One day, they took all the alcohol on planet Earth and burned it. They poured all of the bottles of schnapps, whiskey, vodka, martinis, beer, wine, hard lemonade, hard limeade, and all the other alcoholic beverages ingested for pleasure, into a large, large tub. Then, they lit it on fire. It burned for months and ruined the atmosphere for years and years and years. But nobody cared, because it made society a better place. Nobody questioned it. Nobody ever brewed alcohol again. Everyone was happy. The end.
That's a work of fiction. I'd make NaNoWriMo proud. If only it were longer. And true. It being true would be great as well. Then I wouldn't have to deal with drunken family members screaming at each other. Or my mother arriving already drunk to Thanksgiving. Or my mother crying after my grandfather yelled at her. Or my mother crying after my father yelled at her. Or my mother getting mad at me after I yell at her.
And I wouldn't have to deal with my father getting mad at me and saying stuff that he doesn't mean, hopefully, ignorantly, but it still hurts nonetheless. That last sentence wasn't even a sentence. Are you paying attention?
I'm in-again-out-again with this crush. I wish it would just go under, hit the propellers, and die. But it can't die because I don't have anything to replace it with. No other crush, no other anything. There's no more time for a relationship in high school. There's no opportunity, for me, for a relationship in high school. I keep telling myself that there's just one more year until I never have to come back to this godforsaken town with its corrupt politicians and ridiculous rules, with the most conservative of residents who make me feel uncomfortable being in my own skin. I never have to come back. The gravity of that sentence is amazing. I never have to come back. I don't have to come back!
I can meet people in Milwaukee. I can meet people in Madison, Waukesha, La Crosse, Eau Claire. I can meet them anywhere. But I refuse...I refuse to come back to Menomonee Falls and set foot in my childhood home. I'm leaving. If my parents want to come out and see me, well, that's good for them! I'll certainly be happier there, wherever I'll be, than where I am now. I need to put myself out there, be seen.
I just want happiness. Now there's fiction for you. Happiness. Sure, I'm happy. No, wait. I know a better word. Sure, I'm content! I'm content to fucking hell. It's like when people use "mediocre" as an acceptable alternative to "good" or "acceptable." How are you? "I'm content."
I could live like this for the rest of my life, which I'm sure would be long and pitiful, just to spite me. I wouldn't kill myself because I don't ever consider that an option. I'd live out my long, painful life, waiting for a natural death to cap it all off as the pinnacle of crappiness. Knowing that, I'd probably live forever. Hell is on Earth; I'm already there.
So maybe I'm being a little melodramatic. But what does it matter if I already feel that way? It's what I know as truth, so it's the truth to me. What does it matter if it strikes you as a bit off-key and rather melodramatic? I don't care. I want to get out of here. I want to be alone, away from family, away from friends who don't care, away from this life where I can't be myself because I really don't have any options. Of the two gay kids I know, one no longer has a crush on me, and the other, as far as I know, doesn't even know I'm gay. I'm out of options. Out. Kaput.
Do you know what I want more than anything else in the entire world? I want someone to hold me. To wrap their arms around me and, with their touch, infuse me with a love transplant. Their skin would contact my skin. Our brains, sensing this contact, would release dopamine into our respective systems. This would encourage further conduct like this.
Yeah. That's all I want. A fucking hug. I want a fucking hug from fucking someone who fucking likes me fucking back. Fuck, is that so hard to ask? I want a fucking hug, dammit! From someone who would enjoy it too! Because it comes from me!
I feel desolate. Unloved. Yes, my friends love me. Yes, my family loves me. But I feel as though I'm not their anything. Yeah. I'm my family's son/nephew/uncle/grandson/whatever. Yeah, I'm a BFF/bestie/boyfriend/whatever. What does it mean? Nothing. I'm not anyone's anything. I don't go with anyone. I'm not paired. All electrons need a paired spin, otherwise they make their respective element magnetic. Electrons want pairs. It's why magnetic things attract other magnetic things. I just fucking want an opposite spin to pair with me. Is that so hard to ask? I know it requires energy to ionize, but I don't see why it requires so much. Maybe I'm a carbon-group element. It's equally as difficult to gain or lose. So I either can pair up with something else or be paired up with.
I want to mean something to someone. I want to be the thing that brightens someone's day. I want to be the one thing someone looks forward to. I want to stick out in their mind as the one thing that keeps them going every single day. I want to mean something.
I feel so mad at myself that I can't stand up and stop people when they call something gay or somebody a fag. It makes me mad that I let it go on and still feel like crap afterwards. And I hate that people who don't agree with homosexuality still act condescendingly to like someone who is gay even after they say "I don't like your homosexuality, but I like you." Guess fucking what. It's a package deal.
