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April 2001

 

April 30, 2001

It's been a rough time, today. I am tired and feel empty. I want school to be over. I need strength I don't have. I'm holding on ...

Tomorrow I have to write a paper from beginning to end. I haven't been able to get anything done on it for three days, so I'm not too positive about this. I don't have any extra time left, though, because other papers are coming rapidly due and will need to be worked on. If I can just make it through another 9 days, the semester will be over and successfully completed. It should really be easier than this.

Posted at 11:09 PM

 

April 29, 2001

Too many images to make sense of ...

Every once in a while, my mind just flashes from one memory, one image, to another. No break. No continuity. It just keeps up for a while flashing pictures rapidly in the back of my consciousness. It's not unusual for me to have a memory pop up every once in a while, but this sequence of memories like this is just weird, and I just feel so empty and alone.

Today it has been mostly people. Well, it's been mostly boys I have known ... or that I've secretly longed for over the years, some as early as from second grade. "I have memories of second grade?" you might ask? Yes. I have memories from kindergarten. Heck, I have memories from when I was two. Not many, but they are quite vivid. Seeing all of these boys that I wanted to know, be friends with, be like, touch ... it just upsets me. I feel like it's always been this way ... just one guy after another that I become infatuated with but who has no idea I even exist, a guy that eventually goes on with his life while mine never makes any progress. So empty and useless. So alone.

Posted at 12:24 AM

 

April 28, 2001

I have meant to mention this earlier, but I keep forgetting. There was this great editorial in the BGNews, my university newspaper, that was from another college's student newspaper. It gives me hope that other people believe in the same things I talk about in the Dreamworld. Read the article and see what you think.

In other news, it looks like I may actually be able to update the website the way I want during May and possibly even have a couple chapters of the story out by the end of May. The downside of this would be that I wouldn't be taking Summer classes like I had been hoping to do. It looks as though Financial Aid at the university isn't doing anything more for me than taking what I normally get for Fall and Spring and just splitting it into thirds rather than adding any other sources to cover the expenses of Summer semester. Needless to say, I have no way to pay for Summer fees without extra funding - Heck, it's all I can do to keep up with my personal expenses at this point. I haven't given up yet, and I plan to meet with a supervisor in the Financial Aid Office on Monday to see if we can find any other sources of funding (I know for a fact that I can get more from certain sources of funding and I also know that I am eligible for a couple different Federal loans that I don't currently receive anything from). I can't say I'm really hopeful, but I'll keep trying until I know I just don't have any possible chance. And I'm trying to look at the positive side of not taking Summer classes if I don't get funding - that would mean more time to work on the website, and I have to admit that I would enjoy that.

Posted at 11:18 PM

 

April 27, 2001

Well, score another point for crappy days. Today has been tiring and full of bad incidents and bad news. Too much to detail and ... well, I really just want to put that stuff behind me. I'll face what aspects of it that I have to when I have to deal with them again later.

One good thing did happen, however. I had a call from my good friend Greg, and we spoke for almost two hours. Greg lives outside of Detroit and he's simply a god. Beautiful auburn hair, smooth fair skin, slender nose, thin red lips, eyes that sparkle with life and a bit of mischief, and a beautiful body to go with his perfect face. And he has so much personality and charm and humor. Damn, I love him. Did I mention that we went out briefly? I guess not.

It had always been my dream, from the first moment I had laid eyes upon Greg, that we would be together. We actually became friends quickly and spent a great deal of time together, but we were both too shy to make a move. Strangely, we tried dating after I had been in Lafayette for a while and Greg was still in Toledo. Long distance stuff never works, and we just fell back into the routine of being friends. I always wanted more, but I'm afraid to push things and lose Greg's friendship. I always seem to let us get a bit distant in this friendship because my love for Greg just scares me. I have trouble talking when he's around, and I always worry that I'm not good enough for him. And I guess I'm just afraid that he'll get sick of me and not want me around at all, so I only talk to him every few months.

I really should try to drive up to see him this summer. A lot. I need him. Even if only as a friend.

Posted at 1:35 AM

 

April 26, 2001

Three papers down, one to go, and all due tomorrow. Hopefully I will get everything together once I get up early tomorrow. There's also a bunch of reading to do tomorrow, a wee bit of library research, and two more papers to write this weekend, but these four papers for tomorrow are the urgent thing.

