mypersonalcollections

[mypersonalcollections]

I find putting on a facade is a great way for me to forget how sad and lonely I am. 

Though, counterintuitively, it makes me feel even more lonely. 

Maybe this break had shed light on some important issues regarding myself as a person;

things that I may have chosen to shove towards the back of my mind in the months of my new home.

I tend to do that a-lot,

forgetting who I am

I get so caught up in,

wanting to be this persona,

this image of myself

that I just let go of everything and 

anything.

Often times this feeling of loneliness overcomes me,

I shut out the world,

I cry myself to sleep

The feeling of a stuffed nose,

with tears slowly dripping down your cheeks,

into your ears,

slowly slipping into your lips 

that salty, warm taste of tears.

And then you wake up,

refreshed, but then remember of last night to which,

the cycle repeats over again. 

I want to scream.

I want to let go. 

But I cannot;

I am simply stuck

trapped;

behind my facade. 

[mypersonalcollections]

a father and his son

hiking to the peak

of a hill speckled with

marigolds of 

summer haze

and with his jar of coins

they watched

as a myriad of silver 

vanished into

the mouth of the abyss 

ablaze he went

the boy only had

one coin

knowing it would not be 

enough to grant his father

the world

he gazed as 

his single coin

dropped down its chasm

it never made

a sound

[mypersonalcollections]

Lavender

insensitivity

inability to fathom 

yet

spring lilacs still bloom in 

my garden

sweet blossoms pirouette in the afternoon spring

and its faint aroma

intoxicating

you will often find me in

my garden

at times 

where my non-native tounge

muddles your ears

during rush hour in a foreign cafe 

so confined I am almost

engulfed 

by its seemingly eternal ocean 

too

nauseating in which

I cannot breathe nor swim

in such ferocious waters 

where I longed to be so

seize me to land 

I cannot escape my

trepid 

ways

the garden

welcomes me with

a bed 

of lilacs

[mypersonalcollections]

Should I

I think

for the past few weeks I’ve become very comfortable with myself. In terms of not really caring much about what others think of me in school (hooray for being a loner during lunch!), not struggling to conform to the typical “frat” mold that all my supposed “friends” fit into. I honestly could not care. 

In terms of also being more comfortable about my sexuality. You know, I had this plan long ago, telling myself that I will marry a woman. I mean, I’m still open to that, but I’m more open to other possibilities as well. You see the thing is, I’ve always wanted a perfect life. I’ve always wanted to be that popular kid in the movies, I’ve always wanted one of those couples who lived happily ever after after going through so much shit. 

I wish I could imagine myself like that.

But the thing is, I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t. I know that one day, I’ll be infatuated by a woman, but knowing myself, truly accepting myself and what I am, I know that eventually, that fuel will die out. I won’t love that woman. I never will. I’ll forever be an actor on stage, playing the same performance over and over and over again just to appease the audience. And for what? To be like everyone else? To avoid discrimination? Maybe; there’s upsides and downsides to it. 

I’m living one life. I made a promise to myself that I will never ever, do things just because someone influences me to do so. I won’t marry a woman, or date a woman just because it’s what society accepts. I won’t marry a woman in order to hide my true self, using her as a shield. Whoever that may be, she deserves better. She deserves a man who truly loves her, physically, mentally, spiritually. It’s not fair for her to end up with a man who truly has no desire for her, simply just using her as a mask on stage. I will never do that. 

But it’s tempting. 

I often lie awake at night, wondering how, out of all the men in the world, I had to be the one. Oh, I how I dreamed of that life. More times than you could count. 

I won’t know how to tell her. It’s eating me from the inside. I feel like a disappointment. I wish I was just like everyone else. 

I want to be free, but perhaps another time. 

[mypersonalcollections]

Lesson #2

The timing is fucking uncanny. But, 

For some reason I feel like it’s meant to be. Like, this was the perfect timing. So much shit has happened just in the past month. I feel like my life is being put on fast forward with me performing the climax of the story. 

