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I wrote this two days ago, in my blog. I will post it here to contextualize what I'm actually feeling right now:

10/21/08

"There is a breaking point. There's a point where you must stop and look around. You look around and you look, and you look…and you look. And at this point, you notice that everything is different. You expect it to be one way, and it isn't. You expect it to be the way you imagined: everything perfect; everything sunny and shiny and shimmering. This, this is the breaking point, that you realize life sucks because it's hard, and it's hard 'cause it sucks. There is no breaking that cycle; that circuit is constant and current. And no matter how you look, no matter which way you squint your eye, and stare away, everything stays that dismal color of gray.

I'm not at this point. But. I see it off in the distance. I see myself fast approaching to this land of lack; this colorless canvas of melancholy, and I'm not all too surprised.

Ok, I'm bracing myself for the sudden halt of what I'm doing to my life. I'm willingly making myself vulnurable again. I have to stop and question where my self esteem failed me, and why I can't seem to stop myself for self inflicting torture.

Why do I love them? How can I love them?

Him?

Somewhere I fell for his sweet talk, and that insatiable smile he gives me when he stares. That smile he gives me, and only me, when I'm in the room (not to say he doesn't give it to someone else when I'm not; this I'm aware of). He's too much like me to handle.

I've always said I want to date myself, but after meeting him, realize it hurts too much.

I've fallen again, and this time I don't care. This time, I will go along with the lie, aware of it's pretense. I will hold on to it and let myself love him. I will love him. And I will hurt. And I don't care because…

…because there is a breaking point, and I'm not there yet.

The world is gray, but his eyes are blue. So blue.

-T"

10/22/08

Now to vent:

I walked home today from his house, late and sans sex. On my walk home, I rewrote that stupid entry into my Blogger, over and over again, trying to find that place I had been standing. Looking back and looking for the chalk outline of my body on the ground. I'm a character, fictional and over the top. And my foils were just gaudy. There was the man stopped at a red light, screaming at himself in the rearview mirror for something trivial; there was the speeding cab driver unconcerned for any drunk pedestrians who happened to be stumbling across the street; there was the homeless man snoring to himself while cradling his 40oz. in his arm. I've never felt so understood by my surroundings.

The air was cold and smelled of epiphany. My kafiyeh kept the wind at arms length--the same kafiyeh he scoffed at with a turned up nose, and an arrogant wallet. I let myself love him, or better yet, needed to love him. Once again, I became, not a man--a person--, but a sex object. Dark skin, dark eyes, the Other. My audience is full of perverts and I'm growing tired of hearing their cat calls. And I almost cried upon realizing his whistles were disguised in his whispers-his wolf cry in the soft "baa" of the sheep.

I felt cheap.

I grabbed my things and left, refusing his money for a cab. Keep it, I'd rather walk than have to thank you. How foolish I am. A part of me hoped for some climactic chase: him running out bearfoot down the street, begging me to understand; him following me in his car, pleeding with me to let him give me a ride; or, something as simple as repeated phonecalls. I got nothing. Even as I turned the corner onto my street, my heart still thought for certain, it surely couldn't be over. Push open the door, T, he's not coming.

And so here I am, at my breaking point. And it only took a day for it to happen. His eyes stayed blue, but my heart, it went color blind.

Hello gray world, my train has stopped.

-T

Life Lesson #243

There is a breaking point. There's a point where you must stop and look around. You look around and you look, and you look…and you look. And at this point, you notice that everything is different. You expect it to be one way, and it isn't. You expect it to be the way you imagined: everything perfect; everything sunny and shiny and shimmering. This, this is the breaking point, that you realize life sucks because it's hard, and it's hard 'cause it sucks. There is no breaking that cycle; that circuit is constant and current. And no matter how you look, no matter which way you squint your eye, and stare away, everything stays that dismal color of grey.

I'm not at this point. But. I see it off in the distance. I see myself fast approaching to this land of lack; this colorless canvas of melancholy, and I'm not all too surprised.

Ok, I'm bracing myself for the sudden halt of what I'm doing to my life. I'm willingly becoming the "other woman" again. I have to stop and question where my self esteem failed me, and why I can't seem to stop myself for self inflicting torture.

Why do I love them? How can I love them?

Him?

Somewhere I fell for his sweet talk, and that insatiable smile he gives me when he stares. That smile he gives me, and only me, when I'm in the room (not to say he doesn't give it to someone else when I'm not; this I'm aware of). He's too much like me to handle.

I've always said I want to date myself, but after meeting him, realize it hurts too much.

I've fallen again, and this time I don't care. This time, I will go along with the lie, aware of it's pretense. I will hold on to it and let myself love him. I will love him. And I will hurt. And I don't care because…

…because there is a breaking point, and I'm not there yet.

The world is grey, but his eyes are blue. So blue.

-T.(C).

Confused and...

Scared and,

Tired and,

22.

I've made a mistake.

Argh.

June, that's when I last posted. It's now mid October and I'm so nervous to start writing again. Why? I'm not sure; it's not as if anyone reads this (those that try never really understand all of my personal references, and in all honesty, I'm not too concerned with spelling things out for my audience), so why do I feel such unease when convincing myself to start blogging again? I'm too caffeinated at the moment to figure it out, and too young to be capable of it anyway.

Yesterday was a grand day. I sat in the passenger seat of Hollywood's parental SUV with the new crew of ladies accompanying me to Fright Fest. It's insane how quickly things can change. A year ago yesterday, I didn't know two of them, and was only reconnecting with the other. And while I was laughing and talking, a part of me was sad to think that it could all change again. What shockwave will come and disrupt my life? What event will lead to me growing closer or farther from my team of gays? My roommate is my best friend, and I never see him anymore. I don't mind it; I love him nonetheless, but I miss him.

The rides were crazy and hardly worth the wait, but what I find worth "it" is the day I got to spend laughing, screaming, and of course…eating.

I have a new job (for now) and it pays the bills.

My love life is non-existent. So, I cling to the residue of what once was, and try and convince myself I'm ok. That part of me has eroded completely, and yet I hold on to it like a peninsula to some great body of land. I know eventually I'll have to let it go and gaze at it from the shore, and island off in the distance, but for now, I'm too scared to let go. I grow tired of being independent (note the absence of the prefix "co," haha). Blah.

Ugh, ok I need to go work out; I need to drop a few more pounds before I parade around LA half naked for Halloween.

This was a nice refresher though, I'm sure I'll blog again once I'm dead from my cardio.

-T