gayNwyo

Her legs danced far above my head. She swung them sweetly to and fro, parting them gently and briefly and then crossing them back. She poked her head over the edge. "Why did you say those things? I took you out for ice cream hoping maybe we could have a nice time. Thanks for ruining it." She disappeared. Her form passed through the cracks of the two by fours that made up the tree fort. "I'm sorry, really." I attempted to be sincere, but again my mouth ran amok. "I just wanted to know if maybe I wasn't the only boy you'd done... what we did... with...." I was getting sloppy. She didn't say a word. Footing myself on the bark of the tree, I began climbing. "Are you apologizing? Do you really think that... of me... that I would...?" She struggled too, and she began to sob. When girls turn on the water works, it's all over. I needed to say something valiant, something heroic. Something that would make her smile, or laugh, or do any...

The next morning was surreal and silent, save for the quiet hustle of the river some distance away. I awoke first. His face was so alive, it struck me so as he slept. Perfection, I thought. He was beautiful, rugged, pure, strong and serene. I watched him for only moments, before he awoke. I couldn't speak or face him. I slipped away to the river to sort myself out. Aside from my routine morning erection, I was in love with this boy. He was in love too, for awhile. He sat next to me, by the river, silent and intensely so. There beside me... No words were exchanged for days. He was hoping I'd be gay with him. And vice versa.

As I sat across from Jill, she delicately caressed her banana split with a long plastic spoon. I thought about how stupid I had been in the weeks before. "Good, huh??" She chirped. "Yeah, great!" I rang back. My spirit soared. Here I sat with her, the girl who haunted me so seductively, casually lapping up ice cream. "What do you say, after we finish these bananas and ice cream, we go get more apples from the tree for my mom??" She had been thinking about asking for awhile, and so had I. I sucked in a quick breath. By now that tree must be bare... Without a split second thought, I blurted out. "So how many boys have you had up your tree?" She blinked with puzzlement. "How many boys...?? Up my what...???" "Do you take other boys up to pick apples?" Were these words really spouting out of my mouth?? "How many others have seen your shoe box full of naughty pictures??" My audacity surprised me. My pulse quickened. She sp...

Mom went about her days and let me go about mine as if nothing in the least was wrong. I walked Al every morning and night, watched movies, read comic books and played video games. And while I did so, I plotted. I thought about each question I was going to ask Jill, right down to the question marks themselves. Late one Saturday night, after mom was almost passed out, I crept out of bed and edged my way down the stairs. The steps creaked in the middle so I slid down the wall with my back pressed against it. Mom was a light sleeper, even if she'd had a couple before she hit the sack. She did like her evening mixes. My destination was Jill's window. On the ride home with mom I'd made a point to remember the way back to her house. It was dark and the entire layout had changed. I was on an adventure, determined to get up to the glass, tap on it very romantically and convince Jill to go back to that tree. As I started out that night, the stars seemed to sigh Jill's name. The ...

"Why are you spilling this all over the internet, so late at night?" He asked. "Because someday, this will be all that's left of me. I need to share my sinful, shameful stories, my late night confessions. Even if no one reads them. I need them out there, out of my mind and soul." He understood. 

Joel was seventeen years my senior. The older man. He was sweet, shy, tender and trusting. He craved an intimate and meaningful relationship. And sweet sex. But he never stayed for long. We had intense passion between us. Sex or not. But he had deep, buried shame that kept him from connecting. Joel, I loved our time together.

Ryan's heart was on fire that day, because he was with Brian. "You must be so happy today?" Brian noticed. "You can feel it?" Ryan asked. "Yes, you're radiating it..." "It's because I'm with you." Ryan confessed. They talked, and shopped together, and had sushi by the river. They returned home. Kisses were exchanged. Brian left, never again to return.

Scared in the dark closet, understanding that the monsters are there, waiting to pounce. Waiting for that exact breath that brings them out of silence. Fear that begins to restrict his lungs, as the intensity for each silent gasp of air builds under the realization that the monsters are already in... Panicked in the dark, they begin to creep out, not from the corners or the crevices. But from the lungs, and the brain, through each and every part of his body and soul.

