Peter

I've been waiting for words to come all day, and I don't think my emotions have entirely sorted themselves out.  I got a message this morning on Facebook. I had to check the news reports to make sure it was real. It still hasn't managed to feel real. You were 25 years old. Your car hit a retaining wall and caught fire, but we know little more than that.
Throughout the day, I've been getting hit with memories that have made me smile more than frown, and the most incredible thing about this experience to me is that just as you had this unique way of bringing together groups of friends from vastly different social circles in life, so you have been able to bring so many of us back together to celebrate the beautiful person you were, even though you have passed from this world.
I know I will never be able to capture in words all of the memories with which I am left. I'm not even sure about the exact day we met. I feel like you grew into a bigger and bigger part of my life as I began to grow into myself and open up to people who had been trying to get close to me for months or even years. You grew into such a big part of my life that I remember spending almost every single day with you and never wanting to be apart. You were the one to help me pick up the pieces when I thought my life had fallen apart, on more than one occasion, during the most difficult summer of my life. You always had this way of turning tragedy on its head. You made me feel much stronger than I thought I ever could be.
I remember how you, James, Joseph, and I were the Golden Girls, and you were Blanche, of course.
I remember finding a box of bagels and cream cheese with you on the corner across the street from the Cathedral, as well as being curled up in pain with you on the floor of the Rainbow office after deciding it was somehow a good idea to eat them.
I remember dancing with you at Kelly and Chance's wedding this summer and how we both laughed because we couldn't figure out who should lead.
I remember the random summer walks, playing board games on your floor in the blazing summer heat when you had no air conditioning.
You loved mugs. You had the best mug collection I've ever seen, and I fondly remember our trips to Goodwill where you'd buy about five or six at a time.
I remember that time where we lived together without actually living together and how we only had that apartment for about a month. It still felt like home. I think that's because we both wanted it to be so badly.
I remember that you didn't own more than one pair of shorts. You insisted on wearing long pants all year round. As Melissa said, this is because you are a hipster. But you always denied it. Proving the point.
Speaking of which, that night we decided to scale a fence and go tagging was one of the best nights of my college life. It felt like we were in Stand By Me. That was way better than studying for finals ever could have been.
I remember walking along the train tracks with you and Kelly in the summer of 2010, taking a ridiculous picture of the two of us biting the same piece of meat on a stick after already having taken so many absurd pictures before heading to Pride in the Street that same year.
I remember how you talked often about how you talked with Paul McCartney when you were in London, and I thought this was the coolest thing ever.
I remember how much you desired to find someone with whom you could start a family and have children. We both agreed you'd make an awesome dad.
You also loved hotels. And now I totally understand why.
I remember the time you carried me out of my house and into your car when I was too sick to even walk.
I remember how you always slept with a fan going because you just couldn't fall asleep otherwise.
I remember the way you used to hold me in just the right way so that the tension just melted away. You made me feel safe and loved. And you were one of the first people in my life to truly see me for the man I am. You were one of the few people whose understanding of gender made me sigh with relief. For this, you were an invaluable asset to the transgender community of Pittsburgh.
I remember how valuable an asset you were to the entire queer community of Pittsburgh. You seemed to know everyone. You've touched the lives of so many people. You always brought people together. Every time I look back at pictures of us out on the town, we are surrounded by at least a dozen loving friends. Even when you were going through your own periods of darkness, you somehow managed to spread light wherever you went. You had this way of making people happy and bringing out their love for life whenever you came near. I wonder if you knew just how important to our community you were. How many people will never be the same because you were a part of their lives.
 You helped me discover and grow into the person I am today, and you will always be a part of me. I miss you so much, and as I fight through this sea of conflicting emotions and struggle to grasp the reality of this situation, I think about what you would have wanted your closest friends and family members to do. As much as we must mourn the loss of a truly great and inspirational human being, we must also do you the honor of celebrating your life and continuing to work for the equality you believed we all deserve. It was tattooed on your hand, in plain sight, because you believed something so important should not be hidden. You were unapologetic about what you believed. And that made us all a little more comfortable with ourselves. You helped us learn to carry our spirits like you carried your tattoo. You helped us understand that we were not put on this earth to hide.
I think that is the most difficult part of all for me to handle. We were put here to live. And you embodied the idea of living life to the fullest more than anyone I knew, really. It seems cruel that the world has lost someone with such a zest for life--someone who had so much life left to live and so much more left to give. I haven't gotten all of these feelings sorted out yet, but this is what your memory has helped me learn in just the last half a day or so.
I had no idea that that dance this summer would be the last time I would ever see you. But it is truly one of the most beautiful memories with which you could have left me.
 Even though you might have laughed at me in life for saying this, I do believe you are here with me, helping me along the way in this process of grieving. I want to thank your spirit for staying with me, and I want to thank all the friends who have reached out to me with phone calls, messages, and comments just to let me know that they are here. We will help each other through this because we are family. I love you all, and this whole experience--being completely new territory for most of us who have never had to deal with the loss of a peer so early in life--has made a lot of us realize how precious these friendships really are and how valuable our time together can be. <3 p="">

the earthquake

Let there be enough stillness around me for me to recognize just how I exactly I am supposed to move because right now it feels like I am

skateboarding in an earthquake

Upside-down and with my hands tied behind my back like harry Houdini in that big glass fish tank with thousands of people just waiting

Hoping

To watch him die

Let me grasp at the straws of juice boxes

To drink from

Not to breathe from.

If you’ve ever set foot inside this room, then you've seen the things that no longer speak to me or about me but just sit there 

like the walls

watching me bleed to the beat of my own drum

and I almost think each downward stroke will shoot this pain from my system shoot this life from system shuddering 

swimming 

shimmering

splendid.

i used to hear the voices of my past just like when she'd sit by my side on the couch

all curled up 

in my world

and whisper in my ear that she'd never leave that this time it would be different that she would be different and that we would be the same

forever. 

now the voices are corpses piling up inside.

and i'm watching them rot.

but somehow i'd sooner throw away

this computer these jeans this phone these games that letter on the wall that green box under the bed with everything in it and that book and this crown and i'd stand naked in a crowd 

if it would all mean that i could hold on

to that voice

and not have to throw it away with every other lifeless piece of shit 

with which i am surrounded.

i'm going into that place now where i see every letter on every label like a disco ball reflecting the sun,

where keystrokes shoot like lightning i can trace 

across the vascular highway that leads to the place

that makes this all possible.

the good and the bad.

the place that makes me a better friend to words than people and the place

that knows that normal people don't feel the different personalities of the words 

"pleasant" and "peppy"

and that maybe they don't see pleasant as green and peppy as red and that maybe the reason i see pleasant as green has to do with how it reminds me of forests or maybe because i've been staring way too long at this stupid green jug on my desk that's supposed to hold money or pens or something but is completely useless because i already have a container for money and two for pens and three times as much shit as is comfortable in this place because well

you never know.

but this place.

this crazy place.

inside my head 

where the earthquake never stops

is where i still have you

and him

and me

through the years.

this crazy place inside my head where the earthquake never stops 

is where it all starts

when i have those days 

where i just feel

that there is something inside

that is made

of 

true

magic.