Lesson 2.1:

He taught me that was more to hook ups. When I was in denial, or maybe when I was oblivious, all I thought of was that I would never have any emotional attraction, or even an emotional connection with any guys whatsoever. I always thought I’d always be with a woman, who I’m sexually and emotionally attracted to. I’d never imagine myself being with a man, let alone being attracted to him outside of his sexuality. For the longest time, I believed this. In truth, I’m not sure if I’m just lonely, or maybe I just don’t care who I love, who I like. I just want intimacy. I’ve always seen the male physique as something so aesthetically pleasing to me. chiseled, toned, muscular, which is why I’ve striven to become that image. Though when I first met him, there was no thought of that that ever crossed my mind. No sex, no lust, nothing. Just pure bliss, really. He taught me the difference between lust and attraction. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be desperately seeking for that one emotional connection through hookups, blind. Fucking blind. He opened my eyes, he really did. It’s a lesson I’ll keep and remember forever. 

Lesson 2.2:

He taught me to live in the present. Well, maybe not entirely, but he did help in that. We both agreed never to talk about the future, I think we both confessed that the major problem with ourselves is that we  tend to think too far ahead. I miss so much of my present just thinking of what the fuck happened in the past, cringing at my past, worrying about my future (which is not so bad sometimes), thinking about that next big thing in the upcoming weeks that I don’t even think about what I’m doing now. I remember yesterday, we laid in bed, rain pouring outside, the chill breeze slipping through the filtered window, he told me: “I guess we have a three month trial together”. It was a joke, obviously. But it hit me. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone like him ever again in my lifetime, well, If I do, I guess they won’t entirely be the same, or maybe it will take decades (let’s hope not). So I made a pact to myself, starting May 1st, which is today, I will make everyday count as long as I am here in Calgary. I will make every moment with him, with my friends, with my family count. It’s a shame. A fucking shame. 

Perhaps we may cross paths one day, perhaps never. This is life. 

[mypersonalcollections]

Lesson #1

She taught me self-acceptance.

I remember spending hours at night conversing with her, talking about how pathetic I was, how ugly I was, how awkward and shy, and all that fucking self-pity on myself. Boo -fucking- hoo. I was a fucking wimp, fucking pathetic, that’s for sure. I don’t know how she managed to not get fed up will the same shit I said everyday. 

I remember stabbing her in the back. I remember everything I said, it still keeps me up at night, sometimes; just wondering how such words came out of my mouth. Then months later sending her a video of me crying, saying oh, I’m so sorry, I’m such a pathetic loser. Yet, after all that she still took me in. 

I remember bottling up my feelings for quite a while. It’s not particularly “manly” to keep expressing your feelings. Even typing this seems odd. I didn’t talk to her about anything anymore. But it was for a good reason. It wasn’t her job to keep comforting me. It wasn’t her job to set aside some few minutes to hours of her day, typing up some long-ass paragraph to comfort me, to say something that will make me feel like I wasn’t such a loser, or a fucking wimp. 

I remember breaking that one day. I don’t remember what it was, but I did. And I spilled. I felt guilty, it was one-sided. I hated that feeling. But there was no one I could turn to. 

I remember her seven year lesson: self-acceptance. Over these past years, I’ve struggled so fucking hard, to overcome confidence, being “ugly”, being short, all that shit. She taught me to not give a fuck, that it’s okay, who really gives a fuck anyway? Maybe I do, but it doesn’t matter. 

I remember, well maybe not now, but I will remember leaving. Leaving for a brand new start, taking all the lessons she had taught me, and starting a new chapter within my life. 

[mypersonalcollections]

I feel like I’m in one of those movies. Or one of those overrated shows on Netflix that I binge watch in one night. Every time I watch them, I always wished my life was like theirs. Why? Is it because it seems their life is way more exciting than mine? Probably. 

So much shit has happened in the past month. I feel like it’s God’s final test before I eventually become truly independent in university. Let’s start from the beginning. 

I’m a lonely guy. It may not seem like it on the outside, with my facade trying to seem happy, or intimidating by my frown, but I am. These are all defense mechanisms to protect me. It keeps me safe, it prevents me from going outside my comfort zone.

