Is it cold to ignore or avoid someone from your past when you cross paths? Maybe! Does it also often feel a whole lot better than engaging? Hell yeah!
In the pool hall, my sweetheart and a close friend tease me one night: “unimpressive,” “pure luck,” “you aren’t that good.” They were trying to get my ire up so that an hour later when I told them to stare into each other’s eyes as I fucked my sweetheart’s body, I would mean it with a snarky competitive vengeance, I would mean it with power and control, I would be pushed to take what I want.
“It seemed at the time to be exactly what life was about, and only just barely staying alive, curling up in corners of lonely, unclean rooms in shaking fits of sadness too raw to keep inside my head, screaming into my bent knees.”
“As soon as we met Tara and Tony, our lives morphed to make room for them. Instead of drinking Carol’s parents’ liquor on Friday nights, we went to their apartment in Hillcrest to smoke pot from a bong filled with Midori and play with Tara’s snake.”
“I wanted her to smile at me that way. I wanted her to say my name. This turned out to be easy.”
Dementia used to be called madness, I was told.
“I wear this shirt at least three times a week.”
“No one knows, including me, that my overindulgence and competitive drinking is an attempt to assert the only masculinity I know. Toxic.”
“I derailed Bible study tonight and Pastor Daniel ended up delivering a lecture about the danger of Britney Spears; specifically, Crossroads. He said she’s scandalous.”
“I craved that isolation, that feeling of utter aching loneliness that I found inside houses where I did not belong.”
“We took off on our bikes with the intention of shoplifting all the proper ingredients to make homely ham sandwiches.”
“I wanted to not care where I was going that/any day; a girl who’d interrupt her routine for a brush with honesty.”
“Zoey and I tried to feed our cravings for simple American cuisine, but despite our clever substitutions and meticulous adjustments and innovative ingredients from the bazaar, nothing tasted quite right. Not bad, just not what we’d been looking for.”
“Your truth is always your truth, whether said or silent. It just might not be the idea of your truth that somebody else has in their mind.”
Is lying on a floor feeling your feelings queer culture? You bet.
“These drawings were done during the two year period that my wife, Sarah, and I were trying to get pregnant. So much has changed in my life since then. These doodles sat, almost forgotten, for almost a decade.”
“Presenting as male every day hurts. When the ship is in port, it’s not as bad; I grow to hate coming in to work, but once the day ends I can go home and be myself. When we’re underway, it’s worse. I’m stuck being ‘him’ all day, every day. Sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks… once, for months.”
“Other people built a gender for me and trusted that I would defend what they built. But what I was handed never made sense.”
The kind of miniseries that seems like a great idea when your fever is at its highest, truly.
“I am 12. I have never thought of the idea of being gay. I am the only one being called gay at school, that I know of, and I am learning very quickly that it is the worst thing one could possibly be. It feels contagious, like I’m walking into school every day with a giant, hideous cloak of gay-ness, and everyone knows it.”