Turning Points

I'm at a turning point in my life. Actually, I most likely passed that point some time ago, but I hadn't realized it until just recently. I feel that I have fully transitioned from "growing up" to "grown up" because, for the first time in my life, I do not yearn to achieve a future state. I find myself clinging to the past more tightly than ever. Perhaps my being fearful of losing the people, places, and things that remind me of my youth is just another manifestation of a fear that I've known my entire life, which is the fear of losing my youth itself, of course.

It's a ridiculous fear. It happens to everyone. We get old. It terrifies me for two reasons now, instead of just the one that I remember being on my mind all the time. I never want to lose my ability to do anything. When I work towards a goal, I am fighting for my ability to preserve myself long into the future, though ultimately, I know this is a battle I must lose when the time comes. I don't think I have quite come to terms with that yet. But I guess that's just being 25. The other reason has only begun to haunt me more recently. I don't want to be old and alone, with no one to take care of me or even be my friend, should I ever need either one of those.

Side note: I'm ready to meet the love of my life, but I'm not ready to fall in the love of my life, if that makes any sense.

But there are other things to keep me occupied right now. And really, life isn't so bad. In the moments of pain, it really does feel like there is no way out. And I really do feel that miserable sometimes. But maybe everyone does, and even if not, a great deal of people I know and a great many more that I do not have been in my place. Much weaker people than I have made it through much harder times.

I am learning to accept the idea that I may not have all that I want, but I certainly have all that I need.
And I am working towards the things that I want, though the process is much slower than I would like it to be.

I just added therapist to the list of things I need when I get money from my new job. Shoes and driving lessons are also on that list. Not things that I want. Things that I need. Also, that therapist better be able to give me something to deal with these focus issues. I definitely just stared off into space to think about something else again. That's just not like me. And when I get so distracted that I don't even want to finish swallowing the gulp of water that is in my mouth, I know something is wrong. But then again, I blame my surroundings more than anything. We've already been through that experiment.

I don't know why it came into my head, but I'm going to write it down anyway: I need to escape. I assume that actually has more to do with this little rut I've gotten myself into than the actual place, but I have had problems separating the two.

Final thoughts. My mother always told me that I would know when I met the right person. And I did. It is hard to think that anything could ever be like that again.

Brain

Every so often, I get like this. I'm hyper. I'm all over the place. And it's late. I feel like I could do anything, like I should DO everything, but I get so distracted that I don't actually do ANYTHING. And by every so often, I mean pretty often. But then again, there are those times when I feel like absolute shit and want to kill myself, or I simply don't feel like moving out of bed, or don't make it even if my brain tries to tell me to get out of bed. And it seems like a pretty quick change from one to the other, though sometimes, I really do feel like both are happening at once. I'm pretty good at detecting patterns. But labels are, once again, the tricky part for me. (I'm actually struggling to keep my focus on just this little paragraph.)

Is this all part of having Asperger's?
Or...could I actually have bipolar disorder instead of chronic depression and what I believe to be are worsening ADHD symptoms, in addition. (I have started to believe the latter simply because my focus is completely out of whack. I have never had problems like this, though perhaps my lack of a structured environment for the last several years has taken its toll.)

The labels are pretty irrelevant when it comes to practical matters. You only treat symptoms when it comes to medications for Asperger's, and most of those symptoms just happen to occur in biploar disorder and ADHD.

I'm not currently taking the medications I have been prescribed. It's been months. One reason is that I simply can't afford them, even with my mom's insurance, which is absolute shit anyway. Another reason is that I'm not a fan of the side effects. I lose an absurd amount of weight on them. The last time I started them, I was down over ten pounds in under two weeks. And I don't have too much to work with here. (Sitting around 142 right now, but I probably went from 135 to 122, if I remember correctly.) I looked sick. And it was definitely affecting the way I worked out. I felt a little bit better mentally, but maybe I am just saying that to try to make myself feel better about not taking them. Anyway, I doubt something like Ritalin would be any better.

I have goals. I have plans. But they are very subjective right now, and that is what is difficult. There aren't very specific directions or deadlines. And I'm not quite sure what I am doing with most of it. I hate this grad school application process because I don't know if I am doing things correctly or not. Hopefully, my meetings with my letter-writers will help to clear some of that up. But I will feel stuck about everything else until I get those questions answered. I won't be able to really work on any of this until I have these answers, or at least that is how my mind feels and is telling me to operate, despite my best efforts. I have the research statement completely finished (and have had this done for quite some time), and I know it is solid, based on the feedback I've received.

I'm worried because I haven't published any papers, and I know I have forgotten some things. I'm afraid I'll be interviewed and asked a question I will not be able to answer. I'm afraid of what it will mean if I fail to get into graduate school. I honestly don't think I will be able to handle that.

I am terrified because I have no idea where my life will be in 5 years. But even if I weren't terrified about that, the fact that I'll be 30 in five years would still terrify me. So why the hell does it even matter?

I'm physically afraid all of the time, if that makes any sense. Not of particular things. It's just the physical feeling. And that is how I know fear. It just so happens I experience varying degrees of that literally every second I am awake. There are very few things that can make that feeling subside.

Old Notes

I found an old note from a former snare squad leader inside a journal I kept throughout my freshman year of college. In addition to a little homework assignment, the note ended with a little piece of advice at the bottom:

Trust.
Faith.
Fuck 'em.

Breathe

Meditation for me is about reminding myself to breathe. About reminding myself to allow myself to breathe. About taking in each breath and letting it nourish my starving cells, and about letting each exhalation whisk away that which is nothing short of poisonous. I inhale and feel the resistance of a body struggling to survive an invisible pain. My lungs push against each inward breath as if it to refuse it, like children determined to get their way. But I am still here. I am still breathing, which must mean I am stronger than all of this. But it is difficult to be strong in a way that no one can see. It is difficult to allow the air to flow freely when you know so many others would have severed its passages. I sometimes lose the words for which I have been searching just to keep this rhythm going. Like fireflies.