I had hoped to get nearly finished with the fourth and longest one today (as well as the other three), but I couldn't get myself out of bed until almost 11 AM (the alarm had gone off at 6:45 AM). Considering how sad and hopeless I was in bed this morning, I did pretty well at getting three papers done and this fourth one started. So far, so good. At least I'm still keeping up and doing well on grades. If I can just keep it up for a little longer, I can rest for a while.

Posted at 11:31 PM

 

April 25, 2001

I've woken up with a start about every two hours both of the last two nights, not remembering any dream at any of the times but always feeling upset, even scared. I don't know if this means I'm having bad dreams or what, seeing as I never remember my dreams, but it is really leaving me extremely tired during the day.

I don't have time to really think this through because I am under pressure to get a lot of papers written and stuff read for classes before the end of the week. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to concentrate for shit. as a result, I am even more under the gun with schoolwork. Damn but I want this semester over.

I think the overall stress is actually triggering whatever is waking me up at night. I have been so stressed and continually emotionally upset that the back of my neck has been painfully tense and stiff for more than two weeks. And of course I've been overeating, too. That (and drinking Pepsi like an addict) are both nearly uncontrollable responses to anxiety for me. I need to relax and regain control because I feel like hell.

For now I just need to forge ahead. Two more weeks and everything will be done, for better or for worse. I'm having panic attacks, uncontrollable sadness, and general malaise, but I have to see this through.

Posted at 9:33 PM

 

April 24, 2001

I am oh so tired ... but I don't want to sleep.
I ache ... but I am numb.
The world is too much ... and it is not enough.
I want a new beginning ... but I seek a simple ending.
... nothing makes any sense at all ...

Posted at 12:03 AM

 

April 23, 2001

Death. Death. Death.

It's everywhere.

A girl's body was uncovered on a remote part of campus who was murdered a year ago and buried. A girl that sits next to me in my first class was telling me before class started about how her boyfriend was studying to be a mortician and also about a new Stephen King book she read. Phil, my favorite prof, told me about a nightmare he had last night that a murderer was in his house and then he told me about this former girlfriend of his in BG (where the university is) who died of a lingering death from cancer. I finished that Paul Monette book yesterday where everyone dies of AIDS, and I had to start thinking about what to write about it for a paper. I also have to write a paper on Hemingway's "Snows of Kilimanjaro," in which the narrator dies of gangrene and sees death approaching for days. I read about John Keats, the romantic poet, today for background on a paper. He died very young of tuberculosis and was mourned in a poem called "Adonais" by Percy Shelley. My other class today discussed a book called Passing by a Harlem Renaissance writer called Nella Larsen. The main character kills her friend in the end. (Hey, death in all three classes plus on campus - what a bargain!). I thought about Ken today, not that that's unusual, but I still can't accept that he's dead, too. I also thought about a casual friend from about ten years ago named Dave who was hit by a train and killed. I thought about him on my drive to school this morning. I passed three dead animals on the road this morning. I passed two major accidents on the highway where the front half of the cars in each case were completely crushed in. A friend of mine called me tonight talking about suicide, looking for hope and help. I fear I didn't provide the hope and help I should have. I tried, but I'm not in a good place to tell people good reasons to live. One of the high school kids on the tv-show "Boston Public" died of a heart attack on tonight's episode. Three more people were killed in Ohio in stories in the news. A mother and daughter died in one of the gay romance stories I read on the net tonight. I had urges at different points tonight to listen to "American Pie," "Hey, Hey, Johnny," and "No-one But You," songs mourning the deaths of John Lennon and Freddie Mercury. I don't know if it was inspired by the music the guys next door were playing or what.

It's all just too much. I'm surrounded by death, dying, and the dead. I don't really feel alive myself, and my thoughts fairly regularly now are about death, my own and others, more than they are about life. And it's all just inescapable. It hangs in the air. Death is feeding, and my soul is being taken before my body.

This is all so wrong.