 During spring break, unlike the rest, I was at home. I felt like a loser. Like an absolute fucking loser. I felt like I should be doing something. Anything. Stop being a fuckin loser, Ian. So I did. Who knew  I’d be the type to look for hookups...Anyway, I did that. I downloaded Grindr, and the rest was history. I mean at first it was fine, I met cool people, and friends. But I needed to preoccupy myself. So I met up, recklessly. Haven’t I learned anything from school? From sex-ed? Has everything you’ve learned just thrown out the window? Yes. I was fucking bored, I was fucking lonely. Where are your friends? I mean its not like they’d want to hang out everyday. I’m not gonna lie, I’d get pretty sick of that too. They have their own lives. Way more friends than I do. Back on track...So I hooked up...I felt like the shit. Damn Ian, you’re finally acting like the bad boy you’ve always wanted to be. How many guys did you meet? Oh a couple, around 5 or 6. That’s a lot in just a week. Oh yeah. It is. I lied constantly to my parents saying “Oh, I have a study group in the library” or “I’m going to eat breakfast with so and so”, not knowing that my actual intentions were to get my dick sucked. I came home everyday, saying some bullshit ass story like “yeah...It was fun”. I was talking about the sex.

 Let me tell you about this one guy, he was insecure as fuck. Told me to un-install Grindr, probably because he was too insecure knowing that I might be fucking with other people. I texted him two days in a row saying if he wanted to hang out. All the time, he’s always at the gym with his boys. I know it sounds petty. I felt like a bitch, like one of those bitchy chicks that felt neglected. But really all he used me for was his pleasure. Fuck that. He messaged me a few days ago saying if I wanted to hang out. “Where?” , I asked. “At my place? I’m home alone”. Nice. Like I don’t know what you’re really planning. So I didn’t reply. Blocked his number, never came back. 

Out of all the guys I’ve met, there was this one particular guy. His name was Gordon. He was older than me, but I didn’t mind. I was reluctant at first to meet up with him. It was a Tuesday morning I believe...I got off at Fishcreek station, he picked me up in his jeep. He was just as attractive in person as he was in the pic he had sent me. We went to the mall pretty early, being the older one he was obviously the gentleman. He bought me coffee, and offered to walk around the mall for a bit before the movie started. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Sugar daddy? You’re right. I thought that too. I mean, we went to Nordstrom and he bought me two high-end brand shirts. And he paid for my movie ticket. And he paid for my food. What more could you want? We went back to his place. And I think you know what happened from there. Damn...That sounded better in my head. I sound like a slut. But I’ll get more to that later. Over the past couple days we hung out, movies, netflix, food. It was fun. Until I remembered.

I had unprotected sex. If anything, that was the most stupidest shit I have ever done. It wasn’t with Gordon. It was with someone else. Right after sex I remember laying in my bed, paranoid, fucking terrified. I picked up my phone and texted Gordon. I told him I had unprotected sex. I was scared that he would be angry, disappointed in me. He replied around 10 minutes later, just as I had expected. He wasn’t mad though, just disappointed. I called him. Crying. He asked me “You told me you were clean. I trusted you, I know I’m clean, and now you’re me you had unprotected sex without even telling me?” It hit me hard. I knew it word by word. That’s how hard it had hit me. I lied to him. I told him “It was after we met”. But it was long before. 

You see, the problem was. If I did have HIV before meeting Gordon, then I would have transmitted it to him. And that was my dilemma. I lied to him, and I remember imagining how terrifying the whole situation was. Imagining myself getting tested positive for an STD, having my parents find out, having to take those meds, having Gordon get angry with me...Why are you so affected by Gordon? He’s just a guy. Well you see, he’s not just a guy. That night, he picked me up, I was crying. The ride to his home was silent. He held my hand and told me everything was going to be okay. He ordered pizza and lasagna and we watched a movie. I felt better. He dropped me home and that was that. The reason why I tell you this is because I felt like Gordon was kind of like my dad. Or, what I wished my dad was more like. For most of my childhood my dad was never home, nor did I ever see him, because he was always out for work, or travelling. Now that he’s out of work, he’s always with my younger brother. I get pissed, not gonna lie, I’ve never really had a dad to truly, you know, be there, be my pal, be my buddy. Gordon embodied everything in a dad that I wanted. 

A few days later I told my mom that I needed to go to the doctor because my cough had lasted for over a month (which was true). So I did. They came with me. We went to the walk-in clinic and when the nurse called my name I went inside the room. My mom smiled at me, I gave her a sympathetic smile, almost a sad smile, not knowing the whole truth to me. So I sat down at the office, waiting impatiently for the doctor to show up. I told him my symptoms, yet, he said everything was fine. What I found really struggling to get out of my mouth was saying that I had sex. It was embarrassing. He gave me some papers and told me to get tested at the lab nearby. And that was that.