I look at the words I have written on paper, today and over time, seeing their curves disappear long before I even noticed mine. Words about life and love written before I knew anything about either. Words. Not breaths. And I notice through all the stories of pain, and of passion, and of promises to myself written on post-it notes along the way, that life is so much easier to live in words than in breaths. It is easier to live eternally than to allow yourself to float towards the sun on the wings of your mortality.

I have been watching the wax drip. And I have been missing all the light permits me to see.

I want to be able to have breaths without counting them.
I want to be happy with a life that cannot be measured.

I may be capable of inhalation and exhalation.
But I have lost the ability to breathe.

I am scared, always.

Car Accident (Not Mine, But Still Mine)

Well, I'm back from my walk a little bit earlier than expected. As I went to turn the corner by my house, I noticed headlights coming at me, which is rather typical for these late-night excursions of mine. But something was different. I stopped. They weren't moving. The car was upside-down. I ran up the street, and as I was running I saw a shirtless man running out of his house across the street, and a young girl (probably my age or slightly younger), sitting on the curb crying. He made the call, and I asked the standard questions. There was not a scratch on her, yet this car had landed on its roof, driver-side first. After the initial questions, I of course responded, "Thank God you are alright." And she said, "No. Fuck me. Thank God I didn't hurt anyone else." And at that point, I realized that if I had left my house twenty or thirty seconds earlier, that car would have hit me. All of this plus the fact that I decided to walk out there tonight for no reason, in the cold, at this exact moment is making my head spin and my heart pound. I came back to my house after speaking briefly with one of the responding officers to tell my mother what had happened. And she said to me, "Maybe it wasn't for no reason then."

As much as I have been lost in my own depression lately, I am so lucky to be here at this very moment, as is this young woman. I am so proud to know that I am the kind of person who will run up the street, ready to pull someone out of a car if the situation called for it (I'm a certified EMT, so I do know when it does and does not, so please don't harass me about that!) I may not always have my shit together, but now I know for sure, when the situation is life-or-death, what kind of person I will be. And I think this is the closest to knowing your true self that you can possibly get.

Something Cute From Paper-Gender Math

I am thinking of a gender between one and three
An algebraic mosaic of x and y like sex
and why
do I write stories of my life between the valleys of my veins
Carve the dreams across my body
Starve the soul only a mirror can love
A numerator standing stop a vinculum of uncertainty with nothing underneath,
undefined and falling
searching for the common denominator that binds me to the x's I can never see
To the y's I can never know
Negative me plus or minus the square root of every lie I've ever told and ever smile I've ever faked
and every excuse I haven't even thought to make
I'm thinking of a gender between one and me
That isn't just a symbol of values long forgotten
A gender with ups and downs
Curves and swerves like the sine wave
that was my very first road
into the blankness of queer.
Every calculation became a question with two answers
Equally valid and to an equation
I can't even remember
Like the calculus I learned to forget
when they asked me to integrate. I laughed
and lived
and left the note in a bible in a motel six
in a town that couldn't even count that high
The hated (per)mutated masterpiece
that is the variable I.
Imaginary and unwilling to accept my fate,
I have taken to the Cartesian sea,
hoping to one day drift right back to the origin
where x and y meant nothing and it was all the same to me my mom and the boys next door.
Up the slope I go,
the letter m.
Acceleration made flesh.
A force to be reckoned with given enough distance
and time.

Worth

Even when I make the attempt to make plans, I can't complete them. And I'm not the kind of friend someone would be willing to drive an hour and a half to pick up. Hell, I'm not the kind of friend that anybody even wants to ask to do something when they live a mile away. I can't blame people for not wanting to be around me when I am like this, but to be honest, most people would never know if they were to interact with me in person. I don't share this part of myself with most people anymore. No one cares about anyone else's troubles, not really. When things are going great, everyone wants to be around me. But when I really need people, I am alone. And the only people who care enough are nowhere near me. I hate the way I sound. I hate what I have to look forward to when I wake up, and it all hits me that very second I open my eyes. And it never leaves. I can't shower without being miserable. I can barely eat. I can't walk ten feet from the door without feeling it. It's always there, and no amount of transient happiness can make it go away. It often physically hurts to be awake. But for me, emotions and physical sensations are hard to tease apart anyway.

I can't just drive to get away. Fuck, I can't even drive to go hang out with people who are going to be close to me tonight. And I would hate to ask my family because it's just too much. So once again, I'm at a point in my life and location in space where I can do absolutely nothing for myself. I've become just another burden to my family. And to myself. I don't like anything about me right now. This isn't who I am. When I was in Annapolis, I found myself again and really started loving who I was and what I could be. I didn't necessarily even need to be doing things radically different from what I am doing now. (But there are drastic differences...) But it's the feeling I had while doing them. The feeling I had just being there and being a part of something, and being able to feel that while being all by myself. Now, I can again be surrounded by people and feel all alone. It doesn't even matter. Sometimes I can't even feel connected to my own family and can barely feel connected to myself. There isn't much that I have that can numb me. Except sleep.

It is agony to be awake. Breathing hurts. Existing like this and not being able to do a fucking thing about it. I can't do this. I really can't handle this. I feel that if I am here for much longer, I will lose myself entirely. I was here for a year the last time, but I don't think I will be able to do that again. I don't know how many times I have to say over and over again that I can't do this. But that doesn't matter. I can't be helped by anyone or anything. I can't even function enough to do what I need to do to get out of this  mess, and there are no jobs around here for anyone like me. There are barely any to begin with, but retail literally made me want to kill myself, and I ended up cutting myself for the first time in my life because I could not process or handle anything that was going on in my life.

I almost feel that I am at the opposite end of the spectrum from that period of time. I had no room for anything but the job, and I lost myself because of it. Now, I have no room for anything but my current self, which is comprised mainly of walking misery. I need an escape from myself because I can't fucking stand this person who does not feel like me. I have spent so much of the last year and some months as this person who is not me. Annapolis gave me a chance to be myself again and rediscover what I love in this world. And having had that, and then having had it taken away, makes this so much worse than it was before. I don't want to be doomed to this forever, but I feel like my inability to function/focus is going to prevent me from getting anywhere.

Nobody here cares enough to ask me to do anything, or even respond when I ask them to do things, proving my lack of connection. And as this person, I don't feel like I will be able to connect. There is something about the totality of this experience that makes me incapable of being myself. I feel like I am watching myself die, and all I want to do is pull the plug.

Before I left, I had hope that things could be different. Now I have none because there is no way for me to make them any different. If I had the money, I'd leave today and start making changes. Or maybe I'd stay and get some more to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I am more stuck than I have ever been. I want to ask for help from the people that I assume care about me, but I am afraid of running in to the same problem I had three weeks ago. How the fuck does that amount of time feel like an eternity? How is possible to fall so far from where you were and where you want to be in 21 days?

