Every Single Dark Thing 

             I did it. I finally told my friends what was going on. From my moms cancer to my work/immigration related problems. I felt guilty. That I was blocking them out. That I wasn’t talking to them. And maybe deep down I thought that they could help me. In a way. So I wrote a very long letter. 

             I explained everything. How it all started, how I felt, how I feel they should have tried harder to talk to me. Every single dark thing I was feeling. I wrote it down. Then sent it through group chat. It was very relieving. But at the same time I was scared to death. 

             But all of this was because of Moneque. I saw her today before she leaves for Alaska. She just came back from a rave in Vegas. She’s everywhere. And somehow we are supper close, yet not best friends. You know that person who you don’t see very often, yet you have this unspoken connection and will bare all too? Yeah her. 

             I told her  everything and she listened. She told me that I should just tell them also. What else did I have to lose? I was slowly losing them anyway. And they were slowly losing me. 

             So now I’m waiting for a response. What will they say? Will they blame me? Will they apologize for not trying hard enough? For not asking what was going on? Or will they ignore me just as I had ignored them? 

Pity Party 

             My birthday is just a couple of weeks away and I could not be any less excited. Don’t get me wrong, another year has gone by and I’m still here, yay for me. Well, my birthday lands two days after my moms surgery, or my moms surgery lands two days before my birthday. Don’t really know how I would frase that. 

             Either way that whole sentence in its fullness sound ridiculous. Yes, I could say that if everything goes well with the surgery, I could celebrate while on my birthday. But I’ll be taking care of my mom then, so no time to drop it as if it was hot. Plus I don’t like to party. Dance? Only in private or in the shower. Sing? In the car, or in the shower. Drink? Only mixed and sweat please. . .and in the shower.  

             I know as the days go by my mood is changing for the better. I’m just waiting for this roller coaster to go up, way up, then come crashing down again. But, we’ll see. Time will tell. 

             One of my long time acquaintances said we should get together since we have the same birth month. I agreed seeing as I haven’t seen her for about seven months and I need some socialization before I retreat back into my shell. She’s really nice and even though I’ve been pushing everyone away she’s always been bugging and bugging me to talk to her. I appreciate that very much. So maybe I’ll see her Thursday. If one of us doesn’t flake. 

             My other friends. Eli and Jenny said we should do something for my birthday. I haven’t seen Jenny in six months now, doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on in my life. Eli, I saw her maybe a month ago, and told her what’s going on. I had expected her to understand. But she seems to have forgotten because she never really asks me how my mom has been doing. I told them that I didn’t want to waste their time. Of course, like any friend, they mechanically said that wasn’t the case. Eventually I stopped responding to the group text. 

Maybe I’ll though my own party, I’ll cry and laugh about my problems.

             Though, I don’t need a fucken cake or balloons. I don’t need presants or gifts. I need support. I need comfort. I need reassurance. I understand they want to have fun but, yo, I got problems, and finding how to celebrate my birthday isn’t one. I was going to tell them, but then they would have thought that I wasn’t that appreciative of them, since they were so “thoughtful”, but I didn’t. They probably think that anyway. One day they will know the difference. I miss them. I miss the old me too. Life goes on. 

             Talked to my brother about him being more responsible. He said he would try. We’re all in this together. Told him I didn’t want to end up like one of those distant families that are all torn apart. 

             One of my friends (or the one friend I have) from church says he wants to go to the surgery for support. That’s what I’m talking about! But yet I feel like he still hides stuff from me. I mean we’re not dating but still friends tell each other everything right? Maybe I can’t be pleased? Who knows. 

             Tomorrow I’m going out of town for work related training. It’s about three towns over. Sounds like I live in deserted place, but I swear it’s SoCal. 

Anyway that’s enough of me mumbling about what’s going on. I’ll mumble some more later. 

My Story

             I have been putting a lot of thought into whether or not I should write this. I came to the conclusion that I should. Not because it has ‘‘gotten better”, but, because I feel like I just need to get it out of me. I feel that if it comes out, even in writing, it will be out. It’s not an easy matter to talk about. And it took me quite a while to actually sit down and write about it. After I decided I would write about it, I procrastinated sitting down and actually doing. When you try to remember the past, and it’s not pretty, you can only take so much at a time. But here it is;

             I grew up in a religion where I was taught that taking ones life would result in disconnecting with God. In other words, it was like giving a back-handed slap to the face of God since he was the creator of life and was the only one who deserved to give and take of it. As a child I always wondered why someone would ever come to that terrible decision. It wouldn’t fit in my little kid brain why someone would just want to die. I heard of people killing themselves when I was young but I never fully grasped the meaning of it until I got older.