When I got home, I texted Gordon. I told him I got the papers and was wondering if he could drive me there after school on Friday. For the rest of the week, it felt like there was this cloud just following me. Like there was some sort of grey smog or some blurry thing in the back of my mind. Just the thought of testing positive for the STD made me sick. I had diarrhea for 3 days straight. I couldn’t focus in any of my classes. I got behind in chem, but surprisingly not social. I kept ditching psych class.When Friday finally came, I got off at Fishcreek and Gordon picked me up. We went to his house, and I remember staying there for a couple of hours...Just laying with him in the couch...pondering my decisions and what the fuck I became. I told him “maybe I shouldn’t get tested...What if it’s not accurate”. But really I was just scared. I think it was around 3 hours later that I actually mustered up my courage to say, hey, let’s fucking go. So we did. We drove to the medical hospital. Floor 2 was the lab. I walked in there, anxious as fuck. I waited in line, and there was this dude just staring at me. He got tested too, you could tell by the bandaid in his arm. Anyway, he stared at me, probably thinking, “What is this kid doing here getting tested for STDs?”. When we finally reached the reception, she asked for my papers and my Alberta health card (which I stole from my mom’s wallet a week ago) and we sat down. It was around 30 minutes later that a nurse called me to a room. I walked there, nervous obviously. I told her I never got tested before. She was sweet. Around her 40s probably. Deep wrinkles in her eyes, cheeks, but a very wide smile and a soothing voice. The needle didn’t hurt, I just kept talking to her, distracting myself. “How long have you worked here?” “Are you all registered nurses in this lab?” You know, all those bullshit questions. After all that was done, I had to take a urine sample. I pissed in the vial, put it in the compartment and the rest was history. 

Little did I know that this was the final and last time that I would ever see Gordon. Right after the lab, I felt confident. Relieved actually. There was no more uncertainty. No more wondering. My fate was at their hands now. I remember this memory being very blissful. It was sunny and windy. No snow. Well, except for the ones on the ground. I remember we went to fatburger, he told me to get whatever I wanted on the menu. I felt like a little kid looking up at the candy shop. I ordered the biggest thing there. A double bacon cheese burger with sauteed mushrooms and onions. With fries on the side of course. Once we got our order we sat down. I apologized to Gordon right away. I told him that I was being an ass, being promiscuous behind his back. He told me jokingly “that’s what you get for being a little slut”. And you know what made me feel like shit? I’ll get into this later. But what made me feel like shit was up until this moment, I truly didn’t know Gordon. All I knew was that he was there for me when no else was. There was no one I could turn to for this. He could’ve easily just turned his back out of anger. But instead, he drove me there to get tested, he took me into his home like his own. For what? For a slutty teen who didn’t know any better? Who was being a slut behind his back? I was being unfaithful to him and yet, he still took me in. He told me about his past relationships with other guys, one recently he broke up with because, well you guessed it, he was cheating on Gordon. After we finished eating, he dropped me off to my house. I looked him in the eye before getting out and thanked him. He smiled. And that was the last smile I ever saw from Gordon. 

A few days later I matched with this one guy on Tindr, he was cute. His name was Owen, and his caption was “Part time straight”. I was generally curious as to what that was. I had no intention of hooking up or even hanging out for that matter. Just curious. So I messaged him saying “What does part time straight mean exactly?”. And we started talking. Few hours later he says he knew me from somewhere, and I did too, somewhat. I took a random guess since he did look like that one barista from Starbucks near our school...Coincidentally he was. We freaked. That was pretty funny. It took three days until we both agreed to meet up. Just for breakfast though. So we met up at Starbucks during my morning spare. We walked to Denny’s. I ordered a french toast with sausage and egg and bacon. That was delicious. We took an Uber back to school. I suggested he come into school and walk with me to class since he apparently had never been inside the school before. We got to my chem class, I patted him on the back and said bye. 

There was this topic we talked about in Denny’s. I asked him if he was gay. He said, for the most part. He asked me if I was gay. I said, “I’m not too sure”. I know I like girls. I can imagine myself with a woman. I can imagine myself having sex with a woman. Yet, I feel the same about men as well. But I don’t act feminine. Nor do I want to. Guess that was just who I was. “What’s that I called?” I asked him. He didn’t know. Well, he didn’t remember. When I sat down in chem class I got a text from him, a message stating one word: Hetero flexibility. 

