Playing With Fire

It’s been a couple of wild weeks. I haven’t had anytime to sit down and notice where I am. I’ve been running and running down a path that I didn’t notice all the signs I was passing.

I am happy. Happy sounds too good to be true. I am content. No, I am ok. Yeah that feels more right. If I were to be content I’d have all of my debts paid. If I were to be happy then I’d be sippin something sweet at a beach with more than 10 digits in my bank account.

But nonetheless, I am here and I am ok.

For now.

See what I did there.

I’ve been texting my ex on and off. I’m trying to get my feelings together before I make any brash decisions. I like her. I like her a lot. I don’t like the religion she is a part of, and that I once was. But I like her. She makes me feel something, something inside of me. In my stomach, then my heart.

I know I like her and want to be with her because there is no validation that I need from anyone any more. From who? Church friends? Nope, they don’t talk to me. Other church goers? Nope, I haven’t seen them in months. My mom? She actually doesn’t want to get involved in this. And my non religious friends? Well, some wouldn’t care. Some would. But it’s my decision. I always end up doing what I want anyways.

Today she texted me saying that she had to say something that she’s been holding back.

After I was done reading what she had wrote I was on the verge of tears. God. What have I done? What did I do? Did I make such an impact on this one person to want me this bad she is willing to to leave everything behind just for me?

What do I do?

I have to be careful.

I’m now playing with Fire.

Not Human

I am very well at expressing my emotions. If I am happy you will definitely know that I am. If I am sad, with no doubt that will show on my face and the way I carry myself. Even possibly it will show in the way I walk.

Now,¬†my question is, how do some people walk around this world faking all of their expressions and emotions? Hiding their emotions like its a dirty stain on their shirt that they don’t want anyone to see. Sweeping it under the wrong where no one can see them but everyone can step on them?

But then, late at night. That’s when they let it out. When they are alone. When the pressure is to much and their shoulders are tired of caring a facade all day. Is that healthy? Is that ok? I mean yes, my emotional state of mine brings me problems once in a while but I’d rather let it all out then hold it all in, if that makes any sense.

One of my friends texted in in the middle of the night with some words of concern, or at least I thought. But then soon in the day when I asked him about it, he told me “never mind”. Oh, ok, sure. I’m sorry I bothered you with my friendship. It must have been a typo what you wrote, did you forget to put your filter on at night? That something actually real came out of your mouth?

Are some people like that? Do they not like to talk to the people they most trust? Honestly yes, I do feel that way some times. But not to the fullest extent. I don’t want to reveal what I feel. But then there are times when you wont be able to shut me up. I’m an emotional wreck, but it’s ok we’ve learned to love that about me right? (LOL).

I’ve noticed though that there are some people I know that I wonder if they are even humans. They show no sign of emotion, sympathy, or anything close to acting like a regular person would. They walk around acting like the rest of us, they live their lives just as a regular person would, and they even have “connections” with people in their inner circles. If you didn’t take time to pay attention they might even seem like regular people. But they’re not. They can’t be.

The one thing that’s missing is, emotion. There is none. They act like they are supposed to if I tell them something sad. They try their best to show compassion, but lets be real, I know its all fake. I know they hide something behind that cheesey smile.

Or maybe its just me? Most likely.


Watch my latest YouTube video

The Ugly Part Of Friendship

Friendship is like a piece of paper. It’s nice when it’s new. The possibilities are endless to what you can write. It’s a blank canvas of endless adventures and excitement. It’s clean, untouched, and unbothered. Sometimes it almost feels like there is no ending.

But, crumble that paper up in a ball. Or grab a pen and pierce the paper fiercely with anger. Wet it and throw it around some. Step on it. Make little cuts along the edges.

Now, try to unfold it. Try to make it as flat and as smooth as it once was. Try to make it new again. Try to read the words that were once on that paper now filled with holes. Is it still wet? Is it sticking to itself? Are the blue lines that separated sentences blurred and hard to tell apart? Is it a struggle just figure out what to do with the paper? Is there anything else that can be done to save it or is it just a lost cause?

In the same way, friendship can go through so many challenges and in the end it will never be a clean piece of paper. It’s fragile, damaged, barley holding together, and it’s hard to make out what once was. Will it ever be the same once it has gone through so many obstacles? All the mistrust, hate, deceiving, lying, and deception?

That’s the ugly part of friendship. Tell me, is it really worth it, to keep this friendship alive?

Gray Areas

Is it possible for a man who has in the past and present presented himself and or classifies as gay to catch feelings for a female?

This question has been at the top of my head for over a month now. And even though I have been dating men for a while now and I do find them attractive and I classify myself as a gay man, I have built up feelings for one of my friends who is a female.