Posted at 11:38 PM

 

April 22, 2001

I've been pretty depressed today. I finished reading Paul Monette's novel Borrowed Time, a story detailing the descent to death of his lover of twelve years (as well as his own original diagnosis with AIDS). The story is a sad testament of the tragedy of AIDS, particularly in the early days of the calamity, but it also is a touching story of a lifelong love facing its end. It was very upsetting to me for obvious reasons, but I also found myself getting ... not exactly angry ... but kind of jealous. It's twisted, I suppose, but I couldn't help but feel sad that Paul and his lover Roger had each other in good times and bad, there to lean on each other and feel that they were whole because their lover was a part of them. I felt sad because I don't have that. I've never had that. It's so much what I want, and here are these two men (and a large number of others mentioned in the novel) who have close companions to be there for them.

I went out to run some errands today, too, and I saw ... hmmm ... well, ... an angel. Just ... perfect ... <sigh> He was everything I find attractive rolled into one, and he was completely oblivious to me. He seemed like everything I could ever want, but he also was clearly too perfect to ever even consider spending time with me. I couldn't get the image of him or the sound of his voice out of my mind ... still can't ... and it just keeps bringing me down feeling so alone and longing for someone so much.

It's not like I expect the perfect specimen to come walking up to me out of the blue professing his love to me. I find myself attracted to a lot of guys who don't fit the 'studly' profile and who don't have many (or any) of the things I find attractive in a guy. In fact, I really feel that if the personality were right, the appearance wouldn't matter. And I want so much to have someone to bond with that ... well, it's not that I would be happy to have just anyone - I wouldn't just jump on any warm body ... but if I felt the connection to someone then I would definitely hold on with everything I've got. Looks, wealth, education, whatever ... what importance do any of those things have anyway?

But nobody like that seems to exist. Nobody that even notices that I exist.

<sigh>

Posted at 11:03 PM

 

April 21, 2001

My bill for Summer semester classes came today. As of yet, I have no word from Financial Aid whether I will get money for Summer, how much I get, and how that money might impact the money I get for the rest of the year. If the money messes up how much I get for the rest of the year I'm screwed and will have to quickly cancel taking Summer courses and try to get my normal Financial Aid package back so I can afford Fall and Spring semesters. Of course even if I get good funding to cover Summer and not screw up the other semesters, it won't be available until after Summer classes are underway, meaning that I have to pay for classes up front while I wait for the Financial Aid to clear (which means I would be racking up lots more credit card debt since I don't have an extra $3000 in cash lying around (go figure)). If I can't get a definite idea before Summer sessions begin of whether the Financial Aid package for the year will work, then I will have to cancel classes, too - I can't take a chance that the classes I would bill to credit wouldn't be paid for because there's just no way I could afford it.

So, like so much else in my life, this is a complete (and frustrating) unknown. For once why can't something just work simply, like you would logically expect it to, and on the first time? I guess simplicity, logic, and convenience are not things I should expect from the world we live in, but hell, this is the Dreamworld, so I'm allowed to dream for nice things here aren't I?

I hope that isn't the only place where nice things are (in dreams). I didn't create this site to spew out some fantasies and hopes, I really want the positive things I talk about here to be manifest in the real world. For me, the real world without the possibility of those things - hope, truth, compassion, love - isn't worth living for. Most of the time I really do fear if those things can exist in the world, but I haven't completely given up hope yet.

Posted at 11:13 PM

 

April 20, 2001

I heard Judy Shepherd speak today, Matthew Shepherd's mother. I knew it would be emotional and troubling to me, but I felt I had to go. I don't regret that I did. Not at all. But it was indeed upsetting to me. My getting upset was not helped by the fact that I was riding on low sleep, too much sugar from constant Pepsi's during the day to keep alert, the remaining stress from having written and turned in two papers today, having some bad flashbacks inspired by a discussion of the psychological study of emotional trauma, and seeing and longing for more beautiful boys than I think I can remember seeing in one place in years. Even with a clear head, though, I think I would have been pretty upset.

I don't understand the world. How can people hate so much? How could anyone harm that beautiful boy? Why was someone so promising as him killed while I remain alive? How can people not feel pain at such a story?

So wrong. So wrong.

Posted at 11:30 PM

 

April 19, 2001

Help.