We watched a movie the next day after class. It was the first time I was able to get close to him. Obviously. The theater is like the best place to make a move. We sat down as the movie played, nothing too exciting really. I mean if you count leaning on each other’s shoulders exciting, or touching knees. He confessed he wanted to hold my hand earlier in the theater, but I was too occupied with crossing my arms apparently. So we held hands on the train home.

I guess you could call Friday a date. We went to eat at a Korean restaurant, he made me try Bibimbap or whatever it’s called. It was okay. Then we went to downtown, first it was this lights museum. Pretty underwhelming to be honest. Then we went to the Bell Museum, I played guitar for him. And piano. And ukulele.I guess he liked that a lot. 

Our final stop was this park in downtown...I remember it so vividly. We walked down an icy trail...It wasn’t cold, it was breezy; but you could manage. We followed this trail, over a bridge going through a river, until we approached this massive hill in the center of the park. As we walked towards it, he said to me: “You know, you’re the first guy who I have no sexual intentions with”. I didn’t know how to respond. I actually forgot what I said because I was so caught up with the moment. We sat at the top. We over looked the skyline of the city. You could clearly see cars passing by the bridge over the river. The river slowly eroding away the ice and snow. Dead trees littered the landscape while the cool breeze fumbled with our hair. I remember revealing a lot of myself to him that one day. I remember telling him how I was so sick of hoking up and making meaningless memories. Constantly feeling empty and dull inside. I wanted something that mattered. I felt like I was looking at the mirror image of myself. He understood me. Truly. And I did too. And for once I actually felt a new emotion. It wasn’t lust or even love. it wasn’t friendship. I couldn’t describe it. I just knew I liked him. A lot. I told him “I’ll probably never find anyone like you again”. 

I remember I kissed him on that hill before I left. It was somewhat awkward. He leaned in and I turned away. I looked at the distance and I told him, “I’ve never done this before..” He replied, “What, kiss?”. “No, I’ve kissed. Many times. But those were all meaningless. It’s easy to kiss during hookups cause it doesn't matter. It was easy kissing my ex because I didn’t like her”. I told him he was different. It was hard for me to actually make a move because I truly did feel an emotional connection with him that I had never felt before.

That night he texted me saying much I truly meant to him. That we should cherish the last few months we had remaining. He proposed we go to Vancouver. I was down for that. Just the timing I told him. The fucking timing of it all. I wish I had never met him, or I had met him earlier. It crushes me. It breaks my fucking heart. I knew he was one out of billions.

Today before church, Gordon messaged me. He wondered how I was doing. I haven’t talked to him in a week. I replied immediately. I told him how much he truly meant to me. How he was there for me when he could have easily turned his back. I told him about Owen. I told him about how I found someone and I felt like an ass because here I am again, being a “slut” behind his back. After all he had done for me. This is how I repay him. 

That was hours ago. He hasn’t replied since.

Owen leaves tomorrow for Mexico. He left me his disposable camera to finish the remaining film so he could process it when he gets back. We switched jackets last friday. He still has mine, while I have his denim jacket. It smells exactly like him. 

[mypersonalcollections]

“You can just use me as experience...That sounds bad I know”

[mypersonalcollections]

Ticking

He was all I was looking for. I think after all this time, I’ve truly found someone who completed me.

I never felt this way. Ever. He makes me happy. It felt good that I did the same to him.

We sat on top of a hill, overlooking the skyline of the city. The cool winter breeze grazing our skin. Hair flying in a mess. Two little geese quacked as they, too, climbed up the hill. The trees were dead. The snow was melting. Puddles of mud littered the ground while the river’s current  slowly eroded away the ice and snow. 

We sat together, looking in silence. He told me he liked me. That I made him happy. I told him the same. 

I’ve never felt so...calm. So peaceful. I never felt so at peace with myself and with someone. I’ve never connected with someone so emotionally deep like I had with him. 

I told him I was tired of having meaningless connections. I was tired of all these meaningless hookups. Meaningless memories. Meaningless everything. I wanted something that mattered.