He hadn't been through all this madness for nothing. He hadn't faced death and denial and defeat to be undone now.  No. He had places to go, yet, and things to do.  Not sure exactly where, yet, but there was some place, somewhere. Somewhere. Something, and perhaps, someone... Should he wait for that? Should he look for that? Should he settle and accept? Should he move on and be alone again, to perhaps be alone for the remainder of his life? His heart told him this was a very real possibility. For if there were something, or someone out there for him, it or they, must accept him for exactly who and what he was. For that was something quite rare, for him to find the ultimate outright acceptance from someone else. On all levels.

"Fuck you and your book, and your slippers, too! Take them all and get out of my house!!!" Suddenly it had all become hers, and I was doing all this to her. As if I was just a stationary object that had been inconveniently place in her way, a burden. As if nothing whatsoever had been happening to me. I hadn't already been through everything. I had faced down my old, own demons. I'd just chose to share them with her, after the fact. I thought that the burden would somehow be shifted, or lifted, or dealt with in a way that may save me, or both of us, from something so much more than either of us ever imagined.  This was too much for either of us to ever recover from. It could take years. It had been months already and he still hadn't let her touch him. Not truly, not at the intimate level that would ever mean anything at all. He felt that intimacy would never really be there again, ever, Even if he wanted it. He had laid his soul bare, there with her, and she was no...

Lance was a bit lonely. And horny. He was a chubby daddy with a sweet fat D. I let him in. We rolled around naked, and then some... He regretted the next morning. He had cheated. Sweet, lonely Lance.

Silence can breed a loneliness that can be inviting and comfortable. Then again, silence can become an addiction as well. Loneliness. Loneliness is knowing that if you step out into the world people may insult and shame you for being who you are. Loneliness is not accepting the company of others because you fear being wounded by what they may have to offer, share, or say to you. Loneliness is fearing the people you love the most. Loneliness is not trusting a single soul in the universe. Not even your own. Loneliness is falling asleep alone and waking up alone. Loneliness breeds time for the devils to work within your mind and make promises they don't intend to keep.

Kent and Randy's relationship changed after that evening and morning. Kent knew that Randy had offered more than a friendship, and Randy knew that Kent would never cross over that line. And so it was the end of another remarkable friendship, quickly undone and unmade, with six simple words. "Or know what's being offered you?" Kent was a skinny hippie with long brown locks like I was. We were approached once by a perverted older man and asked if we'd like to make a porno with him.  Friends, of whom Kent had many, called him Jesus. For he did so look like Jesus.  He had a true handle on who he was as a person and what he wanted in life.  He created magic on stage with Randy, and the chemistry was undeniable. 

Kent had no issues with any side of his personality. He was no ones fool and he lived by his own rules. He had an open book sort of nature about him. Randy could read this book by simply looking at him. His book was bewitching. But they were friends, and that's all that there ever was. Yet, Randy had fallen in love with Kent, through the years. It was an evolutionary kind of friendship, trusted and true, best friends in crime, sometimes. But never lovers. After three years, Randy offered Kent his love, after an all night camp out with several friends. They all shared ecstasy, marijuana and cigarettes. Randy remembered hearing and seeing epic stories around a dancing night fire, the earth pulsing, and him, confessing his love for Kent at dawn, over a smoking pile of ashes.

"Anyone who has ever been a piece of my heart already knows." Ryan explained. "So nothing should hurt anymore. Nothing." He knew this wasn't true. He had a whole world of hurt ahead of himself. So frightening that he may not have just made that point, of nothing. There must be a point where shame no longer follows you around, he thought to himself. "Did you consider that there are those out there that may hurt, use, or despise you, still? There will be hurt and there will be pain, and a bit of anguish. It will all come in time, but never when you'll be expecting it. So, on with you, my beautiful, boyish man child...."  She'd struck a nerve, a nerve in my heart, connected directly to my soul.

"Where do I even begin with you?!" Rosalie screeched at Randy from three steps away. When she got feisty and serious, it was venomous.  Randy answered back. "What do you mean? What do you think I'm hiding?? I've told you everything there is to tell..." His voice trailing off into silence and darkness. I said one thing more, then nothing else. Rosalie was completely deaf. She could understand nothing from me, unless she was looking directly at my lips. This had it's advantages, and disadvantages. Mostly advantages. 