            I do now. Even though I’m writing this I can’t fully say that I am completely over self harming. I can’t say that I have no more suicidal thoughts. I have though, learned to control them.

             But how did it all start? Well, I never really knew I was different. Yes I remember buying sparkling shoes that I got made fun of because they were “girly”, but that had nothing to do with my sexuality. At least I didn’t think so. I just knew that one day I would grow up, marry, and have kids. That was so ironic seeing as I didn’t want to get married or have kids.

             Back to my religion though, I grew up in this religion where you had to live your life exactly how the Bible said you should. (Jehovah Witness). It isn’t as hard as people think it is. It’s not to bad, and maybe I would have had some great teen years if I hadn’t turned out to be fucking gay. That pretty much ruined my life. Not completely, but enough. It’s one of the main causes of my pain if I’m brutally honest. Still to this day.

             I hate when people say “it gets better.” No it fucking does not. It hasn’t for me at least. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself? But at the end of the tunnel I see no light, I see no fucking tunnel.  But then again, maybe that’s me getting ahead of my self and my “better times” have yet to come.

             Anyway, I was in and out of this religion. I would go with a passion and then I would hate it with a passion. I never really made up my mind. Not even today. Today I just go, not for me or anyone else but for my mom. It makes her happy that I’m there and that makes me happy.

             I “came to terms” with my sexually on Nov 17th of 2010. That’s the day that I said I’m Gay. Before then I had never actually said it out loud. I knew I was but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. Sometimes I thought I could change being gay, but it never worked. That was the actual first time that those words came out of my mouth. In that order, “I’m gay.”

             I remember going on-line and searching ‘Gay Jehovah Witness.’ I had the impression that I was the only one in this religion in the whole world who was gay. I was wrong. After looking past many articles that threw shade and dirt at JW’s for not accepting the gays, I found an article about Tim. He was also a JW. Grew up in the same religion and his father was actually an Elder (People who are like pastors). There was an email address and I emailed him. Telling him how hard it was for me because I was gay and I was scared to come out because so many people would be disappointed, and ultimately I would be disowned felt good. Plus, at that time I had no legal status so how would I even fend for my self?

             I loved my mother too much to break her heart that way. But Tim said it was all too much for him so one day he almost took his life, well actually tried but didn’t succeed. He said he had to change his life after he tried killing himself. He couldn’t take it any longer so he left the religion. I understand his decision. But I was not yet there (still am not) and even though it was extremely hard I still was not even close to the thought of taking my life. We would email back and forth and it was encouraging to have some one to talk to who understood. Then, he stopped.

            That crushed my heart. But I guess he got bored or maybe had more important things on his mind than helping out a seventeen year old across the world he didn’t even know. I knew was getting married and was moving so maybe that’s why but still, could have said something.

            Of course being in the religion that I was in and also being gay wasn’t going to work out. So I left. I stopped going and it broke my mother’s heart. I was still the same person nothing changed. I just didn’t act any more gayer. I didn’t go to pride. I didn’t hook up with every guy in town. I just simply stopped going to church. I was the same old me.

             I don’t know what made me go back. Maybe because I never found love? Or deep down I hated myself for being gay when I knew it was wrong? Not sure. But months when I returned in the summer of 2011, my uncle and aunt asked if we wanted to spend the summer with them.  (Take in mind that they too were JW’s). My brother and I said yes of course. They lived in our home town where I grew up and it was a beautiful town, I cherished that town.

             So I went to the congregation there. While I went there, I was being pressured into dating. Who I liked would always arise in a conversation. I finally gave in and picked someone. A girl I knew since I was little.

             It’s funny at the time I felt straight. Or possibly thought I could be. I can honestly say that I thought I was, right then and there. Deep down I knew I was gay, but I was faking it all so well that I almost started to believe it myself.

             The girl that I ‘liked’ had an ex boyfriend who was tragically messed up. I think he was bipolar. (Now I think I am). He once wrote the name of a girl on his arm with scissors. That didn’t surprise us because we kind of all knew he was cutting himself. Everyone told him to stop and they got him help. I thought that was ridiculous and immature not knowing that I would be following the same footsteps.

