I've got this pesky northern accent. No matter how hard I try to get rid of it, it just won't go away. And then I go and spend a week in Minnesota, and I lose all the ground that I gained. Oh well.
"It's cute," he says.
Why do I care what he says? And how does he know when I'm going to start blogging? I swear that the moment I sign into this blasted thing, he calls or texts or something.
Dammit. I get so close. I read your blog, Avery. It was funny because it was exactly what I was about to get on here and write about. Knowing and doing are so frustratingly different. Feeling that I could be ok, happy, peaceful just doing what I'm supposed to do... but it's there. It's always there. It'll always be there. I'm trying to be fully invested, but I can't do it. I can't do it because I can't feel like it is the only way that I'll be happy.
I can't do it because I can't adopt that weird self-loathing, again. It was so painful. I'm getting used to the person that I am and learning to look beyond the fact that I'm gay.
To do something meaningful and good in life is not solely reserved for heterosexuals, you know? I've wanted to fit in for so long. I get close, but not quite. In the back of my mind, I know that I'm not quite fitting in-- that there's a part of me that I feel like I have to hide, shun, fear. And in the dark corner of my mind, it grows, yells, screams, consumes my thoughts, distracts me, destroys me.
But now, I deal with it. I think about it. I contemplate it, I guess. I accept the fact that it exists, that it is a part of my life, and I feel this weird sense of liberation. How is it that I feel more stable with accepting the issue?
I just can't get it out tonight, not like I want to get it out.
He's there, talking to me, and I can't figure out what it is that he wants from me. Hot and cold, you know? And I have the whole "church" thing that makes me understand that this really is a "hot/cold" kinda deal. I mean, hey, I do it myself. And so here I am, wanting some sense of stability. I think that I achieve it, and then he says something or does something that throws me off balance. Not a catastrophe, but it throws me off balance, and I start to reevaluate my position.
I want the moral support. I want the emotional connection, the physical attraction, the mutual love, respect. I want to be able to wake up in the morning and have a reason to go do something great, productive, amazing. Sad, I know. I should have that desire independently. But I don't. I know, deep down, that I would be able to accomplish a moderate amount and feel just fine with that. But I need someone to push me, and I need someone that I want to help be happy.
Gay. It's so gay.
I've stopped feeling the spiritual gyrations. Have they stopped? Am I just numb?
And I have to be honest: When I first met him, I couldn't focus to save my life. It was pretty pathetic. So am I just kidding myself in saying that I need someone that can push me? Could they push me? Should I possess this desire independently? But it's deeper than that, I know. I guess that it leads to some want that I don't fully understand...
Here I am, looking over the edge of a cliff, staring down, searching for the ground, but only seeing clouds, fog, mist. There are no predecessors, no smiling faces to encourage, empathize, guide, counsel. Others may try, but we are the only ones that truly understand our position. So, seeing no bottom, we leap, right? We jump without knowing. We jump and trust. In what?
I would jump if only I could answer.
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