I want this part of the story to be over. But I worry so much that it will be the whole story. I expect life to be challenging, even hard sometimes. But if it is this hard, every minute of every day, I don't want any part of it. The only thing that is keeping me alive right now is my mother's love. She is the only person, at this moment, to whom I feel connected. She makes me feel human. And I would hate for her to think it was her fault if I were to do something to myself. I don't want her to blame herself for anything else that her children have done.

I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I like who I am. But the problem is that I am not myself right now. And whoever it is that I am right now--that's the person I don't like. And I don't like my life situation. I feel that has brought about this change in me. I know that I absolutely need to be able to function on my own in order to feel like myself. But I am approaching the point where I will stop caring completely, and I will just sit here and waste away, both physically and mentally. How many fucking times do I have to do this to myself, and why do I feel so powerless?

Over and over again, this seems to be the only story I can tell. I just want to be able to breathe again and to see things for what they really are. And I don't want to believe that THIS is the way they really are. I want to experience GOOD again.

But I'll keep saying I'm okay. I'll keep lying and putting on that smile and telling other people that they shouldn't give up. I'm hoping for a fucking miracle that just isn't going to happen. I can't do this. And the fact that I have to keep saying that all the time means that I have never been able to. I started out doing just fine here, and I don't know why. And so I don't know how to get back to that. But I have to get back to that in order to move forward.

This isn't even worth posting to me. But I suppose I will do it anyway. There isn't anything of value in what I have written, similar to how there is nothing of value in what I have been doing. This life is worthless--this one I am forced to live. And I want the one that means something to me.

Obvious Update

In an effort to normalize my sleep schedule, I realized that I definitely overdid it waking up 16 hours later in essentially the same predicament since it was 6:00 PM. I managed to get a few more hours in the middle of the night, so I almost feel like a normal human being...but then I remember everything else that's going on, and sleep seems to be the only escape I have from this constant tightness in my core, a pressure in my stomach and chest that is both maddening and unrelenting. I cannot believe things have spiraled downward so quickly. In just two weeks, I feel like I have fallen further than I ever have before. At least before I left, I had hope. I have some goals for the future, but it is hard to focus on them right now. As afraid as I am of the passage of time, I sometimes wish I could wake up one year from now so that I could move away and start school. I only see my family, and while I love them, I cannot live like this. I feel so isolated. And I fear that will never change, permanently. I thought Annapolis was going to give me the start I needed. I thought it was my chance to move forward. But I was back here before I could figure out what was even happening.

I want to cry and scream, every single minute that I am awake.
I haven't seen the sun in 40 hours or so.
I do not think I can do this for much longer, even if I do manage to find some menial job to pass the hours away.

Nibble

It's funny how much I change when I am unable to be a part of something bigger than myself.

More About Home

Sometimes you want to ignore the little things in life that remind you of what you need to do, because what you want to do is putting so much pressure on you. There was the wedding and then TransPride and my wanting to be wrapped in the arms of the city that gave me life, but it was the smallest of things that brought me to tears. He noticed the city lights shining brightly through a gap in the trees and gasped, "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." And on my lips the words sat in silence, "I know." After getting lost and ending up in the exact opposite place we needed to be, I took him to the overlook on Mount Washington. He took a picture. I didn't need to. I could never forget that sight, or how it seemed so much bigger and scarier when I had first visited eight years ago. I took in the scene as slowly as I could and let it wash over my body like a warm bath, little memories rising up and popping like bubbles in the tub. And then I could hold back no longer. I cried as softly as I could and muttered so only my own ears could share the secret: "I am home."

Flash two weeks into the future. I am sitting in the still unoccupied massage room of the newly opened gym at which I had begun working, crouched over my dying cell phone as I attempt to charge and talk at the same time. She didn't answer. She didn't answer again. She was talking to her other son, which I had not known until she called me back a few seconds after receiving a simple text: "It's important." I unleashed tears. And fears. And everything that I had been fighting the last few days. It was settled in just a few minutes. And I had made the decision myself. She would not tell me what to do. She did not tell me what I should do. She waited for me to utter the words myself: "I want to come home." So I packed up my things and made my coworkers aware of the situation, and as I stooped and slung my bag over my shoulder to begin the longest ten-minute walk of my life, a key fell to the floor. The sticker from Lowe's hadn't even been removed. I hadn't seen this key in almost a year. It was the key to the front door of the very first place I called home.

Progress

I've said before that it may be time to retire this particular blog, or rename it, or do something to change how it appears since it doesn't quite carry the same meaning it used to. But for now, when I need a place to write, and I need to be quick about it, this seems to be the best I can do. I am not really the same person I was when I started. This weekend helped me to realize just how much has changed about my circumstances, about my friends, and about me.

I feel duller somehow than I used to. I used to feel that there was something magical about my life, walking around with confidence that may or may not have had any basis in reality. These days, I still have confidence, but it's based on what I have done, not what I am. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

I've started to feel older. I am not as interested in the craziness, and I am definitely not able to mentally or physically deal with the constant drinking and partying anymore. The kind of companionship I desire is different, and I'm not always looking for that next big chance for me to get wasted and make an ass of myself. It's not that I don't like to enjoy myself--just that what I find enjoyable has changed.

I can't see the complete picture yet. I am doing what I need to do to get to a next step in my life that is in itself uncertain. I would like to be at a place where I no longer have to play catch up. I would like to start building my future from a comfortable spot, but I do not know if I will ever have that chance. I may be feeling regret because I did pass up the opportunity to live that comfortable life. I hope I will create a better opportunity that will not leave me feeling as drained, but I will never know. I would like to be able to stop thinking about every hypothetical that comes to mind. I need a better mental filter, or at the very least, a better coping mechanism.

Saturday was hard for me in so many ways, some of which are more difficult to articulate than others. In addition to the obvious, it was the first wedding of a friend I have been to, and while I do hope it won't be the last, it too reminded me of things that no longer exists. Still, seeing so many old friends in the same place, and being able to dance with them all again...It made me feel like I was in the company of family again. I feel like the kid in Stand By Me who finally recognizes that he will never have friends like the ones he did when he was twelve. I may never have friends like the ones I did in Pittsburgh. While I have met some exceptional people down here, I am not quite able to open myself up, and I don't know when I'll be able to. I don't know if it is even possible anymore.