Posted at 11:42 PM

 

April 18, 2001

Where are you? Will I ever see you? Do you need me as much as I need you? Are you everything I dream about? Will you let me give you all that I am? Do you believe in love? Can you give me hope? Are you scared, too?

I'm here. Come to me. Nothing is too good for you, no request is too great. I can only truly exist with love ... but I'm not sure it's real anymore. I'm so afraid ...

Please. I know you and I can find each other.

Please. We will complete each other.

Please. Love me.

Posted at 11:16 PM

 

April 17, 2001

<sigh>

I wrote one of my papers today, went to class, read Percy Shelley's poem "Prometheus Unbound," and hashed some things out with the building manager. It took until 10:45 before I could force myself out of bed, so I guess I got a good deal of stuff done all in all.

I was awake with my alarm at 6:45, but I couldn't get out of bed. Unlike yesterday, I hadn't had any dreams, and I had no half-waking dreams that played out all morning until I got up. Today I just had all sorts of random thoughts, but the constant feeling of oppression and sadness just kept me beat down so much that I didn't want to get up and face the world. I guess I made progress from where I was yesterday, but it was still pretty disappointing to realize I am this weak.

Part of me just doesn't care. I'm just mentally, physically, and emotionally tired, and the energy boost I need is only going to come from love. Yes, I know that sounds sort of defeatist, but the reality is that I know how I feel and I've seen how things work. I've been like this for a while, tired and sad, and I know the only times I feel much better are when someone spends time with me and seems to have some caring and compassion. Unfortunately these times are few and far between and once that person is gone I immediately begin to feel even more alone and tired than I did before they came.

I guess it's like starving for a while then getting a small morsel of food. You don't like it when you're starving, but you grow accustomed to it. When you get a small bit of food, you have great anticipation for it, savor every bite, chew, and swallow, and even enjoy the afterglow as the taste still lingers and you remember how wonderful it was. But once it's all over, you're even hungrier and weaker than you were before you had anything at all. You get almost an insane panic in your mind about whether you'll ever eat at all again, and all you can think about is how much you need food.

Yes, it's pretty much like that. But like I say, I guess I'm just weak.

Posted at 11:39 PM

 

April 16, 2001

Today all of my repressed hopes and needs took control.

At 6:45 AM my alarm went off as usual. Unlike the usual routine to get ready for classes, I didn't turn off my second alarm right away, giving myself another 4 or 5 minutes to lounge. I knew I didn't want to do anything. Not get up. Not get a shower. Not go to school. Not face the world I hate. Not feel my pain. Not know hopelessness.

I should have just gotten up and fought my mind and emotions with the routine of the morning, but I didn't. I couldn't. The second alarm went off and I was already thinking about finding a boy that needed me. Not the way I needed him, but a way that he needed help. I was there. I comforted. I made things better. I fell in love. And then it would end. I kept trying to replay it in my mind ... just get it to go forward and see things through ... but it would just end every time. I could find someone who needed me and give them all of my love, but I didn't get the love back.

I had had weird dreams prior to that, during the night. As I've mentioned before, I almost never remember my dreams, perhaps only once every 6 months to a year, and they are usually disturbing when I remember them. I remember a bizarre dream about the inside of my Maquarium (fish tank inside an old all-in-one Macintosh SE30 computer) being all jostled around, out of proportion, and my snails and fish being, well, just really weird. The snails had outgrown their shells and crawled out and were all loose and squishy. My fish was biting at them (which he tends to do occasionally in real life). It was all very surreal. So that dream was just way fucked up ... but I also vaguely remember having a dream about being held and crying into a shoulder. I'm quite positive there was more, but that was all I still remembered.

I spent a long time trying to see my dream through to where I felt the connection and perfection of a mutual love with the boy I had found, but it still never happened. I would pull myself closer to consciousness and open an eye to see the time every now and then, seeing the day pass by as I missed one class after another, as I failed to get reading assignments read, as I avoided writing papers that are due very shortly. At 2 PM I finally was able to force myself out of bed, get a shower, and go shopping for groceries. I guess I got a couple other small things done, too, but I don't feel very happy right now and I have a headache.

Is this really as good as it gets? Is this what I have to look forward to for the remaining 70 years of my life? What valid reason is there for me to live 70 years, 70 days, or even 70 seconds in this kind of pain with no hope for release? What I want is pure and good. It deserves to be. Why must it be so unattainable?