Question... Back when, were you sort of into me? Yes sir, I was! Really? Yes! Can I ask why? Even though I'm straight. There was just something sexy and vulnerable about you. You were so honest and whole and genuine. We're you trying to turn me? And, yes, I'm honest to a fault. No. You can't turn what isn't. If only girls could see that. And to be honest, of it wasn't for the sex stuff, I thought about it. We could've snuggled. Maybe. But I understand. At least it was a thought. That means a lot. Thank you! A friend of mine who might be bi tried that once. He slept in my bed with me. I've done that before and it didn't bother me at the time. But afterward I started thinking and it made me uncomfortable. Trust your gut. Everyone is innately bisexual. I'm a touch centered person, and that touch, after the fact, was weird.  I get that. I mean, I've been overseas and we had to shower together and all that and there was a playful brotherhood vibe,...

The birthday party was elaborate. Neighborhood parties always are. Kids were invited that weren't really Jill's good friends, but when there's a birthday party, friendship or no friendship, everyone was invited. Balloons and streamers, confetti and silly string, noisemakers and even a Twister layout were part of the festivities. At twelve, some of these things still held fun, but I was more focused on Jill. Jill's mother had delivered the homemade apple pie, much to my relief and mom's surprise. But Jill seemed much too busy entertaining her numerous guests to pay the slightest attention to me. This is what Al must feel like sometimes. She hardly glanced my way for hours. Poor Al, he'll probably croak soon. Seating arrangements grouped us accordingly around a massive picnic table, with none other than a red gingham printed tablecloth. Boy it sure was mesmerizing. I tried to distract myself by stuffing German chocolate cake in my face. A dopey boy with thick glas...

"You should write about the pain, your pain. Get it out there, in black and white. Even if no one ever reads it but you. Get it out..." She encouraged.  So I did. All ugly things. All of them.  It felt amazing. 

"You look like a girl, walk like a girl and talk like a girl. You stupid faggot!" He said as he passed me outside by the football field. I was 13.  Words cut deep... I was still a boy, underneath it all.

"It's the things you've forgotten, dear Randy, that you need to remember again. Time has a way of making you bitter and estranged to almost everyone around you. You need to forget about the hurt and the pain, and the resulting anger. You need to forget your loses and see your gains. You must forget the longings and the lusts. You must, you must, forget."  Victoria paused, allowing Randy to absorb the words, then went on. "You must remember the good that is within you, always. Never truly buried, always a glowing ember of truth among the ashes of time, emotions, trauma and psychic connections. You must always and forever remember the light inside you. Let it shine brightly for all to see."

They all four stopped into K-Mart on one mission. To find sexy underwear and many condoms. Many. On the road trip back to their summer of dreams resort village, Pahaska Teepee. They all worked there for the summer, each alone with their partner of choice in a cozy little cottage of tiny conjoined log cabins. We all had our naughty little minds whirling with wicked delights, and all of them were fulfilled that sinful summer. The summer of 97, July. I was seventeen years young.  Sex, every night. Some times two or three times. Morning sex. Afternoon sex. Quickies on breaks and the lunch and dinner hours.  Sweet afternoon sex with only the afternoon rain showers as background noise. Sweet summer rain air in the lungs made for beautiful orgasms. 

"Let's get right down to the real nitty gritty here, shall we?" She spoke forwardly and sternly. "Is this your first psychological evaluation? Have you ever done anything like this before?"  "No." Randy answered simply.  "What had he gotten himself into??" He thought to himself. "This should take roughly an hour or so. Answer all of the questions as best you can. Shall we begin? Are you ready? You can relax... You look tense." "I'm good to go, let's get it over with." Randy answered back, doing his best not to look tense. "Is there any history in your family of mental illness, anxiety, depression or disorders of the mind?" Randy hesitated, then responded. "Where shall I begin...?"

Benny would return randomly, late at night. He'd knock on my door and want sweet, soft kisses. So I obliged.  It took all I had not to jerk off while at it. But he wasn't about the nasty, grunty man stuff. He wanted soft, sweet, simple kisses. So we kissed, for hours. My erection pulsed and ached and my balls felt as if they were being squeezed ever so gently. I needed release, and it had been some day or so since I had. The tip of my penis slid under his shirt and the pee hole of my urethra touched his belly button. I burst, all over his sweet, smooth abs. I quaked and quickly melted into his chest. He promptly stood up and left. Sweet Benny.