I feel loved and accepted. I am in the company of friends and family. I have the chance at making real money and fixing my financial situation, and I have solid plans about going to graduate school. Yet, something is still missing. And it was the same thing that was missing in Wilkes-Barre. I want to be able to share myself with someone again. I want to feel love. I feel like I am a better person because whenever I have been in a successful relationship, the other person and I have been able to connect in a way that makes me feel connected to the rest of the world too. I feel like I am more a part of the same experience as everyone else when I am with someone I love. But I don't exactly know how to go about finding love. I'm not desperate. I'm not in dire need of saving. I don't have any need to open up to anyone about problems I have been having, and even if I did, I can't get myself to do it. The person who can bring down this wall will be the one. Some people have managed to create cracks here and there, but they quickly seal themselves. My soul will know, but it is a painful game to play, and I do not know if I should be patient and let something fall into place or if I should be actively seeking this person with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. I'm leaning away from the latter because I have never been able to make that work.

I've also come to realize something else. I am attracted to men, and women, and all sorts of differently-gendered people. But when I really think about what would make me feel happy and fulfilled, I see myself with a woman--a woman who can float between femme and butch with grace. A tomboy with an effeminate side who can just as easily turn heads in Dockers as in a dress. Someone who can make each and every part of me feel like it is loved and cared for, and someone for whom I am more than a charity case who needs the collective pity of society.

When I find you, I will love you in ways you have never known possible. I will give myself to you after years of hiding that self behind a wall built from the fear of loneliness, helplessness, and depression. I will be able to give myself to you fully, as I haven't been able to do in so many years that I barely remember what it feels like to be human. Love is not safe. And maybe this is why I have not made progress.

I want nothing more than to be able to share myself with those closest to me. And with the rest of the world. I do not know what can help me reach this goal.

I have spent so much more time these days focusing on the kind of partner I want to be than on the kind of partner I want for myself. The right person will help bring out this person in me. Maybe I'm a little late in figuring this one out.

I may not feel better after writing this, but I feel that I have at least learned something. And that is progress.

Post-Pride Thoughts

So I've been in Annapolis for slightly longer than two weeks, with Capital Pride being this past weekend. For some reason I feel like I have been here much longer than that. Maybe it's the same reason I feel like I have known so many of the new people in my life for years. I feel at home. I feel like I will be able to make this place a home for myself--establish myself in a way that I've never been able to do before.

 For the first four or five days, I had a pretty difficult time adjusting. I felt sure that I would lose the ability to plan out my life and get myself to the gym and to job interviews and to potential shows, and the only thing I could think about at all was how much I missed my family and how much of their lives I would be missing. I'm not exactly sure what happened to change my outlook. I began to focus more on myself and what I had rather than others and what I would be missing. As much as I will always miss my family when I am away from them, I cannot live my life like I'm watching a movie. I've been sitting by watching others experience happiness by living their lives to the fullest. I love my family. We have become so close in this past year alone, and that is something that I never want to lose. If I can, I'd like to see them at least once a month. My outlook has changed quite a bit since college, as I am starting to more fully grasp the concept of my own mortality and theirs. It is hard to imagine life without them, impossible to envision never getting to be with them again. But that day will come, and I have no idea if that will be twenty years from now or forty or even tomorrow. I also don't know how I will be able to handle their getting old. It will only remind me that it eventually happens to everyone, even me, fucking Peter Pan.
Anyway, the obsessive thoughts about what they were doing and how I could not be a part of those experiences subsided and made room for thoughts about my own present and future. I have found a new gym and am taking full advantage of it, and I have found one job already working at a gym that hasn't even opened yet. Even though I don't have much fitness sales experience, the owner was willing to give me the opportunity because my passion is something that can't be faked. That and apparently I sound great on the phone. I may also get the opportunity to help teach kids' classes, and I'll be able to shadow the trainers there as well, hopefully allowing me to get my certification pretty soon. I've had more interviews and job offers in the last two weeks than I have in two years trying to get jobs after college. I was actually able to turn down a job today. I hate retail and never want to do it again, so I declined the interview for Vitamin Shoppe because I know how miserable that makes me. I don't have to settle. And that makes me feel amazing. Just having the ability to make that choice is uplifting and makes me feel much less stuck.
Part of the problem with Wilkes-Barre is that it made me feel like I would be exactly where I was for the rest of my life, and not just in the physical sense. Even though I love this place and feel at home, I feel like there is so much promise in my life. I feel like big things can come my way. I feel like I am in control of making them happen. I feel like I am in control. It may not be perfect, but I have waited so long to feel like that, even just a little. I am making things happen for myself, which means I CAN make things happen for myself. I'm trying to enjoy it without thinking too much, but of course, that never works out very well for me. So I am thinking.
I am thinking about all the ways in which I can live my life. And it is hard to make a decision about what I want to do for the rest of my life. I miss Neuroscience, but Public Health will probably provide more job opportunities that can actually be useful to the community. And with any luck, I will get to combine my passion for both of these fields at some point. But now comes the hard part: Where do I apply? Do I stay in this area or try to get back to Pittsburgh? Do people in Pittsburgh even care enough anymore? I'm sure some do, but I am also sure that some people expect and hope that they will never see me again. A phone call every now and then would be nice. Maybe even a text that lets me know that someone still cares. But even if they don't, I have options.

Pride is different here. It was so much bigger. The parade was much longer, and people seemed much more excited about it. The festival itself was similar, but again, it was much bigger. I absolutely loved being a part of that parade. I loved getting to meet Ken Vegas, learning that he's just a real person--albeit an extremely talented one--and hopefully sparking a new friendship with someone just as interesting in the geeky kind of shit that I am. I loved that people were cheering for us and taking pictures--loved dancing in the street to the music blaring out of a speaker propped up in the back of a little red car with a big golden crown on top of it. I loved being able to provide that energy for people. I loved seeing the look on their faces when I jumped over three feet in the air...Everything about that day and the following night at the DC Kings' show (let's not even talk about the Saturday show), where I truly felt like a member of the family, even though I am not officially part of the troupe yet. This is how we should be as entertainers. No matter where we or from or what style we bring to the stage, we are family, and we all have at least that in common, if not more. I really felt that sense of brotherhood again, and if I could cry about anything that actually mattered, I'd be bawling right now. That is what I miss most about the HMH we started in 2010. Watching it turn sour hurt me so much. It was like losing a child. Maybe more like losing myself. Because I did lose myself to that. I lost what I had left of me, which wasn't much at the time. And when I tried to save myself, it only backfired. I am glad to see that things are finally starting to get back to the way they used to be.
Slight topic shift: Being single at pride is completely different than being with someone at pride. I didn't notice this much last year since I had other things on my mind. Last night, I realized that I may not know how to approach a relationship in a healthy way. I have only ever been a part of relationships where I have felt that I needed that other person to complete me. Even without being dependent on the other person, I would always lose myself in the relationship. I'd fall in love with the other person and his or her passions. I'd be so involved in them and us that I'd forget all about me. I've been in long-term relationships for a good majority of my adult life, and it's been almost a year and a half since I have not been. I am finding myself again. I am learning what it is that I love when I am all by myself. I am learning what makes me happy. I'm really learning how to live all alone for the rest of my life and still feel fulfilled. I still cannot shake that feeling of something being missing, but it is much less pressing than it has been. The problem is that now that I don't NEED anyone (or now that I am at least very close to that point), I am not sure how to get close to someone. I can't make myself vulnerable enough. I cannot find a way to bring down the wall. I don't know what I should be looking for in someone else either. And I still fear that no one will be able to handle me at my worst. I don't want anyone to have to, but I know that being with someone means that that someone will eventually get to know my darker side. Maybe I have to become more comfortable with that before I can move into the relationship arena.