We both knew I was leaving in three months. I told him, 

“I just don’t see the point...We’re doing all of this, but for what? If I’m leaving anyway”

“I guess we make the most of it” He replied.

It crushes me. It fucking sucks. I told him,

“Just bad timing”

And we both accepted it. I guess this is life. I’ve told myself that the meaning of life was to make connections. Meaningful ones. Connections and memories that had significance, that taught me lessons, that taught me how to grow. In the small hours we had, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. 

Perhaps he was one in a million. I may never truly find someone like him again.

Ticking.

[mypersonalcollections]

The waiting game.

Facing the abyss of uncertainty

I’m somewhat relieved, that’s for sure. But there are other side of things.

Lord, give me the strength and grant me mercy that I may be given once more a chance to redeem myself. 

I will not take it for granted.

[mypersonalcollections]

I just want to go back

If I could just go back I would. 

Hey, good news. I got accepted to UofT. I was hoping for the St. George campus, the one in downtown Toronto, but I got accepted to the one in Mississauga. I mean, it’s not that bad. I’ll be transferring to the Bloomberg Nursing Campus in Toronto regardless (hopefully), so I’ll finally be in the city life that I always dreamed of. 

Everyone congratulated me, my parents, my friends, my parent’s friends...I was pretty happy, for the most part. 

My mom was so proud of me. She couldn’t stop talking about how proud she was. 

Little did she know of my secret.

Two weeks ago I had spring break. I had a few friends, but I guess not enough to satisfy my loneliness...I didn’t want to pester them to hang out. I knew they were busy. I recently came out to them, saying I was bi. I felt comfortable, happy, and felt invincible that I had nothing left to hide. That’s when it all went down hill.

I downloaded Grindr again, hoping to meet some new gay friends. I wasn’t scared of exposure anymore, I was comfortable. I met friends, and I was happy. 

The biggest mistake I made was acting on my dick. Not sure what that means? It means making decisions when you’re horny. And I made terrible decisions. 

I had sex.

Great?

Unprotected Sex.

Not so great.

Over this week I’ve been anxious, stressed out, and left sleepless at nights, wondering if I had infected my body with such diseases. If I could go back, if I could just go back in time...

Yesterday I went to the walk-in clinic for my doctor. I made an excuse to my om saying it’s about my cough, when really it was about getting tested for any STI’s. I was terrified. I was embarrassed and ashamed just talking to my doctor. 

I didn’t even know who I was...A seventeen year old, who just got accepted to his first choice of university should not even be worrying about this. I should be celebrating, planning, making the most of my times with my friends. But instead I’m here waiting for the uncertainty. 

I keep convincing myself that I don’t have any STI’s...Or the dreaded HIV disease...God I hope not. I’m going to get tested tomorrow...But I read online that the tests are only accurate about three months after the initial exposure.

God... I feel so dirty. I feel so ashamed and disgusted of myself. I hate my promiscuity. It makes me never want to have sex ever again.

All I have to do is wait now. Wait, wait wait. Staring through the blank canvas of uncertainty. 

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting for that one day. That one fucking day, that a flu or some sort of sickness hits me. And I’ll know. I’ll know.

I’m scheduled to get tested on Friday after school with a friend. I’m terrified. Even if it’s a negative result, it may not be entirely accurate, and I’ll still be worrying.

If I could just go back. If I could just go fucking back.

I’m so restless. If God can give me just one last chance, I promise I will not take it for granted. 

I’ve already imagined the doctor, or the nurse, calling me back on the phone, telling me I have to schedule an appointment to the doctor’s office. Then I have to make up some excuse to go to the doctor’s behind my parents’ back.

I’ll sit down, they tell me I have HIV. Or some other sort of disease...I’ll cry, I’ll bawl my eyes out. I’m forced to call my parents, busy celebrating my recent success of my admission to university. They’ll get a call, they pick up,

“I have an STD because I had unprotected sex, I’m so sorry”

They’ll be mad, they’ll be really mad. My dad hasn’t even found work yet. Our income is composed of my mom working 6 days a week in the nursing home, while my dad works in 7/11 every other weekday. Imagine that. All our income from those two jobs going to university tuition, my residency, my meal plan, my education, and on top of that,

My fucking HIV pills that I have to take every day, every month, every year, for the rest of my life. Spending money on pills constantly being reminding of that one fuck-up that I had in Spring break when I was 17. 