Posted at 11:06 PM

 

April 15, 2001

I had an Easter lunch/dinner with Christiana and Geroge (who also lives here at the Collingwood Arts Center), and Eric also stopped in as we were finishing. The food was decent, and I was less depressed than normal, so it all went well. I haven't been very motivated all weekend and having Christiana demand that I eat with her probably was a good thing.

I don't know what to think about it being Easter ... it just doesn't mean anything to me. I'm so unsure what to believe religiously anymore, but I know that formal religion and the ridiculous ceremony that goes with it is unnecessary and disgusting. The fact that our society's commercialization makes religious holidays even more disgusting only adds to my cynicism. I find it amusing that people can accuse the Harry Potter books of promoting witchcraft and being sacrilegious, yet they wholeheartedly support Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the glorification of capitalism in place of what should in theory be the most sacred of their beliefs (and this holds for Jews, too - even if the Christians are more deserving of derision on the whole).

Well, enough of my ranting for today ...

Posted at 10:21 PM

 

April 14, 2001

And the winner is ...

Well, ... hell, why do you think I know who's a winner?

Posted at 11:19 PM

 

April 13, 2001

I find it amazing that even as much as I hold myself responsible for the decisions and actions of my life, even as much as I feel guilty about my instances of poor judgment, and even as much as I hate myself and my life for what they are - even with all of these things, my 'loving' family and many of my 'friends' take every opportunity to blame me for their problems or mistakes, make me feel guilty for things that either have no effect upon their lives or have nothing to do with me, and do whatever they can to make me more angry, miserable, or depressed (or all of the above). Whatever happened to "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all," or "Love thy neighbor as thyself," or "He who is without sin, cast the first stone," or ... well, I can spout platitudes until I'm blue in the fingertips, but why put you through that ...

I think maybe it's this weird idea of, "Hey, I know what we can do that's fun - let's kick Paul when he's down! Yes, that just never gets old..." If it's not this sort of mentality then what is it? Are all of these people Sadists and they get their kicks out of abusing me? Maybe I just look like an easy target for abuse. Or maybe it's these people's way of punishing me for being gay or being a felon or being a man or being white or being intelligent or ... just being ...

Why do I care? Why do I let it get to me? I don't know. I have gone beyond seeing these people as important or positive in my life, but I still find myself hurting from their words. Damn them anyhow. Don't I have enough troubling my soul without their help?

Posted at 10:47 PM

 

April 12, 2001

I'm the one you never knew existed. I'm the one you always suspected. I'm the one you liked to laugh at. I'm the one you ignored. I'm the one you hated for no reason. I'm the one you knew was a loser. I'm the one you thought was weird. I'm the one you felt was beneath you. I'm the one you believed wasn't too smart. I'm the one you knew didn't even try to make a good impression. I'm the one you considered to be too quiet. I'm the one you disliked as a know-it-all. I'm the one you saw as mean. I'm the one you wished would shut up. I'm the one you bet was a big wimp. I'm the one you thought hated everyone. I'm the one you never had time to meet. I'm the one you guessed was just having a bad day.

I'm the one ... and I'm not.

I'm just one.

Alone.

Posted at 11:36 PM

 

April 11, 2001

A strange, strange day. I have been fantasizing throughout the day - not generally sexual, although that has popped up (so to speak), but definitely visions of holding, hugging, crying on a shoulder, kissing, and stroking the hair or rubbing the back of the object of my affection. A few nonspecific guys figured into these, and it had nothing to do with a particular person or a need for sex. It was all about that need for companionship, compassion, tenderness, and ... safety .. yeah, safety ... having someone wrap their arms around me and feeling secure enough to let go of my fears and either cry or completely relax - one fantasy was actually me crying myself to sleep in happiness in the arms of a compassionate young man. Sometimes these fantasies have left me feeling empty and alone, which is the way I often feel in my depression, but a lot of the day I felt very soothed because of these fantasies.

I wish I had the time to really indulge and just let my mind drift into such thoughts for a while.

Posted at 11:26 PM

 

April 10, 2001

Shoot me. Shoot me now.