Instead of trying to avoid how i feel by playing mindless games, let me try to wrtie aboutnmy feelings while i am actually experiencing them. Im upset. I have been driven to the edge several times today, about to explode from the frustration and then rage building inside. I am incapable of accessing parts of my own emotional experience. But it is not as if i am not trying. Resources are still being allocated to that project while i am trying to go about my day, and my head cannot keep up with everything. And when something happens to add to my emotional frustration, even if the experience isnt particularly emotional, everything that is in the corners of my mind gets brought to the front. It seems i have to always feel everything at once before it can all be sorted out, like dumping s box of legos on the table. I am never really able to come back to my center or stay there for very long. Right now, i feel the need to do everything but i just cant seem to do anything. Fear or lack of motivation will inhibit me, and i often dont even know what it is i fear or think i cannot do. I dont always know what is going on inside, and it bothers me when people think i am lying to them when i give this answer or that there must be something more to it. There probably is, but your guess is often as good as mine.

I think i might be afraid that i will let myself fall into bad habits again. I might be afraid that i wont function very well and that people will just let me fall deeper and deeper into that trap until i have to come back again. I KNOW that i can. But i FEEL like i cannot. I am starting to dwell on everything.

Maybe i dont want to see other people fall into bad habits as well. I am once again unable to finish because i cannot find a quiet place to be alone ever. That is something that makes me angry and i know it really shouldnt. I cannot control how i feel and i almost feel like i should not have to every second of every day.

I need time away from distractions. I need time to just exist and not have to constantly worry about fulfilling someone else's expectations. I cannot live my life for someone else if i have not chosen that person. It is not that i am stubborn or that i lack the will. I just cannot do it.

I need to be Able to do something that fulfills me. Gives me a reason.
And i am doing what i need to do to get there. But things move so slowly. It almost feels like they are moving backwards at times.

I want to be able to sat everything i want. But now i know i cant, and i feel like that bothers me too. I might need to start fresh. Maybe this outlet has outlived its usefulness.

That statement really has me thinking now.
i need a cabin in the woods somewhere.

Something else about nationals.

"i feel like i really made an impression on people. and i learned something myself. what i got out of this was way more important than winning. in fact, winning may have even overshadowed how important this lesson was for me to learn, so maybe there is a reason for the way things turned out."

Things That Are Making Me Happy

Today, my mother and I were talking about my job opportunity in Pittsburgh, and she told me that I might as well take classes while I am working as a CNA because they are always looking for male nurses. And she didn't think twice about saying that, with no tone of awkwardness in her voice.

Out of the many truly spectacular comments I got at nationals, one of my favorites was this: "You could enter a real boy pageant. And win. Everything about you just reads nothing but 'man.'"

Another was "I have NEVER seen anything like that before. Please keep doing what you are doing."

Even though I feel like I am not ready at all to move and that I will miss everyone and won't be able to handle it, I may be going back to Pittsburgh very, very soon. An opportunity has come my way, and I am not afraid. I know I can handle this. I handled nationals when I thought I could not. And I know I can handle this. This thing called my life.

There are SO MANY things to do.

DC pride? Big drag king beach tour? Judging pageants now?
Grad school?

The best response ever to my request for a letter of recommendation: "Boom!! That's fucking awesome!"

I think things are starting to align. And the only thing that had to change was my confidence level. Everything may be exactly the same, but it all feels new and different.

I might actually be looking forward to some part of my life and not feeling overwhelmed.

This is going to be a great summer. FINALLY.

Long shot

Just when I didn't think anything else could go wrong, it did. I've been working on this shit for six months. I've spent almost all of my free time and money on it. And now that I may not be able to go, four days before the competition, I feel at such a loss. I haven't felt disappointment like this in a long time. I can remember exactly when that last time was, and I can hear their voices in my head telling me that I would never be able to do it. My reason for persevering is to prove that I can. I want to prove it to myself more than anything, but it would be nice to silence the voices in my head that have been chirping away at me for years telling me that someone like me will never be able to succeed to any great degree, especially in the entertainment industry. I know you were wrong then, and you are just as wrong now. I don't want this to be the end of this journey for me. I don't want to have worked this hard just to not even be able to show up. This is too important for me to just let go and go home, even though that would be the easy thing to do. It would be the most comfortable thing too. I wouldn't have to worry about having a meltdown or making a fool of myself. I wouldn't have to worry about having to go it alone. I wouldn't have to worry about forgetting how to talk to important people. I wouldn't have to be afraid of proving them right. I am bigger than all of the bad things that happen to me. It doesn't look good right now, but the only thing I can do is trust that the right thing will happen in the end, and I will end up where I need to be. I am not even able to cry. I can't scream. It is all just held inside of me. But it's not the same as before. It's not that getting-ready-to-explode-out-of-your-skin feeling. It's fuel burning inside of me. But I need to learn how to control the flame. I will work until the very last hour. Why would I operate under the assumption that I am going to fail? I can do this. I need to do this. And I will do this.