Know what I also hate? How I'm so quiet, yet my mind is so vocal. I want to scream. In fact, I'm screaming in my mind. There's a low, metallic buzz I hear all day. It runs and runs and runs and runs and I want to scream, to turn it off, to drown it out, but I know I can't stop it. It's a pressure. It wears me down and makes me wish I could stop being conscious so I could avoid hearing it.
I want to stay here with my friends. I want to know them forever. I want to continue my adventures, to never venture outside my safety bubble. I want to stay here, safe, with my friends forever. But this thought scares me.
I HAVE NO FUTURE HERE. I HAVE NO EXISTENCE HERE. I'm sick of people telling me to apply to MSOE to stay in the area. I want to tell them so badly that I can't stay here because I'll never find love. I want to tell them so badly that I love them very much, but I could never be happy here. I want to be happy. I've been content for seventeen years and I don't want to spend another 68 years just content before I die just content. I want to see the world, find love, and do all sorts of fun and amazing things. I want to keep in touch with all of you, but I need to get away. I have to get away. I'm so scared that I'll stay content and stay here and never find love and either die in a hate crime or be lonely the rest of my life. It feels terrible. You all have girlfriends and boyfriends and significant others and husbands and wives to be paired with. I have nobody. No one. I don't seem like the kind of person who wants love so badly, but I am. Beneath my cool, logical exterior is a lonely romantic. I'm trapped inside myself and I can't get out. I just want to be loved.
I want to know you for the rest of my life, second crush. I want to stay with you. I could totally be your roommate in college. The spot is open for me. I know it is. But do know one thing. The one thing that I would kill myself over would be the crush I have on you. I know you're straight. You told me so. You're not interested. You told me so. I'm your friend. You told me so. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! But I can't stop the wheels from turning. I wish you were gay. I wished so hard for so long, and not one of my wishes came true. I learned that wishing is for children. If you want something to happen, you have to go out and make it happen. Coincidences aren't. I wish I could have you, but I can't. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's nature. It's unstoppable. I need to let go and move on to something. I don't know what. I think Pittsburgh. I need to let go of you and move onto Pittsburgh. There, I'll meet more people I have no shot with. I'll feel even worse about myself and maybe one day I'll come home and find that nothing has changed. My parents will still get drunk, you'll still be straight, and everyone will still have a pair, except me. I'll still be too scared to say things I need to say, and I'll still have the crush that won't die. But I can't. I have to get away. I have to get out. I have to get out of this city, this county, this state, this country, this planet, this solar system, this galaxy, this cluster, this universe. I have to get out of my goddamned head!
That's a work of fiction. I'd make NaNoWriMo proud. If only it were longer. And true. It being true would be great as well. Then I wouldn't have to deal with drunken family members screaming at each other. Or my mother arriving already drunk to Thanksgiving. Or my mother crying after my grandfather yelled at her. Or my mother crying after my father yelled at her. Or my mother getting mad at me after I yell at her.
And I wouldn't have to deal with my father getting mad at me and saying stuff that he doesn't mean, hopefully, ignorantly, but it still hurts nonetheless. That last sentence wasn't even a sentence. Are you paying attention?
I'm in-again-out-again with this crush. I wish it would just go under, hit the propellers, and die. But it can't die because I don't have anything to replace it with. No other crush, no other anything. There's no more time for a relationship in high school. There's no opportunity, for me, for a relationship in high school. I keep telling myself that there's just one more year until I never have to come back to this godforsaken town with its corrupt politicians and ridiculous rules, with the most conservative of residents who make me feel uncomfortable being in my own skin. I never have to come back. The gravity of that sentence is amazing. I never have to come back. I don't have to come back!
I can meet people in Milwaukee. I can meet people in Madison, Waukesha, La Crosse, Eau Claire. I can meet them anywhere. But I refuse...I refuse to come back to Menomonee Falls and set foot in my childhood home. I'm leaving. If my parents want to come out and see me, well, that's good for them! I'll certainly be happier there, wherever I'll be, than where I am now. I need to put myself out there, be seen.
I just want happiness. Now there's fiction for you. Happiness. Sure, I'm happy. No, wait. I know a better word. Sure, I'm content! I'm content to fucking hell. It's like when people use "mediocre" as an acceptable alternative to "good" or "acceptable." How are you? "I'm content."
I could live like this for the rest of my life, which I'm sure would be long and pitiful, just to spite me. I wouldn't kill myself because I don't ever consider that an option. I'd live out my long, painful life, waiting for a natural death to cap it all off as the pinnacle of crappiness. Knowing that, I'd probably live forever. Hell is on Earth; I'm already there.