             Summer ended and the day after I left town I told that girl I liked liked her. She said the same thing but didn’t know if I felt the same way. How cute. Wrong. We soon started dating. Long distance dating. Wasn’t that cleaver? We broke up about seven months after. I was the one to end it. I told her I “needed time.” But the truth was that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Guys still would look appealing to me. I did love her though. I don’t know in what way. But it really hurt when we stopped talking. There was something missing in me now. She was my first love.

              From there it was just a spiral of hate. My life wasn’t going too well and I had to deal with the fact that I was gay. I played the happy guy for so long until I couldn’t take it. There was so much pain. I didn’t want to feel it. I was jogging that night. In our back yard. I was so overwhelmed that I just got on the ground and started crying. I was so mad on how my life was turning out to be. The next ting I knew I was picking up a rock and sliding it along my arm. It felt as all the pain was running out of the fresh wound.  For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel pain inside, I felt it on the outside. A minor distraction fooling my brain into a better state of mind.

            I didn’t think about it. Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like? Maybe I was curious? Maybe it was the feeling of wanting to touch fire but knowing you were going to get burned anyway. It was like that feeling you get when something isn’t working so you bang it on the side to make it work, like an old static TV. I knew it was wrong but I still did it. In a way it made me feel better. Like I was in control of the pain and the pain stopped controlling me.

             After that the thought of suicide would come and go for me. I always thought of ways I could end my life but I could never go through with them because I always thought of my mom and brother. Who would look after them? Who would protect them? Who would guide them? What would they do when I was gone? What would their reactions be? These questions only added to the already huge pile of stress I had. So it was more like a game. Did I want a painless death? Or did I want to feel pain? How did I want to be found? Who would find me? I am such an over analyzer that I was even over analyzing my own suicide! How pathetic. Well, I guess that’s why I’m still here, right?

             I got in to the habit of measuring how suicidal I felt. Some days it was 25% others it was 75%. When it was high I made sure I stayed away from sharp things because it seemed that I would go deeper. And in all of my scenarios, death in a pool of blood never seemed to suit me.

             One time, and the only time, I had been at 85% I  had self harmed my wrist really noticeable. I had to work the next day and a coworker saw. Her name was Jessica. She asked me what happened. I had wristbands on. Twenty One Pilots. I said nothing and just continued working like it didn’t bother me. She didn’t ask again. A month later I quit so I never saw her. She probably still works there. Her seeing my cuts didn’t make me quit.

             I’m pretty sure a lot of people noticed. I think Eli noticed once but never really paid attention or just waved it off, not sure if jenny ever did. I think Hellen did once, on my knee. She asked what where those scrathes I just told her I played to rough with my dog. Did anyone else say anything? No.

             I haven’t self harmed for almost nine months now. That’s only because I’m getting a tattoo removed and I read that having cuts or bruises will take the body’s focus away from helping eliminate the tattoo. I get an overwhelming urge but I always see my tattoo on my arm and how much I want it gone. At first it was hard to resist. But I soon got over it little by little. Hopefully I will never go back but that feeling will always be there.

             Maybe I’m bipolar. Maybe life as made me this way. Maybe I have made me this way. I see people go through shit and still have a smile on their face. Then again I don’t know what they do when they get home. Maybe they to self harm. In different ways. Drinking, smoking, hurting others. That’s the same as self harm. Inflicting pain somewhere else so the present pain will subside, but it never does, does it?

              So, that’s pretty much it. I am almost twenty-three years old and still haven’t come to terms with almost any part of my life. It’s weird. Because when I see a girl and I really like her personality I do think, wow she would make a great wife, or, I wonder what it would be like to date her.  So maybe I’m bisexual? Pan-sexual? It doesn’t really matter. My sexuality doesn’t defined me. Plus, would I even want to date anyone knowing all the shit my life as turned into? Yeah, they would have to be some type of super human to put up with me. Plus all the world wants is sex, and I just want to be held and taken care of.

Anyway there it is. The truth, raw, candid, and straight to the point.

Work In Progress 

            I took a nap late in the afternoon and now I can’t sleep. So, hello Internet, what’s good? 

             Well, after last week I didn’t know if I would be going to work this week. (Immigration issues). I didn’t want to write about it until I knew I was for sure going to stay. I talked to Jose and he said all the paperwork was sent to HR and if it was important they would have responded so he’s just going to leave it like that. Better for me! 