"You are just like me, Ryan!" She rolled over and jerked the bedspread after her, closing out any hope for intimacy that night. "You are just like me!" Repeating herself for emphasis.  I was convinced that she was right at the time, but would come to realize much later how wrong she was. We were nothing alike. And when she had wasted so much time and energy trying to convince both of us she was, she finally realized it too, and gave up and let go.  She couldn't change me, but she had tried. And I had tried to change for her. Valuable life lessons, learned the hard way. She'd yell and scream and thrust her hips from side to side. She'd say things. "Why won't you look at me!?! Why don't you say something!?!" I'd shut down and curl up on the bed and bury my face during those episodes. "Are you depressed? What's wrong with you?" She had built me up in her mind over the last five years. I wasn't who she thought I was at...

So, yesterday, when I was going to make the last of my deliveries around campus, a drunk Indian man hit on me. Told me I was cute, put his arm around me and followed me a little too close. I ran him over with my delivery cart and laughed about it later. He was creepy. He kept saying, "Ryan, you're cute," and, "Ryan, be nice to me." I about punched the shit out of him. I've been hit on by guys before, with this was extreme, threatening and disgusting. I directed him where he wanted to go and told him to have a nice day. Should've called campus security or something. But as for how upset I was, I think I did very well not knocking his drunk ass out. Reason number 378 to leave this sorry town: Gay Drunk Indians.

As he laid on the beach, soaked and gasping for breath, he noticed how still the lake was suddenly. Not as it had been in the violent moments before. Looking out across the silvery spread before him, there was no sign of a disturbance, no bubbles, no ripples. No evidence. He'd left nothing behind. It was all buried now, deep under the silvery mass of water.  All he had to do now was to let the searing sun dry out his clothes, walk down the road to where he'd left his car, and drive back to the woman he'd fallen for. No more secrets, no more lies, no more double lives. He'd made a mistake with her and she'd tightened the noose a little too tight around his neck. He had just removed it.  They were down there somewhere, slowly swelling with water. She and his unborn child. And he was headed for his place in the sun. 

There was silence. There was stillness. And a sudden peace as she looked out across the prairie of waving grass. She was alone now, the only soul for miles. It was a welcoming feeling, and a liberating one, to be suddenly and completely alone. No more disrupting and threatening sounds from the room down the hall. The gurgling had stopped. The moans of anguish had ceased.  The landscape just outside the window stretched out for miles. A single cloud far across the distance was the only disruption in a sky of pure aquamarine.  She really hadn't the mindset before to notice. Was this really her backyard? She'd seen it before, millions of times. But now it had beauty, depth, space and vivid color. A blackbird soared, ducking wings, diving, then disappearing entirely. The landscape was hers now. He was finally gone, dead. She was free.

And then there was nothing. For the longest time. Only silence and the darkness. And just when that silence and darkness came to be familiar and comfortable, they too were gone. I wasn't alone. I knew I wasn't. It was like that feeling you get when you come out of a deep sleep and you haven't opened your eyes yet, but you know there is someone standing over you, looking at you. It was like that. Maybe I'd met them before. Maybe I knew them. Maybe they were coming back to meet me and were trying in some way to reach out and help me. They weren't human, I knew that. But they had presence, a demanding and familiar presence. I had had experiences with spirits before. But nothing this intense, nothing this real. Nothing this overwhelming. But I wasn't frightened, more humbled and paralyzed. Subdued and frozen. If only my mind would take over and jerk my body awake.

You are the piece of a scattered puzzle. One with so many lost pieces. I'm happy to have found you. You may not fit, and you may not stay. But that's okay. I like you that way. You're grooved in all the right places. And worn just enough to play with. But, at the end of the day, you may just be thrown away. And that's okay. Uncertainty is life's only certainty. That seems so contradictory.  Yet some how satisfactory. We may be tossed aside today, and that's okay. So, let's play for awhile, cares to the wind. A few precious moments let's spend. It's okay, just stay. Two mismatched pieces, finding a temporary place to fit. And it's okay.

As much as I thought I wouldn't miss Katie. I do, terribly. I get lonesome sometimes now. She became someone I started to need, just as she began to leave. My father says that I should stay with her and keep her in my life. It's hard. Already it's hard. I thought I was pretty self reliant and, "oh, I don't need anybody in my life," but I do. Really. Just when I get on my feet, make a home somewhere and think I know what I want, I wake up and realize I know nothing at all. I don't know what I want, where I want to go, or even what I want to be. To be here, like this, now. Shakespeare is scaring me. I need to pull out. I can't afford it on an emotional level, I don't have it in me to create another character. I feel burned out and overwhelmed. I want so much more than what I've got, yet I'm content to just be here for now. I need to hide, run, get out. I hurt every time I turn around. People hurt. Life hurts. Now hurts. I hurt. And the strang...

