January 2008
Feces, Tramps, and Peeves
It’s funny how people disappoint you–funny as in perplexing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why some people make the decisions that they make in life. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever understand some people at all–all of the idiosyncrasies, the lies.
I don’t ask for perfection–in friendships or relationships or whatever–I don’t. I know I’d have more luck trying to find a werewolf who breeds unicorns with already-braided hair. What I do ask for, however, is honesty. And I’ve found out that it is one of the hardest things to find in people these days. Really, are honest, decent people now becoming myths?
Why lie about who you are? Eventually you’re going to be figured out. There’s just no getting by it; one day your true personality will surface and all of the lies will come back to haunt you.
Lying to impress someone? Imagine how wonderful they’ll feel when they find out you aren’t who you said you were, and you’ve just been a huge disappointment, not to mention a huge waste of time. If you’re like me, you don’t have to search too far in your imagination. Either I have the worst luck, the worst judge of character, or I look for the best in people when sometimes I’m unknowingly staring at [insert a highly offensive term for human or animal excrement].
There are only so many excuses one can hear before they all begin to mesh together and stink. All of the lies eventually form a big pile of crap and you can either let the other person keep stepping in it and spreading it around the place, or you can find the big pile, along with the person, and give them both a toss out the door. You shouldn’t be forced to deal with someone else’s problems.
Because honestly–and I don’t know about you–I have enough shit in my life to deal with already…
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Haunted
Sometimes I wish I still had the innocence of a child–to believe once more in a wonderful world full of opportunities, love, and happy endings. Sometimes I wish I still believed in the tooth fairy and magical, far away lands. Sometimes I wish I still had faith in the little things in life–things I’ve lost along the way. Sometimes I wish I still believed in wishes. God, the things I’d wish for…
Life is hard enough if you’re a straight person in West Virginia, but as most of you reading know, it’s even harder when you’re gay. Not only do you encounter people who automatically hate you because of who you are, you encounter people who are gay and so sexually confused (because of the area and mixed religious views) that they attempt to live a lie. On top of that, the gay community is so small here that everyone knows everyone else’s business (or they think they do) and most people have slept with almost every other gay person down the multi-colored chain of homosexuality. (However, I’m not here to judge, and I know not every gay person in this state is like that.) It’s just a battle to find a decent person anywhere, but here, the choices are really slim. And just when you think you’ve met someone who actually seems like a great person, you discover something else entirely.
After so many disappointments, you begin to expect disappointment in everyone you meet. You no longer have the same appreciation for an apple after you’ve bitten into so many pieces of rotten fruit. You begin to suspect that every apple plucked from the tree is going to taste the same, and you eventually await the haunting bitterness even before you‘ve had a taste. You may sabotage the relationship before it even begins, but after so much pain, you can only handle so much.
I always told myself I would never become one of those ‘love scorned’ persons, but now I realize why some people become scarred and dejected when it comes to love. Because, unlike ghosts, people can cut you deeper than any knife and, as much as you wish it away, the memories can haunt you forever…
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Mirror, Mirror
Yesterday, I woke up shortly after 7 am to silence and the scent of strawberries from the air freshener stationed in the outlet in my room. Unenthusiastically, I rubbed my eyes with contempt for the glow of sunlight that came from the bedroom windows and, with an annoyed kick, I rejected the lulling hug of the warm blankets. Duty called. Another day, another dollar…
When I stepped in front of the mirror, I wondered what haggard, homeless man had stumbled into my house after a long night of raiding dumpsters, boozing, and selling himself for liquor money. My unruly hair stuck out in all directions, my eyes were swollen from lack of sleep, and the few razor bumps on my face had transformed into a variety of the plagues that afflicted the Egyptians. It was that kind of morning.
I guess everyone has those days where they wake up and, no matter what they do, they can’t seem to feel good about themselves–the gel can’t fix their hair well enough, the face wash can’t seem to work the blemishes fast enough, their body looks worse in the mirror than the previous day, and no matter how hard they search the closet, even their favorite outfit doesn’t look good on them. There are just some days we’re so unhappy with ourselves that, no matter how hard we try, we can think of nothing other than the fact that we look horrible. And during the entire day, we’re so self-conscious that we hope other people won’t notice our ugly skin or disgusting body beneath the unsightly and poorly chosen clothing.
Despite what we say, there are some people’s opinions we value more than others, and all it takes is one comment from that person to change our view of ourselves and make or break our entire day. And, as hard as we try not to, we can’t help but care what they think. However, sometimes I wonder what things we miss in life because we’re too consumed with trivial things and what other people think. Truly, how can we ever see ourselves for whom we are if we’re living our lives in the eyes of everyone else? Can we ever see anything beyond the surface of the mirror?
I looked into the mirror today and took a few seconds before I shut the cabinet door and walked away. Despite what image I saw reflected there, I couldn’t change who I saw–that person with the crazy hair and morning breath was still going to be there beneath the surface. It was all a part of me, and honestly…sometimes you just have to learn to love yourself. Because I’ve realized: life is better lived outside of the mirror and inside a comfortable place within ourselves…
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The Playground
“Long distance relationships inevitably come to an end…” Those words echoed through my mind as I walked down the busy streets of Wilmington, Delaware and through the cold curtain of rainfall in the night air. The flashing neon lights from the movie theatre illuminated a small path on the sidewalk and gently outlined the faces of a happy couple ahead of me. I was alone in a city of strangers for my job and, like a child, I missed home. I missed him.
It’s funny how we never really grow up. When we’re children, we hate to go to the playground alone. And when we’re older, we still like to have someone to play on the monkey bars with–we’re just more apt to hide that fact at times. (Life is always more fun if you have someone to share it with.) Honestly, it had been years since I last went to a movie alone, but knowing no one in a city so far from home, I had no choice but to brave the playground alone.
Music played somewhere in the distance and drew my attention elsewhere. Turning my head and looking further down the street, I noticed another couple walking hand-in-hand, gazing into each others eyes as if lost in a world of their own rapturous creation. And it made me miss him more.
It’s sad how we replace fantasies with insecurities and how we replace fear of the boogeyman with fear of falling in love. Are we all just timid children at times, afraid of braving life’s playground?
I sat alone in the movie theatre, holding the arm rest that should have been his hand and watching the screen that should have been his face. And as I sat there watching the flickers of light against the screen, I hoped with a childish hope that the boy I missed was missing me, too…