             Plus, he said were not doing anything wrong. It’s not like it’s fraud or anything. My application was submitted, it was accepted, and now I just need my work permit to arrive. It’s taking awhile. Thanks Trump. *Rolls eyes* 

             Speaking of Jose I also talked to him about my moms surgery. Not a lot of people at work know about it. Just him my supervisor and a close coworker. It’s official. It will be June 27th.

             Yes, I’m nervous and scared but I’m hopping for the best. I asked for that day plus the rest of the week off. And seeing that July the Forth is the following Tuesday (and we have it off) I asked for Monday off as well. He said it was cool. He even asked if I needed more time off. I said that was enough, I do need to pay bills. We will have some help from family and friends. No doubt that this summer will be overwhelming to say the least but I just want my mom to get better. 

             I apologized to Gabriel for not going to his graduation party. He said it was ok, that there was no need to apologize. He knows me and knows that I’m not much of a talker. I have to trust and know you 100% to let my feelings out. Or else I’m the equivalent to a rock. Though, I need to stop doing that. Saying I’ll go somewhere and not show up. I should at least say something. Work in progress I suppose. 

             I have been watching a lot of videos about shin splints. (Leg injuries). I really want my legs to get better so I can continue to run. There is so much that has to do with your leg muscles and all that stuff. How to run right, step right, the right shoes, and even having sturdy hips. Who knew? I’ll work on it though. Need to get back to running as fast as I can. 

              I’ve also been working on some posts. Letters mainly. I can’t send them to the people that they are written for but I feel getting it out there is a start. Maybe someday I’ll tell them that I have a blog? I have also been working on my own story. Mainly like a miniseries of posts about my main struggles. It’s dark and it’s taking me a while. But I feel good after it’s out there, written down and I’m not carrying it with me. Make sense? Maybe. But for now I shall sleep.

Good night Internet. 
              

             

Worst Person Ever 

            So yesterday I was supposed to go to my best friends graduation party. He’s my best friend (only friend I guess) but I’m not sure if I’m his best friend. He’s very popular and very well known. Very sociable. 

            I can’t help but think I’m the worst person ever. All day yesterday I looked for what I could give him as a gift. I got him an emoji pillow and a notebook that has line, graph, and blank paper. Along with pencils and erasers. 

            I put them in the gift bag and I was ready to go. But I actually never even went. I didn’t go. My anxiety got the best of me. It took over. How cruel is that? I didn’t go to my own best friends grad party? Do I even have a heart? 

            First, I started thinking about all the people that would be there. I had asked him before and he said he didn’t know. His parents did the invites. They even did the party at one of his other friends house because there was more space, even though his house is pretty big. Yes, I was anxious. 

            Second, I wasn’t going to talk to anyone there. Yes, I would have probably known some of them, but I’d doubt they would have come up to talk to me. They don’t at church, why at a party? Gabriel had already apologized before hand saying he was sorry if he didn’t even get a chance to talk to me because he would be so busy. I understand that. He has to greet and conversate with all his guests. Thank them for coming and the gifts and what not. 

            Third, with all that’s going on I didn’t even feel like partying. Or being social. I could barley talk to a wall. I felt like running. I wanted to run as fast as I could until not being able to feel my legs. So that’s what I did. I went outside and walked for maybe two hours. It felt good. 

            Forth, well, I am kind of jealous. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy for him. He’s graduated, has his college paid for, got a car from his parents, has a house to live in, got a grad party, he has it all. Does he deserve it all? I would say yes every time. He’s a cool guy. I mean, I haven’t scared him away like Eli and Jenny, yet

            I just look at my life and ask why? I have done so much and yet my life sucks. There is so much struggle. When I told Eli that my mom has breast cancer she started crying, asked the same thing. “Why are you always going through all these bad things?” she had asked. It’s like I’m plagued with some curse that won’t let me live in peace. 

            Maybe you need to try harder? Trust me, I have tried. I have given this life all I have. I have worked for everything I have. I have been the father figure for my brother. I was the strength for my mother when our father left us even when I myself couldn’t bare. In the bad times I have always worn the face of courage. I have been the strength for my family that has kept us moving forward. But I feel that inside it has all eaten me away. 

            I have been the nicest person to the meanest of people. I have helped those who wouldn’t even lend me a hand. But where is karma? Has she mistaken me for some one else?  Has she forgotten the rules to her own game? Has she taken a break? A short little vacation? Or has she simply retired letting life rule over us all? 
            Now I have to find a way to apologize to Gabriel. I don’t know how to explain to him what I feel. Maybe how I wrote it on here but it just wouldn’t be the same.