"I'd rather have three years on earth with him, than an eternity with you." That's how deep the love was.  Yes, and that's how it played out here on earth, with eternity supposedly waiting for us on the other side... Supposedly. 

He consulted with a pack of tarot cards and his bank account, and simply decided that he couldn't afford me anymore... Then he broke up with me, like he was dropping off a library book. He couldn't help it though. He lacked any ability to feel things, deeply. He had the empathetic capacity of a flea, emotionally void of empathy.

The sparks are back, and I'm so incredibly grateful about that. They come and they go, but I believe they have returned to stay. I also believe that they have always been here, always. However, my ability to perceive them is based only in my belief of their existence. They pop in and out briefly, and coincide directly with my thoughts and emotions. They manifest to either confirm or deny these sometimes conflicting thoughts and emotions. They are there to give me direction. Mr. Sparks is what we would call him. We, as in my ex wife and I. "I saw Mr. Sparks last night." She had confessed to me. At the time she was still my young, new, fresh bride, starting a brand new and exciting life in the South, Asheville, North Carolina. "You can see him, too?" I asked. "Yes." She replied. Why we determined that Mr. Sparks was a he was uncertain, but we both felt there was a distinct male energy that accompanied his manifestations. I still have yet to determine who...

"He was some kind of a sucker, falling for every word that I said." "No, you were the fool, for you fell for him."

"You must do it now, while the semen is still fresh, warm and alive." He said. Mr. Gnashing is not at all what he seemed. It was only his end that was gnashing, sad and tragic. Semen it seems, is the most potent and toxic of all the liquids one could deliver, when it comes to casting spells and sealing deals. Of course it is! The powers of procreation lie in those fluids, why would it not be useful in other ways? This is madness, but it works. I need no convincing. I've seen the power of semen at play many times, and trust it to carry me through whatever may come in the future. "We were given strict instruction that those powers were sacredly endowed upon mankind for the express and exclusive use between a man and a woman for procreative purposes, and pleasure, alone!"  He laughed out loud, alone, for he knew otherwise.

T hey were mutual coworkers, they rarely talked, mostly just idle chit chat. Yet they met, outside to talk. Seriously. "I love him, still, despite all he's been through. He deserves love, like no other." She confessed. "You're a strong person, I don't know if I could do that." He admired the strength in this woman. "I know." She said. "There's always hope, when there's still love." He ended. 

When Jonah was on stage, he was a lightning storm of energy. Sharing the stage with him was exhilarating. Randy could feel the heat coming off him like a kerosene lamp if he stood close enough. Randy was grateful that the scenes they shared were spaced and brief, as Shakespeare would have it. Words and energies exchanged between us were far less as well, thank the stars.  The chemistry between he and I had me at half mast most of the time. The attraction I felt towards that man has been unequaled in heat and animal magnetism to this day. If only I registered then that we could have connected in some further way, then we already had. Imagine the fires we could have started if only we'd been alone together again, both of us willing, sober and aware. Not like the first time, but again, alone with one another, raw and free in the wilderness, to do wickedness.

"Why is theater so appealing to you?" He gayly asked, curious as ever. "Because I get to step out onto the stage and be someone else for awhile." Forget Ryan and all his problems. "To become someone imaginary, it's a form of escape."  He heard her wicked nastily, just inches away. "Running from who you are again, is it any wonder that the same things keep happening to you and you end up in the same place?!?" Her voice taunted and tortured him. "That's the definition of insanity, you know, my young one. You see life as always handing you lemons, when someone out there is dying for a few hundred gallons of lemonade. You poor, starving son of a bitch you! Burn it all up, just like that, wouldn't you, you ill conceived devil you!" Randy heard her shuffle off the stage, another spirit there to haunt his consciousness.  She would haunt him in that theater for years.