Long story short, I’m in a wedding this upcoming weekend and I will be dancing for the bride and groom. They partnered me with someone I’ve known only by face and namely my church. Obviously when you have someone so close to you and spend hours practicing you get to know them.

Not many people know this but my first love was actually a female. Also a childhood friend. I wanted to be with her, talk to her, hold her hand, hold her in my arms, and kiss her. But yet here I am classifying myself as a gay. My biggest question is what am I?

Here I am again, getting to know this wonderful girl, who has a huge heart and a beautiful smile. I talk to her everyday and it comes so naturally. All these years I walk around thinking I like guys and guys only. Then again I’ve been taught to grow up and marry a woman, so that also makes me overthink these feelings.

Do I like her because I was taught to? Or do I really like her? What do I classify as? Am I gay? Am I bisexual? One of my friends said I might be pansexual. Could that be so? Am I attracted to personality above the physical or gender? How can I be so sure that I am one thing and not the other?

Why do we even have to be labeled in these boxes? Why do we have to identify as anything? Why can we not just like what we like and not feel bad about it?

I know people have so many options over gender identification and sexuality. And I know they want it all to be black and white. But it’s not, it’s really not. There are so many gray areas. It’s not just you’re a guy you like girls or you’re girl you like guys or guys with guys and girls with girls, love is love is it not? Love sees no gender? Love is not about sex, it’s about who you love, who you want to spend your time with, and the rest of your life with.

Do They Know Me?

The concept of actually knowing some one makes my little brain flutter with emotions.

How do you know someone? Sure, you know there favorite color, favorite foods, the things that make them happy, and even the things that they hate. But these are just things that you know of them, not necessarily them, themselves.

I know a lot of people. Well better said, I know of a lot of people. I know many things about them. Through the course of years I’ve gotten to know more and more about them. They too have grown to know of me. But do they know me?

Do they know me? No. They know the me that I let them see. They know the person I want them to see. The person they want me to be. Why? To keep them? To make them happy? To not cause any confrontations? The answer to all of these may possibly be yes.

I would like someone, at least one person, to get to know me. Not of me. Not my favorite color, nor food, or anything that describes me. I want them to know me.

Trust

I didn’t do it.

I was too scared. My whole life is in that email. To just give it away like that. It was just too much for me. I decided that I’ll put it somewhere safe and if he ever decides to want to read it I’ll hand it over.

But why am I just going to spill my soul when he won’t? I know there needs to be trust in friendships but this goes way deeper . It’s all my secrets . I don’t want to overwhelm him with everything if all he has to say is one little mistake he made.

This morning when I woke up I decided that in the notebook that we share, I’ll be writing things he doesn’t know about slowly building my way up to what I have to tell him. It’s not for him to tell me his secrets it’s just for him to see how much I trust him.

Unappreciated 2.0

I have a rant. If you don’t wont to hear it then the door is right there *points to the door*.

OK, so lately I think working two jobs is getting to me. I have been more stressed and have been more worn out. I have been feeling down. I think I need time to myself, time to go far far away with my thoughts and just think.

One of my greatest problems is giving my all to people and it seems that I never get back half of what I give. I feel so unappreciated. I feel unwanted. I do feel needed but only to be used for other people’s purpose.

I’m tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of always complaining. I’m tired of always playing the victom. Why can’t I for once be the one with the perfect life. Why can’t I be satisfied with what I have. I like to think I am happy with the things I do and the things that I own, but I don’t, and I don’t want more. Possessions is not what I desire. Its peace. Its time. It’s just the feeling of being ok. But how can I have those things when all I feel is empty.

Rejection 

            It’s crazy how we as human beings always have to be a part of something. We always have to feel wanted. And when we don’t, the feeling of rejection feels like fire consumming up a beautiful green forest in the middle of the night. It feels like a knife slowly erupting from within the heart cutting circulation and cutting life itself. At least for me it does. 

            That’s pretty much how I have felt all my life. One of my main fears, if not my number one, would be, rejection. It feels awful. One of the worst feelings someone can have. Specially when all you have ever wanted was to be part of something, to be, involved. 

            Everyday at work the coworkers I associate the most with and I always sit at the same table. We have marked it as our table. Not literally of course but mostly everyone knows that it is where we sit on our breaks and lunches. But some times someone new or just another random employee will sit there. That won’t make my coworkers sit else where though. They will just pull up a chair and sit around them. 

            It may seem rude but they are polite and say hi and offer their food or snacks. Maybe we should sit somewhere else? Maybe we should get there earlier? But we don’t. 