Where's a good psychotic college kid that decides to shoot a bunch of people on campus when you need them? I guess it's just asking for things to be too easy to expect that anyone for any reason would put me out of my misery, even if they did so inadvertently.

It's not like I'm asking for anything terrible or wrong - all I want is love. Why is that so unattainable? Why don't I even have a persistent friend that tries to save me? "Excuse me for bumming you out; just leave me alone to go insane - Heaven forbid you might have to be around someone that's sad or needy. Oh my God! I wouldn't be doting over you and tending to your every need like you expect me to do! How could I be so selfish as to want what I've always given to you..."

I don't want to go in this direction, but I'm getting bitter. It's horrible enough to be so alone and empty that it hurts, but I'm afraid of how much I'll hate myself if I become bitter and nasty. I really would prefer just to die now rather than degenerate into that.

Actually I'd rather have a loving companion to spend the rest of my life with. But since it seems I'm not allowed to have that, I'd just prefer to die. Anytime soon is fine.

Shoot me. Shoot me now.

Posted at 11:29 PM

 

April 9, 2001

Maybe part of the problem is that I'm being selfish - I want love, but I won't give it unless someone shows they care. Should I really expect someone to be interested in me when I'm quiet, unsmiling - not even suggesting that there's anything pleasant that I have to offer, let alone love? I don't know what I should expect. But I can't just go around meeting people and giving my trust, caring, and love to them only to find that they won't give any of that back.

I actually want to give love more than I want to receive it, but I know how this works out eventually (I have lived it too many times). I end up giving and giving and giving and falling hopelessly in love with someone, just waiting for them to return that love ... or at least show some affection ... or maybe just show they care ... or maybe say "Thank you" ... but none of that ever happens. I keep giving. I keep hoping. I keep needing. And after a few years and a couple of direct rejections to my professed love, I realize I have to get away from that person. If I stay, my loving and giving becomes expected, and I only manage to debase myself by giving further. Even years after I have left, I still love each of those people even though they never gave anything back.

I want to give my love. But I fear to do so. I wonder if people around me can sense that I am holding back my love? Probably not since nobody even says a word to me on any given day. I need love, but I need to give it, too.

What can I do? I feel so helpless. Find me somebody to love. Please. I can't last.

Posted at 11:10 PM

 

April 8, 2001

It doesn't matter, does it? No matter how much I want love, no matter how much I might love someone, no matter how hard I try, I will never have that love returned. That's the way it has always been. That's the way it will always be.

I don't know why I'm unlovable. I don't know why there is no one out there for me. Whether love exists or not is really unimportant in this equation - even if it does exist, I have no hope to avoid being alone.

It's ironic ... I've seen all of this coming since I was a child. I knew how much I needed love when I was four, and I knew that no one around me provided that love, no matter how hard I tried to earn it or make them happy. When I was eleven I wrote a poem, "The Fool of All Eternity", and it describes the life I lead today ... a life that I have failed to secure love.

"Through only love will you succeed..."

Is it my fault? Have I brought this upon myself? Do I deserve this for some reason? Why was I even born to suffer a life like this? When will it end?

It hurts so much.

Posted at 11:28 PM

 

April 7, 2001

Emptiness. Loneliness. Too much. Too much.

I'll never live without this, will I?

Posted at 10:53 PM

 

April 6, 2001

I wish there were people reading these Journal entries. I know that there aren't, and it's my own fault since I have only released the www address to a select few people who are each rarely even checking the site themselves. My original intention was to wait to join webrings or post notices on the major gay discussion boards until after I had posted the first chapter of the story. Of course the story is on a tremendous delay due to the priority of school work over my personal writing time, so there's no telling how long it will be until I get anything substantial ready with the story.

I just wish I had feedback from people and maybe some questions that I could answer. Sometimes the Journal is great for me just to let out my feelings, but I find myself too often just wallowing in my own self-pity and not putting forth anything creative in these pages. That really doesn't do anything for me or anyone that might chance to read this.

Well, for now I will continue to trod ahead with an entry each evening. I had considered more random entries or a weekly update, but I think the best way to be sure I make any degree of regularity in updates is to continue a nightly regime, even if some entries are less than interesting (or more than depressing).