Is it any wonder, then, that Randy felt mad. He'd been feeling himself slipping for years now. There were nets along the way, that would catch him, temporarily, only to leave him hanging as those nets slowly unraveled themselves to leave him dangling in mid air, once again. He had fallen, so many times, into the depths, only to be left asking if these truly were the deepest of the deeps.  Then another chasm would gape open, suddenly again, to swallow he and his entire life up, not one, but several times more. Like an unending chapter in a wonderland book series. One fall, then a catch, then another fall, then a catch, then another fall, followed by yet another fumble and catch, fall, fumble, catch.  Like an endless dream where Randy is falling, convincing himself there must be a bottom somewhere, and surely the bottom would hurt much less than the continuous fall into oblivion that he was currently caught up in.  Falling, ever falling.

"I don't make it a habit of mine to discuss the habits of others." This was Jean's response whenever any of the other ladies in town rose the topic of rumors. Idle chatter in a small town. Or was it more? Was there more to this particular rumor than they all had supposed? No, surely not. If this was true, faith in him would be lost, and that would throw her over the brink of her sanity, and she knew it. Best not to believe the small town ladies and their filthy gossip, true or not.

Caroline was daffy and bright, she had the character and soul of an ancient wicked sister that taunted you with wicked awful hounds tales at night. Yet she had the courage of ten men. Caroline had decided to take a bath in her own blood, for no apparent reason at all. She slipped away into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Like she was simply slipping into another room to be alone for awhile.  She had gone in there to really get the job done. Had I not burst into the bathroom within the hour, she would've been dead. The water was crimson and she had smeared the walls up and down with her own blood. The smell of it was thick and sour.  She wasn't responsive, so I got everyone in the campus dorm rooms attention... "Help you guys! CAROLINE!!!" The EMT's took her away, finally conscious enough to speak. Laughing and ugly, she mocked me. "Why are you crying Ryan?!?"

He broke down and cried, cried like he hadn't in a very long time. He cried because he was soberly coming to the reality that his marriage was up in the air and it was entirely up to him where and how it landed. Some days he didn't care, some days he did. Now, he had nearly convinced himself that the marriage was over, that it wasn't worth the effort and that in order to be his true self he needed to admit that his desire to be with a man, in every sense of the word, was much stronger than his desire to stay with his wife and repair the damage that had been done there. When he returned home, the potential war zone awaiting him there may cause a relapse. This was his real fear, he supposed, going back to what was.

"Oh darling, nothing matters more than this. Only what you think of yourself." My fairy godmother always knew just what to say.

"Why would you say that he was abusive? After all that he has done for you, after all that he gave you...??" She was furious, in search of answers to gossip she'd obviously absorbed in this sick, small town. "He was, whether he realized it or not. It was the small things he'd say and do, in gesture and tone and obvious emotion. It wasn't so much about what he gave me, it was about the way he made me feel. He drained me. And I him."

He'd stalked him down, publicly. He wanted a showdown. "You have no power here, be gone, before I drop a house on you." It's a battle of words with the most of them. He fled, like the coward he was. 

"I saw a lot of pain and suffering in her eyes. She's got issues she needs to work on. Daddy issues are her biggest threats." Jody informed Randy after meeting privately with Katherine. Randy had always suspected that his father in law had effected his children, individually, in a negative but unintentional way, much the way his own father had done. Although it was no fault of their own, they were just naturally unaffectionate. "I can see that now, her father and I are alike in some ways. I always noticed a lack of emotion in him. It always angered me that both our fathers were cold and dismissive in nature. I did my best not to be that way. If I felt an emotion, I expressed it, immediately. I was deliberately emotional, immediately, to express how I felt, so there was no confusion. Always." "I can see that, you're raw and vulnerable, emotion is never lacking in you. Keep that quality." Jody concluded.

Dear Mike, Before I go, I feel I must let you know what a tremendous person I think you are. Not only did you believe in me at a point in my life when I couldn't believe in myself, but you opened up a door for me, and were my amazing, saving grace.  Every step of the way you were there for me, you've been my mentor and my friend. You provided an environment where my restless energy could be turned into something I could be proud of, inside the magical world of the theater. For all these things, and so many more, thank you! Ryan Luke Jevne

I can still love him, and let him go. I had no choice but to let him go. I do have the choice to continue to love, despite losing him. In fact, losing him only made me realize how much I do love him. How much, I couldn't have realized... until I'd actually lost and let go.  I believe that when someone truly and sincerely loves someone, that love never really ends, regardless of what they may choose to do. Unconditional love, despite circumstances and situational things. But, I could've been a better man along the way. I could've changed sooner. I could've sobered up sooner. But, the past is in the past. I changed for the better, he never changed at all. He was the same man the entire time. I don't blame him for letting me go, I'm surprised he didn't do it sooner.  I'm willing to admit that I was probably impossible to love. My sweet, lost love, Brian. 