So maybe I'm being a little melodramatic. But what does it matter if I already feel that way? It's what I know as truth, so it's the truth to me. What does it matter if it strikes you as a bit off-key and rather melodramatic? I don't care. I want to get out of here. I want to be alone, away from family, away from friends who don't care, away from this life where I can't be myself because I really don't have any options. Of the two gay kids I know, one no longer has a crush on me, and the other, as far as I know, doesn't even know I'm gay. I'm out of options. Out. Kaput.
Do you know what I want more than anything else in the entire world? I want someone to hold me. To wrap their arms around me and, with their touch, infuse me with a love transplant. Their skin would contact my skin. Our brains, sensing this contact, would release dopamine into our respective systems. This would encourage further conduct like this.
Yeah. That's all I want. A fucking hug. I want a fucking hug from fucking someone who fucking likes me fucking back. Fuck, is that so hard to ask? I want a fucking hug, dammit! From someone who would enjoy it too! Because it comes from me!
I feel desolate. Unloved. Yes, my friends love me. Yes, my family loves me. But I feel as though I'm not their anything. Yeah. I'm my family's son/nephew/uncle/grandson/whatever. Yeah, I'm a BFF/bestie/boyfriend/whatever. What does it mean? Nothing. I'm not anyone's anything. I don't go with anyone. I'm not paired. All electrons need a paired spin, otherwise they make their respective element magnetic. Electrons want pairs. It's why magnetic things attract other magnetic things. I just fucking want an opposite spin to pair with me. Is that so hard to ask? I know it requires energy to ionize, but I don't see why it requires so much. Maybe I'm a carbon-group element. It's equally as difficult to gain or lose. So I either can pair up with something else or be paired up with.
I want to mean something to someone. I want to be the thing that brightens someone's day. I want to be the one thing someone looks forward to. I want to stick out in their mind as the one thing that keeps them going every single day. I want to mean something.
I feel so mad at myself that I can't stand up and stop people when they call something gay or somebody a fag. It makes me mad that I let it go on and still feel like crap afterwards. And I hate that people who don't agree with homosexuality still act condescendingly to like someone who is gay even after they say "I don't like your homosexuality, but I like you." Guess fucking what. It's a package deal.
Know what I also hate? How I'm so quiet, yet my mind is so vocal. I want to scream. In fact, I'm screaming in my mind. There's a low, metallic buzz I hear all day. It runs and runs and runs and runs and I want to scream, to turn it off, to drown it out, but I know I can't stop it. It's a pressure. It wears me down and makes me wish I could stop being conscious so I could avoid hearing it.
I want to stay here with my friends. I want to know them forever. I want to continue my adventures, to never venture outside my safety bubble. I want to stay here, safe, with my friends forever. But this thought scares me.
I HAVE NO FUTURE HERE. I HAVE NO EXISTENCE HERE. I'm sick of people telling me to apply to MSOE to stay in the area. I want to tell them so badly that I can't stay here because I'll never find love. I want to tell them so badly that I love them very much, but I could never be happy here. I want to be happy. I've been content for seventeen years and I don't want to spend another 68 years just content before I die just content. I want to see the world, find love, and do all sorts of fun and amazing things. I want to keep in touch with all of you, but I need to get away. I have to get away. I'm so scared that I'll stay content and stay here and never find love and either die in a hate crime or be lonely the rest of my life. It feels terrible. You all have girlfriends and boyfriends and significant others and husbands and wives to be paired with. I have nobody. No one. I don't seem like the kind of person who wants love so badly, but I am. Beneath my cool, logical exterior is a lonely romantic. I'm trapped inside myself and I can't get out. I just want to be loved.
I want to know you for the rest of my life, second crush. I want to stay with you. I could totally be your roommate in college. The spot is open for me. I know it is. But do know one thing. The one thing that I would kill myself over would be the crush I have on you. I know you're straight. You told me so. You're not interested. You told me so. I'm your friend. You told me so. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! But I can't stop the wheels from turning. I wish you were gay. I wished so hard for so long, and not one of my wishes came true. I learned that wishing is for children. If you want something to happen, you have to go out and make it happen. Coincidences aren't. I wish I could have you, but I can't. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's nature. It's unstoppable. I need to let go and move on to something. I don't know what. I think Pittsburgh. I need to let go of you and move onto Pittsburgh. There, I'll meet more people I have no shot with. I'll feel even worse about myself and maybe one day I'll come home and find that nothing has changed. My parents will still get drunk, you'll still be straight, and everyone will still have a pair, except me. I'll still be too scared to say things I need to say, and I'll still have the crush that won't die. But I can't. I have to get away. I have to get out. I have to get out of this city, this county, this state, this country, this planet, this solar system, this galaxy, this cluster, this universe. I have to get out of my goddamned head!
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