Solo

I need to write before I start working on the things that I was supposed to have started either some time last night or earlier today. I don't even know how to describe what happened, let alone do it without getting myself upset all over again. Everything has gone wrong from the very beginning. And this doesn't make me feel very good about the upcoming weekend. I love how it's probably the most important weekend of the year for me, and that there are a few people who actually enjoy seeing me this way. Thanks for letting me know that you would rather lie in your bed all day than come pick me up when I really needed your help. I feel so fucking great about myself. If you were the only person that had managed to show how little they cared this weekend, I'd probably be okay with it since you did this all the time when I lived here anyway. I don't know how I feel about coming back now that all this has happened. Sometimes it feels like everything is okay. I love the city itself. But if it's going to be worse than being at home, why would I want to come back?
Is it better to be completely fucking alone or to have friends like this? Should I shut myself away in a town with no hope or let myself get abused just to feel a few minutes of happiness every now and then when someone thinks enough of me to ask me to do something?
I can't even count how many people only talk to me when they need something from me. And that's when they act like they care. And it hurts because I am literally fooled by this EVERY TIME.
I trust people, and this is probably my worst quality.
My willingness to trust has ruined my life more than once. And it continues to hurt me every time I need to rely on someone else. Every time I really think I have people I can count on, I am reminded that I am the only person who cares enough to want to do something for me. I am the only person that I matter to, and that's getting harder and harder for me. The people I thought were my closest friends don't really care, it seems. And then there are people I barely know who would give me the shirts off their backs if I really needed them. And this makes me feel worse as well. Have I just picked shitty friends? Or do people just become this way toward me after they have gotten close to me?
I am not going to be bitter and refuse to help you when you need me. And that just means I am going to get hurt yet again. I don't even want to bring it up because there's nothing that's going to change. And I told my mom that I either have these friends or no friends.
Maybe it doesn't matter where the fuck I go. I'll probably be this lonely and upset wherever I end up. I'll probably just hide away wherever I go.
There is nothing happening in my life to indicate that anything will get any better for me. Time doesn't change things. Doing things changes things. And I am doing nothing. I am going nowhere. And I am alone. And I have felt this way for so long that I don't know how to feel any other way. I don't have that one person that I can count on to come rushing by with a strawberry milkshake when I am feeling down. I don't have that person that I can call at four in the morning when I can't sleep. I haven't known what it's like to have a real friend in years. And I am starting to think that it might have been better to never have known. Didn't have a problem when I was a little kid because I didn't know what having friends really meant. I was fine being by myself and thought that's what everyone did.
Now, I just feel like shit ALL THE TIME.
Nothing is helping. I haven't felt okay in like two years. I have some good days. But most of the time, I'm unhappy. And not just unhappy. I wake up and already want it to be over. Most days, I have to convince myself to stay alive. And I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm going to end up doing something stupid. Not killing myself. I'm not there yet, but I've been down that road before. But I mean something that might kill me in the end anyway. I could quit my job and run away. That's been on my mind for some time now. Just to leave one day and figure out how to get my stuff after the fact. I don't even care where I end up anymore. If I'm alone in my head, I might as well be alone in person because then I wouldn't have to fight with myself trying to be okay with people.
My head has been spinning all day. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm sweating, and it's hard to breathe. It's fine when this happens in an instant when we feel like something bad is going to happen. Like how you feel like when you almost fall down the stairs. But imagine that feeling for hours or even WEEKS at a time. Then YEARS. Imagine living your fucking life in that state and trying desperately your whole like to get away from that feeling. It's impossible anymore. And I don't know how anyone could want to live like this.
There is a voice inside my head that tells me that I don't have a choice in the matter.
But there is another voice that is much darker and scarier. And it knows that I do.
I have wanted to scream and cry about everything all day. And nothing is happening. I feel like I am going to explode soon. And that is not an exaggeration. If you could envision everything inside of you burning and swelling up, putting pressure on every part of your body. Making you twitch in ways that you can't control. Making you unable to control any reaction you have without causing you even more physical and mental pain. That's what it is like. On a good day.
And it's never going to change.
I used to think I'd outgrow this. But I am terribly depressed by the fact that I will always be this way. And always being this way is what is going to cause me to be alone forever. And it makes me feel like I deserve everything that happens to me and more. Like it's all my fault anyway. And that's exactly what everyone else wants me to feel because no one wants to take responsibility for any pain that they have caused another person. Except the ones who enjoy it.
I feel terrible in every way that you can. And after a few years of this, it's become clear that nothing and no one can help me. I'll either figure it out on my own or I will not. And I don't exactly have the best track record for that. I'm smart enough to know when I have reached the point of no return. It was just too much. All of my life has just been too much for me to handle without getting fucked up beyond salvation. I don't know how. But I lost. And I am still losing this battle. I wish it would take me instead of my having to make that decision. Either way, everyone will say it is my fault.
Everyone will say that I had everything and there was no reason.
But it doesn't matter what you have when you feel like you have absolutely nothing, and the only thing you can think about is how you used to have a good life.
I see that good life being lived by someone else. Multiple people most of the time. I can't say much more.
I'm never going to be okay again.
I feel older than I ever have. And more helpless.
I want to scream about how unfair this is. But that doesn't matter. Fairness doesn't exist. And even if it were considered fair, I probably deserve it or should have at least expected it. I don't know why I continue to be surprised that everything about my life sucks. I don't know why I have to keep holding on to the idea that maybe someday I'm going to be okay. No one can prove to me that anything will get better, and I am sick of people telling me that it just will. It won't. Things don't get better if you don't fucking do anything about them. People don't get better unless they know how. And I don't. There are so many more things wrong with me than there are right these days. And I don't feel like putting on a mask for everyone else. I don't feel like going in to do anything for anyone when I feel like this. I don't care about anyone else right in this moment because all I want to do is survive. And it's even hard to care about me. To fight the voice that wants me to give up. It makes the most sense to give up. It's so much more painful to carry on and I don't even know if it will be worth it.
I just fucking can't do this.

Getting some thoughts out

Racism is not funny to me. And i am not sorry. There is no reason to laugh when your elder son's response to his lifting partner's nazi tattoos is "it keeps the riff raff away." How do you even laugh at that as a human being, let alone a parent? Isn't that one of those things that should concern you? I don't even say anything these days. It doesn't seem worth it when you know nothing is going to change. I just did not need to hear any of this on my way home. Or my father pretending that he understood anything that my brother was saying about physics. And of course it didn't matter what i said. It never does. He just keeps going on about what my brother said as if i never even said anything. I have been learning not to care that i am the less important child. The one who is somehow always wrong. It is much harder to deal with being told i need to be more like my brother, who has been in prison for 8 years and pretty much hates everyone who isn't a straight, white, Catholic male.

Racism is not funny. And femininity is not weak. It took me a long time to learn both of those, but sadly it took longer to learn the latter. So many people are taught that being feminine equates with being weak that even some who would consider themselves "strong women" find themselves believing it. They complain about feminine women. They call them useless and weak. Weakness is what is weak. You need to learn the difference. On the same note, it is a shame that some strong women feel pressured into subduing some aspects of femininity in order to maintain that reputation of strength. It is a shame that some feminine women are similarly afraid to be strong. It is a shame that men cannot express feminine attributes without having their manhood questioned. It is painful to watch parents reinforce these stereotypes over and over again. It is painful to watch some of my friends act them out. It is the same play over and over again. And i do not know how people can be this blind.