"I hate to say it, but she's always so fucking happy when you leave..." He snickered in a way that suggested to me that he didn't hate to say it at all, he couldn't help himself.  My immediate thought was, well he must identify with her fucking happiness on some level, if he recognized that in her. So, on some level, he must be somewhat 'fucking happy' when I leave, too.

"You can't do it all by yourself, Ryan, you just can't." She was desperate to get through to me. "Everyone needs help sometimes, and it's okay to ask for help, there shouldn't be any shame in that. We aren't designed to be alone."

"You seemed happier in August, or maybe it was September. I was thinking maybe it had something to do with the medication you were on." Katherine wondered. "Should I need to be on medication to be happy?" Randy responded. "No, sometimes it helps, though, for a time." She replied. "I've been on so many different medications, it's hard to say. I'll check my stash to see when I get home. Maybe if I can find a bottle with August or September dates on them, I'll be the happier Randy I was then. The one that you seem to prefer." Randy ended.

"I've never been stable enough to manage a relationship." He confessed. "That's not true." She interjected. "You've managed relationships, with both sexes, some successful, and some not so. I think you're being too hard on yourself. Relationships are complicated. Give yourself some credit. You're obviously loved. You deserve love. You deserve happiness, with or without someone. You're the type to make sacrifices for those you love, others are not." She knew just what to say. "You're right. I've been loved, I am lucky to have had some pretty spectacular love affairs in my life. I can die happy knowing I had some of the best. I should keep that in perspective. Just because one went horrifically ugly, doesn't mean that another will do the same. Thanks for helping me to see that..." He concluded. And their session had ended. He was already looking forward to the next...

"Let's start with a word, a word that if used in my house, there would be an immediate smack down. An ugly and nasty word, one that wounds severely. I think you know the one." Jacob always knew how to get straight to business. "Faggot." Ryan let out... feeling the piercing pain inside that he felt every time he heard it. This time, from his own lips, it hurt, too. Even though he tried to prepare himself mentally. "That's the one. Now, I want you to close your eyes and think of a time when you first heard it said in your direction. Is there an image or a voice that pops up?" Jacob spoke in a soft but direct fashion that communicated the seriousness of the session they were about to dive into...

Ryan would isolate himself the moment he began to feel anything at all. Now he was isolating himself, alone on his rehab bed, writing.  He isolated because it was safer there. Removing himself from the blatant bullshit was the only way he could get some peace.  His mind would flood itself with the thoughts of others and the thoughts that were his own. It was too much to hear, too much to think about and far too much to begin to process. Isolation meant contemplation and safety. Venturing out into the uncomfortable world had only taught him to dislike and distrust those he came into contact with, which was just about everyone there. The world had changed for him, from bad to worse. And all the time to process, money, therapy and drugs wouldn't be enough to heal him.

Ryan, Happy Valentine's Day! It has been a whirlwind romance and I love getting to know you! Stay sexy Tiger. (growl) BRIAN

Ryan, Thank you for the ring and the socks, I am wearing them both at the moment. I want you to know that you have been a huge support for me. I know I have yet to do the real work of grieving, but just having you in my life has kept me sane. I love you Ryan. XOXO BRIAN   P.S. Hope you have a blast with the fam. Use my ring as a charm to stay sane.

I'd die for you. My place in this world seems to be black and blue. But one thing's for sure, if I had to, I'd die for you. Deep into your heart, there's a place I can run to. And I want you to know, if I had to, I'd die for you. I run in such fear, and I don't know what to do. But I'll tell you again, if I had to, I'd die for you. And the one thing I want you to know. Whatever you do, and where ever you go. If I had to, I would die for you. Ryan, I will always love you, always. Rita Rosalie

"Do you want me to not touch you, do you need some space? I know you're angry with me right now and that's okay..." Katherine was doing the best she could to restrain herself. She only had a few hours with Randy and she wanted to get a realistic feel for how he was doing in this foreign place with other addicts. "No, don't touch me, and yes, I need my space. I am trying really hard not to be angry with you, I am not and I am at the same time." Randy was completely honest with her. "I can understand that. You need some selfish space and time, and that's okay, too. Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you? I feel so bad, like this is all my fault." Katherine went on. "I just want to be home, yet I don't, you know? I know I need to work on myself, but it's so difficult having everything up in the air between us. I was told not to make any life changing decisions while I was here, or for a year after. How can I possib...