To any of you out there who are reading this, whether I have directed you to this page or if you have simply stumbled upon it, if you are reading these Journal entries, I implore you to respond to me with some hint of acknowledgment that I am not simply posting in obscurity. It would help me to think so.

Posted at 11:23 PM

 

April 5, 2001

I feel better today. Still tired, sadly, but not so filled with black gloom. I can't say that I believe in love and truth and compassion any more than I did during the past couple of days, but I know I want and need them still, and I know I once again hope that they can enter my life.

How can I question their existence yet hope for them to embrace me? Well, let's just say that I'm wishy-washy today. I know what I want. I know what I need. It is those things that I hope for in my life. Unfortunately I don't know if I can ever have those things or if they even exist at all. I hope they do. I hope they will be a part of me. But I still fear the emptiness of a world with no truth, no compassion, and no love.

Today I met a new tenant in the Art Center, someone I think will become my first new friend in quite a while, someone to whom I can relate and open up, and someone who has energy and optimism and happiness. I sense the sort of truth, compassion, and love that I need to be embodied in this man, even though he will always belong to another. But his commitment to someone else is alright because almost more than a lover and companion, what I need right now is someone to make me believe again, someone to give me hope, and someone to make me care. It's a lot to expect out of one person, but I think he might be able to accomplish it without even trying - just by being himself.

I don't want to get my hopes up or get hurt again, but I can't go on like I am. This is an emptiness and a pain that I can't bear, and I need someone to lean on if I am to struggle to regain some stability. Maybe he can be that someone. I hope so.

Posted at 10:55 PM

 

April 4, 2001

It's really sad how many people there have been like Simon in my life - people I have fallen in love with and could only get so close to, some of whom even took advantage of my love and my giving, caring nature. They always invariably turned out straight, gay but not interested, or gay and involved with someone (or waiting for someone in particular). I just never understood why I could never find someone that could/would love me back. Now it's all so clear - love isn't real; it's just a fabrication in my mind, so no one could ever provide something that doesn't really exist. The only other possibility is that it's just not possible to love me. Either scenario actually works out the same for me - I can't live without love, even if I know that love doesn't exist.

It's sad to me that people can believe in and engage in fabricated ideas like freedom, honor, morality, justice, or beauty, yet they are unable to accept and produce something that to me is so simple but necessary - love.

I don't understand the world. I am disgusted, fearful, confused and disappointed by what I see everyday in the news and with my own eyes. It is a hell of our own creation that becomes worse each minute and each day. Each for his own and for no one else. Everyone ready and willing to allow others to suffer so long as they feel no personal impact from the situation. We are a world with only one clear destiny - self-annihilation. We lack any saving grace.

All we need is love. But it doesn't exist in our world. And mankind doesn't know how to produce it. And this is our hell.

Posted at 11:38 PM

 

April 3, 2001

I keep seeing people who remind me of Simon. Everywhere I go: on campus, when shopping, and today even a new tenant here in the Art Center reminded me of him. Sometimes it's the way they look, but often it is the way they move or the way they hold their facial features. One guy in my American Lit class has eyes that look and move just like Simon's.

Not long after I first went to Lafayette, Indiana to manage my first Kinko's store, I hired a young Purdue college student who had no work experience, was incredibly shy and quiet, and had long blond hair that fell into his eyes nearly down to the tip of his nose. He had a thin, gangly frame and a chiseled face with skin so pale and smooth that it was like bisque. He had a way of talking at first such that his mouth and lips barely moved and his voice came out in a harsh whisper, deep but soft. He was just too shy and uncomfortable around other people to talk openly, but I could see so much intelligence and ... goodness ... in him, that I hired him on the spot and worked closely with him to put him more at ease and get him to be less shy around others. Getting him to work with customers was in itself an interesting challenge.

Time passed and Simon quickly became my best and most favored employee. He could do no wrong and regularly went beyond my expectations, and we became quite good friends. One day, not really very long after he had been working for me, Simon approached me with a problem - his roommates in the dorms were loud and unruly and Simon couldn't study. He knew from having come to a store party in my apartment that I had an extra bedroom, and he hoped I would let him move in for the rest of the semester so he could study without problems. After that he would find a place of his own off-campus. Well, I said yes, and Simon lived with me the remaining two years I was in Lafayette. In fact, he moved with me when I went to Chicago and lived with me during the first summer I was there before he returned to school.