I’ll forever be reminded of my recklessness and my idiocy till the day I finally die. 

Of course, this may not even happen. I’m preparing for the worst. But I know deep down inside, I’m still hopeful. I’m still hopeful that I don’t have an STI. That God has given me one last chance, one last test to learn from before I eventually go away.

I pray to God that this is the case. I won’t be able to live myself if the test comes back positive. 

[mypersonalcollections]

I’ve had this headache for three days now. I can’t seem to get rid of it. A constant feeling of dizziness and each step vibrates my skull which, for some reason, feels like my cranium is desperately trying to set itself free. 

I came home, angry and hungry. Mostly hungry. Though not even that full meal of rice and curry was able to satisfy me. Its just in the corner of my room now, half-eaten, growing cold. I should probably soak that in the sink soon. 

I feel a constant chill, like there’s a slight breeze seeping its way into the cracks of my windows. I can’t sit still/ I can’t lie still. I can’t think.

My life is a fuckin roller coaster. I hate it. 

Some days I feel like I’m on top of the world, impermeable to anything the universe can throw at me. A king, ready to rule, open to everyone who approaches. 

Yet, in those days, I would have to remind myself that it will not last. I fucking hate it. This will all probably vanish tomorrow, and I’ll be ready. Fuck this post I can’t even write. I just want to be happy and feel like I belong for once

[mypersonalcollections]

Character Profile: Ian

Ian is afraid of those who are more confident than he is. It prevents him from truly interacting the way he wants to and therefore makes it harder for him to show them his “true” character. The reason for this is because although Ian is starting to become somewhat confident, he still lacks an aspect of it and still believes he is inferiors to some of his peers. Possibly due to the two years of taking the IB Program and constantly getting mocked and stepped over by his classmates, he was led believe that he was a beta male, inferior, idiotic, and never had a say in anything. 

Ian has friends and acquaintances. He has friends that are similar to himself, somewhat reserved, quiet, intellectual, and are not “obnoxious” as he had described them to be. 

Ian is grateful for these friends, although he still longs to be part of those other groups of boys. Those boys that Ian envies who plays basketball, travels as a pack together down the halls, those boys who are loud, obnoxious, and most of all -confident. 

Ian has developed a superiority complex thinking he is better than his peers for being more reserved and soft spoken. He believes that those who keep their mouth shut will ultimately triumph. 

Ian wishes misfortune on those he envies. He envies the boys that are both popular and loud spoken, while at the same time being able to balance out good grades and social life. He hates these people for he cannot have both. 

Ian had chosen to apply to universities away from his home town, convincing himself that it will bring more opportunities for him, when in reality it is his escape. He envies the boys in his grade and cannot stand watching them become successful, not knowing that he should be focusing on his own success instead. 

Ian cannot seem to fit in, and is more of a drifter than belonging to any particular clique. It is one the reasons as to why he refuses to go to his own graduation banquet. 

Ian is a little bitch that will take no more shit from anybody. He is learning to control this anger and convert it into motivation in hopes that in the future he will one day be wealthy enough to surpass or be up-to-par with his colleagues. 

Ian vows to gain revenge on those who had wronged him.

[mypersonalcollections]

I Could Never Be You

I could never be you, 

I’ve always wanted to. You were an idiot and obnoxious; irresponsible, yet I wanted to be you. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be desired for. I wanted to be the life of the party. 

So I did.

I became you. Just for a while. I slipped into your skin, and mimicked your very movement. Your tone. Your speech. Your outlook on the world. Perhaps if I was you, my world would be complete. And I would be fixed. 

When you left,

I took your place. People say I reminded them of you. Perhaps it was an accomplishment. A sigh of relief went through my being. But yet they questioned for you, they wondered where you were. Was I only a placeholder for you? 

I remembered the days where we were on par, side by side as equals. I felt a sense of belonging and a sense of purpose. But you always seemed to be above me.

When you returned,

I was glad. Everyone was. Yet as I walked towards your direction, surrounded by countless people, I knew. Ever since, things were never the same. And I became distant; longing for a life I could never have. 

I was but one of many he had touched,

Like a pebble radiating ripples through an undisturbed pond.

As I sat alone watching you from the corner I realized,

I could never be you.