"Self acceptance is really what it's all about. Accepting and loving yourself, despite all the threatening obstacles that life may throw your way. As ugly and mundane as you may seem on your worst day, and as magnificent and powerful you may feel on your best day. To fully and unabashedly accept yourself, that's where you ultimately need to be. Some people go through their entire life never knowing, constantly seeking themselves. You, however, I can obviously tell, are on the great precipice of almost attaining that. You've been through too much to give up now. Too much to bow out on the final act of the story of your life, simply because you haven't gained the acceptance of one whom means ever so much to you, and always has. Don't let the curtain of your life's story come down without the much anticipated final act. Play on to those people who remain in the dark, play on to the ignorance that haunts your every last move... There you'll find some peace....

As Ryan lay there, nude in the warm and solid twilight, Keller admired his sleeping body, drawn to gaze upon him with wonder and curiosity. He felt blessed to be audience to such a display. Ryan had the perfectly imperfect body, simple, the way God created him. Totally free of any unnatural muscle, free of blemish or bruise, lines made of hips, backbone, buttocks and thighs, that formed a beautiful image of a boy, man. Ryan climaxed and then quickly fell asleep in the position he was now being gazed upon. Keller took in every inch and realized this would be all he would ever have of him, someday, the memory of how he looked, now, nude in twilight.

"When he kissed me, we crossed into another dimension, both of time & space." It was a disaster.  Time & space skip.  Disaster averted. Time traveling. 

"I'm walking out of your life, right now Ryan,  unless you give me a reason to stay!" He kissed her. She stayed. But not for long...

"Why wasn't I good enough for you?" He asked desperately.  "It's not that you weren't good enough, it's just that I just couldn't anymore." He surrendered.  They both immediately understood. 

"This is part of your journey, it always has been, whether you had chosen to ignore it your whole life or not. Perhaps you could have avoided the anxiety, depression, shame and guilt concerning your sexual identity if you had confronted your demons long ago." She said. "I feel I did. In a way. It wasn't as if I was running away or ignoring anything all this time. I didn't feel anything or anyone was missing from my life. I wasn't hiding anything. I just wasn't effected by it, so much as I am now in my life. Why now, at age thirty six am I finally able to admit to myself and others that I find men attractive? And not just any man, some men, a few, very select. It's not as if I am looking for a man to simply have sex with. It's more than that. It goes deeper than that, to the very core of who I am. I desire a real human, body and soul connection with a man. Does that make sense??" She was stunned, and didn't know what to say. Instead she pr...

"There's a fine line between love & hate." She hissed. "And you crossed it." He knew she was right.

"Do you want to? Are you sexually active in a gay way right now? You say nothing turns you on, but does it? Do you watch or think about it, to get off?? I'm okay with it, if you are. I'm not guiltless of that. But if you feel you need a partner rather than a wife, I understand that, too." Katherine laid it all out there. "Yes!" Randy confessed, wholeheartedly.  "Okay, well, like I said, if you are okay with me still, I'm okay with it. But I don't want to torture you either..." "Torture?!?!" Randy burst out loud laughing, in utter shock and disbelief at her response. The wave of relief and glee and immaculate freedom and excitement was too much!!! Had she really just released me to go find a gay man lover??? She had.

A few days passed. There was no word from Jill. Had she forgot about me? Was she ashamed of what we did? Did she like me still? As the days piled up, so did the questions. I tired to busy myself with supposed distractions. Al didn't enjoy his daily walks as he once had. He was getting old. Comic books suddenly lost their appeal. All the girls that popped up on the television screen made me think of the make shift apple tree fort, and Jill. Maybe I was thinking about it too much. I wanted to rewind and go back up there among the scent of apples and scattered photos.  The red gingham skirt she wore would become another one of those memories that would forever turn me on. Whenever I see a piece of cloth printed with the same design, even years later, something lurches inside of me. Memories are fantastic. A knock on the door later on only proved a disappointment. Mom was having an evening Tupperware party in the basement, which explained her absence and her frequent ins and outs all m...