As I begin to find myself and to explore who I really am, openly and honestly, I find that I am no longer sure of the things I once told myself about my sexuality. I grew up in rural American, in the 80's. I was feed alot of things about sexuality and gay men, in particular. How wrong it was to be that way. By calling your friend 'fag' or 'queer', you were insulting him deeply. My school was small and the town not very diverse. No cable TV, only 6 stations, all local. I had a few very brief relations with other little boys, but it left me feeling ashamed. A was just a boy, mind you. I love women, their bodies and their minds. I am afraid of men. My father was domineering and often cruel with his words. I did not have any close male friends, I feared them then, too. There were a couple of girls who I grew up near, we played the games that two normal children let alone mayhaps will. I was always very interested but became shy and somewhat ostracized as I passed through puberty. I did not have any intimate relations with anyone from ages 12 to 17, then it was not much, no real sex, just naked, I was shy. After that there was noone til I was 24!! She was wonderful. Sex was awesome, fantasti-roo-nee! She and I were together for 2 years, our intense sexual relationship held us together for the last 1, when everything else feel apart. She was the first girl I was ever with, in an adult relationship. I made alot of the mistakes that are usually made in youth, I NEVER cheated, but I betrayed her in the end. She loved me, forever, but I was dumb, stupid, I slowly killed that love, a bit at a time, til it could not be anymore. I see that. now. too late. but that is mine.
Many strange and wonderful things happened over the next three years, but no sexual relations of any sort. I met a woman, a very special woman, in a situation which demanded we not do anything sexually. Though we were strongly sexually attracted to one another. She and I connected on so many levels. I ways I had never experienced before. She opened my eyes and helped me to recognize who I really am, not who I see when I look at myself. She helped me to change so many ideas that were imbedded deep into my psyche, things which did not make sense if I looked at them from the side. I wrote poetry and journals and she read them and they were honest. And she was honest with me. We spoke of many things in our time as friends. Silly things and fundamental things. She made me be brutally honest with myself. I think she gave me wings, and told me the basics of flying, but demanded that I learn to fly on my own, without any help from her. She was, and most likely is still, a most wonderful human being. One of those special one who come by but once or twice in a person's lifetime. Her light was so bright to me, I was nearly blinded by it, yet drawn in like a fish on a line. I almost elected not to talk to her soon after we met. I was not so much afraid of her, as I was afraid of what she could do to me. To change my whole world. To draw me out of the ridged shell I had built up around myself, to protect myself from emotional trauma.
But, it is a long road back from the place where I had put myself. It has taken alot of self-examination and bit of help from others along the way. I am still searching for my place, my niche. But I know vastly more about myself and I tend to be honest with myself.
I have been through some crazy things in the past 3 years. I have seen things, bits of the evils which plague the human race. I met a lovely girl who was dying, inside and out. Addicted to heroin, trying to escape the horrors of her past, at the hands of men, many men. I tried to save her, I did all I could. But she was lost to me, the more I did the more she pulled away. She had a wall built up around her, the top was among the stars. I knew her a week, I never slept, not at all that week. I tried to help her to get methadone, it worked for four days. Then she turned on me, like a wild animal, I don't know why. We liked each other. But the drug is strong. I held her as she withdrew. Never sex. We could not, or rather I could not.
What the hell did I start writing about? Oh, yes. exploring myself. I've always questioned my sexuality. Though I am far more into women than I am of other men, most I fear, as I said before. Though, with certain females I will comment on other men, explicitly at times. There have been very, very few men who have ever done anything for me sexually.
I gotta go. Peace in your hearts and calm in your minds.
My heart is full of vengeance and anger toward these destroyers and poisoners, yet society does not allow me to lay my vengeance upon them.