            Today though was different. I got ther last and all the seats were taken. It’s a table for four, and I was number seven. I pulled up a chair and Mr. Brown who was sitting at a near by table said, “Dam man! There’s a free table right there.” 

           I felt really bad. Yes, I could have gone to that table and sat alone. And even though I don’t consider my coworkers friends they are still close associates I talk to. As bad as it sounds they are there to fill the empty void I would feel if I was alone. 

            When Mr. Brown said that, it made me feel bad. Bad that I wasn’t brave enough to sit alone. Bad that I always had that feeling of rejection in the back of my mind that I had to avoid. Bad that I always had a feeling of being wanted. Bad that I had to sit at that table to feel part of something. Bad because I was just using them to not feel alone. 

But, am I the only one?

Mean

          Why are people so mean? Or is it that I just live in a ghetto city? Where people don’t give a fuck about what they say or what they do? Where they don’t care how they treat people, or let alone, if they hurt them? Where they only think about themselves?

          Or maybe I was raised right. I was raised to be respectful. I was raised to be kind and to care about others. To treat others the way you want to be treated. But what if you don’t get that in return? Still, I continue to be nice. Am I too good for this city? Or am I just too humble?

          At work there is a wide long cold distance between girls. Some don’t talk to each other because one didn’t say hi to the other for one day. Others because they simply forgot to invited them to a work birthday lunch, then all the sudden they are sworn enemies. All this is so stupid, but why do you girls live like this? It’s almost like they like it. But when they go home do they not feel the pain that the other person must be in? Wondering why they did the things that they did? 

          Then there are guys who, I don’t know why, but for fun they like to say ‘fuck you’ to each other. THERE IS NO POINT IN THIS. So why do it? Then there is that masculinity bullshit. My dick this my dick that, pussy, pussy, pussy. Who cares? Well, actually, who ever does care is one stupid person with no life goals. There’s more in life than your dick dude. 

          I just want to meet a genuine kind person. Not someone who at first will seem like a nice lovely rose, but then turn out to have the most vicious and sharpest thorns of them all. 

          I wish people would be nicer. I wish people would think before they say their hurtful words. I wish people could see how their words can affect people. I wish they could change. But it’s not up to me. That’s the sad part. 

Why?

Dear Journal, 

          I am, in yet, another conundrum. But as I lay here in bed writing this, I wonder, is it of my own doing? Or am I one of those people that has such a big heart that can only find blame in ones self and not others? Would a person with a big heart say that? 

          Why do I say this? Well, one of my friends sent me a Snapchat the other day. I ignored it because I just couldn’t face to open up a conversation after we hadn’t spoken in months. And also, or should I say mainly? I was some what mad. Maybe a little irritated that this person would try to start a conversation after this long, by means of a social media. Why not text and say hey, I miss you how you been? Or possibly I was wondering how your doing. A freaking call would have been nice! But no, there was no call, no text, just a simple picture that erased after four seconds never to see the light of day again. So, of course, I did not respond. 

           Today she sent a video. You you think it was heart warming? Maybe some words of motivation? No. I noticed that at the same time I got the snap she and her husband were out and about with they’re dog and she put it on her “story”. Must have been a video about that. I did not open it and I have yet to. I don’t want to. Right now I’m in a shitty place in my life that I can barley bare day by day. And you have the audacity to send me cute snaps and videos of you having the time of your life? Excuse me but, what the fuck? That’s not what you do to a friend. Oh your sad? Oh, life isn’t treating you well? That’s to bad, but look at my cute dog playing in the sand on the beach by the hotel we booked for the weekend because we just had extra money around and we didn’t know what else to do with it. Ok maybe that’s an extreme exaggeration, but that’s what I feel. Unfortunately that’s how my brain is wired to think. 

          Then on the whole other side of the coin I blame myself fully. I don’t diserve friends like that. I know that they care. They are the best, they are good.  I stood them up because I didn’t have enough money to buy chips and didn’t have the balls to tell them. (Then again, anxiety). Every time they reached out I pushed hem away. (Then again, they didn’t actually try). 

          We all may have a little to do in all this but deep down I just have so many things to yell at them. I just need to get it all out of my system. To ask them questions. Beg them for explanations. 

          Why didn’t you notice I was falling apart? Why didn’t you see how much I was struggling? Didn’t you see how my smiles turned into frowns? Why didn’t you notice how unhappy I was feeling? Why didn’t you sympathize when I said things weren’t going so good? Why didn’t you ask if everything was actually ok when I said it was? Why did you wave evey forced smile when you knew there was more behind it? Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t you try harder? Why did you stop trying? 

Why?


4/25/2017