I am enraged when i hear stories about how a man who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year got through high school and then college by playing sports and the. Having other people write his papers for him. And this man is in charge of people like me. People who actually kind of gave a shit. It makes me upset to learn that a classmate of mine who got straight C's has a research job at the school from which i graduated and that i have been turned down by literally over one hundred similar positions. What the hell have i done wrong with my life? Where is the justice in any of this, and who is making these decisions? When i see how things have played out so far, it makes me want to give up completely. I honestly did all the right things. And it did not work for me. And now i feel that i can do nothing right.

I feel that i am becoming comfortable in this state of dependence, and i am frightened by it. I know i need to leave here before the year is out. It has been a year already, and my self-sufficiency has decreased. I am more afraid to venture out on my own or take any risks. I am constantly seeking help from other people instead of making my own decisions. I need to go back to my real home. It is starting to feel like a prison here again. This has nothing to do with my family. Or my mother, i should say. I am so grateful for the time we have had and that is one thing i absolutely do not want to lose. I will miss seeing her every day and doing things with her. I will miss the few friends i have made here, and i will miss my nephew. I will miss the studio. I will miss the security of this house. But i cannot stay if i ever hope to get out of this rut. I want my own life and my own family. I want to be something more. I don't hate myself. But i would hate to be the same self for the rest of my life.

I do not feel that i am able to concentrate on what needs to be done. And that has a lot to do with never being by myself. I literally never get the opportunity to just be alone and work it out. Any time there is another presence here, a part of me is on guard, and i am not relaxed. I am not able to be at my best, and over time, that really adds up. I need a release. I need to just fucking find a cabin in the woods.

Scranton is celebrating this weekend. And i do not want to be anywhere near that. But i don't really fancy being around a 55 year old man who does the same thing twice a week (at least it isnt every night like it used to be, if you want to side with my mother). Maybe if you stopped drinking an entire case by yourself every few days, stopped spending all that money every week on comic books, and did anything other than look at toy prices online and play on facebook, you would have a job. I really dont mean to sound as angry as i do about it. I know he used to work hard at his job. And he used to be very good at it. But nearly a year of sitting around waiting for the perfect job has not been good for him. I see the similarity with my situation and it scares me. I do not want to become anything like him. I feel sorry for him in some ways, but that is not something he will understand. But he also doesnt take kindly to the truth. Do you think i wanted to work at best buy? Really? I am doing what i have to do. I needed any job at all, and we are approaching that point. All that time we were worried about losing the house, and you both just kept thinking you had time. That everything would be okay. When he gets a job. When he gets a job. And i would ask what if he doesnt? And the only answer you could give was that he has to. You cant lose 40,000 dollars a year-soon to be 60,000 when the unemployment runs out next month--and live the same life. There are so many people on unemployment now who truly need the money to survive. And so many people who are denied or cannot get it for whatever reason. And it all just does not make sense to me. I wish i could understand. I dont understand very much about people anymore.

I saw a little girl reading a book today. I wanted to hug her mother. I seriously think this might have been the first child i have witnessed reading in over a year. Most of them are just playing games on an ipad when i see them. On a related note, i wanted to buy a magazine today but i could not afford it with what i had on me. This makes me sad.

I am still sick and my head hurts. I almost lost my job. I have had a fever for four days straight, and i could barely stand yesterday. I was shaking and had to support myself by leaning against the wall by the register all day. I cannot call ofd because i cannot get a doctor's note to make up for the absence. And if i wanted to urgent care i would have pay for the cab ride there and back and then the fee there as well. Just for them to tell me what i already know. That i am severely ill and should not go to work. But why give me full time when you already have me working 38 hours a week at part time and dont need to give me insurance or sick days or vacation? When you know i cant quit because there is nothing else i can do here?

Working ten or more days straight sometimes. For 300 dollars a week at most. At a job that already causes me extreme anxiety and nearly has me on the floor screaming at least twice a day. In an area where everyone seems to have evolved from the shallow end of the gene pool. Where i know it really doesnt get that much better here. I dont know how much more i can take. I know i am worth more than this. And i dont know what to do to make things happen. What did i do to make any of this happen?

It might be time to do more productive things.

making room

i am sad that i cannot be there with you. but i am happy there is someone who can be.

anyway, today is my father's birthday.
i wonder when in my life i will finally start to think of my parents as old. i just don't see it.

there's a blizzard happening too. but it doesn't mean what it used to. blizzards used to me no responsibilities for at least a few days. maybe even a week. now it just means the bottoms of all my pants get wet and everyone drives like an idiot.

i wonder what the hell i am going to do. not just about my life. about everything. and i wonder this all the time.

i'm not sure if i'm sober or drunk or somewhere in between.

some things never lose their potency, no matter how much time has passed. love's memories have no half-life.
but my how things have changed.

i wonder what they think when they think of me. all of them.
i wonder if it's the same as what i think. what we used to think.

this is the year that i turn 25. and that is slightly terrifying. quarter century. almost old.
already old, in the eyes of some.

i can tell i'm not thinking in a way that makes a lot of sense right now. i can't get much out along one line of thought because by the time i do, i've already skidded past at least a dozen others. if only there were a ticker tape attached to my brain.

i wanted to call tonight one big sigh in the middle of my life. but it's not so bad. it's not great. but i'm sitting in a comfortable place, and i'm doing something that i want to do. i'm not sure i'm happy. but i'm really not so miserable at the moment. my arm might be kind of itchy, and my glasses are annoying me. but i'm really not mad at anyone. i am kind of sad, but there is nothing i can do about that sadness but let it happen. and i knew it was going to. it might hang around forever. i'm quite sure this sadness makes up a little piece of who i am, but that thought itself might be the reason it is so hard for me to find anything other than sadness when i visit these memories. happiness needs to find its way in. but it can only do that if i make enough room. happiness doesn't take up as much space. that's why it comes with a feeling of such lightness.

and everything is just okay.
and that's okay.

goodnight.

standing still

i want to burn up from the inside out and bleed fire
i hear nothing when people scream and want to scream in my own silence.
i feel like the scraping noise a dried up pen makes against paper on which it wasn't meant to write and every line i see reminds me
of how far away i am
and every face i see is meaningless
and every face i see is a mirror
that i'll never understand
i love the movie that never changes but hate my life
that never changes
except that i don't and wonder if i should
be doing something else.
i feel like every word is a secret and every day
is a joke that i'll never
understand.
and you make me
stand here
and i say nothing
about how much it hurts
because it hurts
much more
to do nothing.
and so i write.

Fact

I am honestly more self-conscious about losing my hair than I am about keeping my chest.