.

Results concluded that I have a certain type of PTSD, possible sleeping problems–because of course the issues are in the bedroom–and a series of other “maybes” in the diagnosis report. Jeez!

Maybe this, maybe that. That’s all the report read: several maybes, a suggested sleep study eval and to consider long term therapy…

This was the last thing I wanted to hear. I am suffering from ADHD.

I can’t remember shit…I have a terrible impulse problem. I cannot focus and often interrupt people, to which they get mad and/or assume I’m just rude or inconsiderate. I can’t prioritize.

I can’t stop thinking. I feel as if my brain is constantly on the go and when I try to sleep–it’s absolute hell. I can’t just go to sleep.

I loose entire conversations when I’m speaking with others and have to ask them to repeat things.

I make plans and they fall through because I forget I even said I’d do it. I’m considered “flaky.”

I can’t finish projects. Ever. Which is weird, because if my grade depends on it, I find a way, but it’s often at last minute and never good enough.

This is what I needed to get out–on paper or on internet. It’s not everything but it’s a lot. Means a lot to myself I can just publish words and feel like I’m making a difference in my own life.

Jan. 22, 2017. 

Eh! Nothin’ special.

I’ve literally been through this. No big deal. But something feels different–not just new classes, new friends, new blah–but something IN me feels different.

I am not the same person. I know this. I’m trying to grasp who the new me is before letting go of the old. That way I can appreciate where I’ve come from, who I’ve grown to be and see where my aspirations take me.

But I am stuck in my head all the damn time. I over think and never get anywhere. Always just wondering about what’s next but can’t get there. ‘The Next’ is behind iron bars and I’m just a poor Cinderella holding a broken broom. I’ve been told what to do, but can’t accomplish the task.

But, IN OTHER NEWS!
I’ve been lonely lately. Not like I don’t have friends, but I want a man in my life that’ll take care of me. Not over-power me, but who will emotionally understand me and sit by me when I want to cry. He would listen to me and help me evaluate my thoughts. He would help me make decisions. He would be with me, and only me. Forever and until the end.
And I would get him–all to myself. I would take care of him. Get him what he needs, what he wants and we would talk  and learn for hours. We would grow together. I would come to understand that having a man isn’t the same as wanting one.

Because wanting one isn’t getting me anywhere.

I should be waiting my turn. I have been. Patiently waiting for someone in shining armor to reveal a Our Bright Future.

Sadly, I’m just afraid this won’t happen, sometimes. I shouldn’t be frightened–everything happens for a reason right? The choices I make decide my future. Am I making bad choices?  Perhaps. But not life changing ones that will send me to jail! I’m not that bad.

But I am a bad boy. 😀