Simon quickly grew to be very special to me, and I would have loved nothing better than to have had a relationship with Simon. He was decidedly straight, however. He knew I was gay; he knew I loved him; and he loved me, too, in his own way - but it would never go beyond friendship. We had a lot of good times, made a lot of shared memories, and learned a lot about each other. Even after we went our separate ways when I moved to Chicago, we remained close and kept in regular contact for a very long time. We both went through a lot of changes in our lives, but we still had a special connection.

A little over a year ago I lost contact with Simon. He had been living in Chicago for a while, had been in a long-term relationship with a great girl for about three years and seemed determined to marry her, had a solid good-paying job that he liked, and was trying to get back to college to finish his degree (he had dropped out in favor of a job, much to my openly-expressed frustration). I sent a birthday present which came back with a 'No Forwarding Address' label. I tried e.mail, but all of the accounts I knew of were no longer in existence. The phone listings in Chicago had no reference for Simon (or he was unlisted). And his mother and stepfather had moved just before I had last seen him, but I had not seen any need at the time to get their number or address.

So I sit today as I have for a while with no idea where Simon is or if I will ever see him again. I love him deeply. It's nothing that would ever have become the kind of relationship I really need, but his loss leaves a part of my heart empty and cold. For three years I saw Simon every day and spoke with him about everything, and for three years after that I saw or talked to Simon on nearly a monthly basis, sometimes visiting for a long weekend.

And now he's gone. It's a horrible way to think of it, but Simon's absence feels to me much like Ken's absence. For all I know, Simon may even be dead, just like Ken. I just don't know. But I feel incredibly sad knowing that I may never see him again. I miss him. I miss knowing that he is alright. I miss knowing what is going on in his life. I miss hearing his views on the world. I miss his wry smile. I miss his youthful charm.

I miss him.

Posted at 11:09 PM

 

April 2, 2001

What do you do when there's no point in doing anything? Should I just forget school? Should I stop paying bills? Should I wander aimlessly? Should I become a serial killer and exterminate all of the people that have proved themselves deserving of death within the context of my life? Should I even get out of bed in the morning? I could just lie there endlessly until I died of starvation or dehydration. Nobody would probably ever notice I was gone, but what the hell ... it's not like it would make a difference if they did.

Each moment of each day takes its own effort to get through and not break down. How do I continue like this? I can't. I am mentally and physically tired all of the time now, but I also have trouble getting to sleep - as if that makes an logical sense. I just want a comforting nothingness to envelope me, wrapped in its endless embrace for eternity - the only lover I can ever have.

Posted at 1:30 AM

 

April 1, 2001

Wow! Today was such a great day ...

Well, rather than lie to you and hurt myself by imagining about getting the love and affection I so desperately need but will certainly never receive, I will simply wish you 'April Fools' and go on with a typical, pathetic, depressed Journal entry - just like what you've obviously come to expect from me.

I realized something today. I guess I have known it for a while but just wouldn't admit it to myself. I realized that the whole foundation of my Dreamworld, the basis of theDreamworld that I am trying to express in this website, is just a completely unreal fantasy that will never see the light of day - truth will always be elusive and regularly kept from you, not absolutely available; compassion does not exist because people are selfish and will only provide the illusion of compassion when it suits their own needs, thus meaning that compassion is never honestly provided let alone not endlessly available to assuage your pains; and love is a lie, a fabrication of writers over the years to make people believe that they have a chance to be happy and therefore have a reason to live and perpetuate the race, thus the idea of unconditional love is not only flawed in the sense that nothing is unconditional but in the sense that love can ever really exist at all for anyone. The reality is that all there is in the world is lies, pain, cruelty, and loneliness. And I have been a fool to continually try to believe that there could be more available than what I had always experienced for my whole life.

Now all of the reasons to live are gone. What does that mean? Should I figure a simple way out now? I already know the easy way out; it's just a matter of courage on my part, I guess. I haven't had courage in my whole life, but the only path left, the way free of pain, requires more courage than I can imagine. Why does even this have to be so difficult? Why?

Posted at 11:08 PM

 


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Journal, by Paul Cales, © April 2001