I'm relapsing, I can feel it.

I think of how the "Countdown to the Millennium" novelty LEDs simply turned into an ordinary digital clock when the year 2000 finally happened and what a thoughtful device that was. I think of how I want to fill empty pages with beautiful words written in longhand, tear each page of poetry out and put the torn segments into random books at the library for people to find. I think of a fall day at dusk and a barrel full of burning charcoal going out slowly in the chilly evening's multicolored sky.

It's been just over two months since I've been in a gay chatroom/used a gay app and I can feel the creeping lust looming over me like the Grim Reaper and I think of how all the nice things I mentioned above mean nothing to me if I allow myself to engage in homosexual intercourse.

I'm relapsing, I can feel it, I can just feel it. It's been over two months since I last did any of that crap, hell, I'm counting days, the way an alcoholic or a narcotics addict does out of rehab. But I can feel my weakness approaching and I don't want to allow it. Everything in my power to block it I've done, I changed my appearance, completely, my facial hair, hairstyle, wardrobe, the way I walk, talk and act and I was happy in my new ways but it's all slipping through my fingers like the silky sands of Aruba.

I don't want to let it happen. I don't know what's going to happen to me if I give in, but it's going to change me forever and I don't want to change, I just want this feeling to go away. You all know how I feel, I've mentioned it in my past posts-- the devil on my back. Well now there's a demon inside me and it's trying to get me to go down the street to the gay bar tonight. Luckily I've taken my evening medicine and I'm slightly woozy and enough so that I won't be driving let alone going out for the night, but then there's tomorrow. Then there's Friday night.

I'm horrified. I don't want to let it happen but the thoughts keep chasing me. I don't want to be a homosexual man, I just want to be a nobody without any desire to engage in any of sex of any kind of any orientation. But it keeps coming back. Eighty two days without sexually-charged conversational contact with my local gay community, soon to be zero. I don't want to slip.

 

I am not homophobic, heck, I like to think I'm about as gay friendly as they come-- but like I've said everyone I know knows I'm gay except for me.

 

It's not that I want to be straight, I tried being straight and it was pretty bad-- I didn't enjoy myself at all. It's just that after that experience, and having a history of extended gay fantasies etc-- I don't think I could live with myself after a gay encounter of any kind, be it sexual or even just a 'date.'

Everyone seems to assume that my desire to not want to be gay is based out of fear of gay people, when it's not at all that, I just don't want to feel sexually attracted to anything as it always leaves me feeling bad.

 

It's not really a matter of love, at this point-- it's that... stirring in my loins if you forgive my lack of a better analogy that sends me off. I can only repress it so long before it rears its ugly head again. I've gone pretty far this time, I'm not sure how long the last time was, a little under a year, I think it was-- maybe nine, ten months at the very most. But now it's only been two months without a relapse and I can feel another one building up.

Romantic stuff doesn't really affect my life, much. I'm not one on romance-- I see it as silly and unnecessary. There's really only sex, to me, that is. Some people like romantic (whether it's gay or straight or whatever) relationships but I'm not into that kind of thing. It's not romance that calls me, it's sexual desire.

 

I've tried that at least fifty times, doesn't work. I see you're only fourteen, I'm twenty six and I've been battling my sexuality almost as long as your lifetime. I'm not one of these newfangled homosexuals born into a gay pride parade, even if I could accept and love myself and whatever I wouldn't be "out," I just don't think it's appropriate to announce my preferences for whom I sleep with.

I do realize how unhealthy it is, and I do know I'm gay and I am not comfortable with it and I am repressing it.

Sounds like interesting reading material-- psychic energy? I'll have to check it out, thanks for the recommendation!

Like I said, even before my crisis of sexuality or whatever you wanna call this, I've never viewed romance as anything other than Hallmark crap-- if you like it, that's cool, man. It's just not how I roll-- I'm about passion, I guess. Or I would be if I were to stop repressing myself.

It's that time of night where I'm starting to agree with that, but tomorrow, or maybe even a week or a month (though I've never gotten to a full month of being 'relapsed' before falling back into the hole I'm in, now) there will come a moment when I start shaking and saying to myself: "My god, what have I done?"

 

Hey, yeah, Burroughs rocks, Ginsberg I haven't read much of but I'm always looking for his stuff.

Anyway, first of all, that painting-- wow, it's beautiful in a macabre way. People who look into my eyes in person always say "You have such tired eyes," and I can tell you that that was (the look of horror on the Ivan's face) the look I had on my face the first time I masturbated-- as it was quite by mistake.

It's the same look I have on my face every time since, then, too. It was the same look I had on my face when I walked a long of shame home after losing my virginity. I don't even carded anymore, my eyes are so sunken from years of anxiety and self-induced psychological torture that I've been mistaken for high school graduates of 1987-- the year I was born.

As for your situation, I've tried drugs and alcohol and neither do anything to suppress my feelings-- in fact, I found that they only intensified them. I don't do drugs at all, now, and I only drink socially, but for a while I was smoking pot, snorting coke and chugging rum trying to make it all go away when all it did was agitate the monster inside of me and one night the demon came too close to escaping and I put a stop to my recreational drug use.

The defense mechanisms, the reaction formation, everything I try to put it away, it finds me. I believe sex is like death, in many ways-- it comes to us all in one form or another eventually. You can outrun both for awhile, but in the end they both always find you-- whether it's in the form of losing a virginity or simply seeing pornography no one truly remains untainted.

On a lighter note to sort of juxtapose the Ivan the Terrible analogy: There's a Woody Allen movie called Sleeper, the final scene has a quote I've lived my life by for some time...

[YOUTUBE]I_Woa-oFy_Y[/YOUTUBE]

 

I'm not sure what I'm hoping to achieve, if anything. Some days there's a part of me that wants to relapse, other days I'm so disgusted with myself I want to remove my genitals by force. In short, I don't know, life's too complicated, and I wish things were simpler, but there's all these... different factors that are making something that should be simple incredibly complex-- and that's no one's fault other than the ridiculously complex construct of the human mind.

 

When I say 'different factors' I'm referring to how needlessly complicated the human condition can be, the way we try to analyze everything and break it all down into millions of little even more complicated things.mits just the way things are, complex, and we try to understand them when there's really no need to other than the egotism of science and psychology and religion or whatever. Trying to figure out the nature or reason behind existence when there may not be a need to do that.