So long, my person

Last night, I watched you struggle on top of me. What a waste of my time.

I spent years and years trying to understand what is it exactly that I feel I need from you and why did I hold you so close to my heart. You fed into this inanity and let me believe that there is something worth feeling. That there is time worth spending with you and that the single compromise I knotted skillfully and firmly to my chest is worth reaching.

I said what I said to you while you were sweating on top of me not because I had intended to emasculate you, but simply because I needed to put an end to my foolishness and your thoughtless desires of me I asked you those questions precisely at that time because you owed me answers and not immature euphoria. In case you hadn’t notice, my love – a boner is something I know very well.

We are both old now – we have grown and you have said this to me too. But why is it that you don’t know how to handle a man? Why could you not just admit you had no idea what to do and that what had happened years ago happened because we were there then and we were who we were then? Why did you allow things to get to this point? A point where I had to break you to build you.

You have always admired the fact that I am blunt, you have said this to me before. I cannot help but wonder what you think of my bluntness now.

I still love you though, but it feels good to know for sure that you and I will never be. And, I am sorry for playing part in pursuing something I could have otherwise discouraged us from trailing. I hope you find whatever it is that you are looking for. And, I hope you will grow up to know and understand what sexuality is.

Happy read!

Potable water under the bridge

All it took was to lay my eyes on you, and all the 2008 memories sailed back. That brief five seconds I held you in my arms felt like infinity and right there I knew I’d be seeing you again, very soon. That knowledge became a reality that night and the day after until I realised, just like it once dawned on me seven years ago, we’re going nowhere slowly.

What is different this time around is the fact that I am wide awake and for once it looks as if you’re wounded by my maturity and disappointed that I found it easy to leave and never called; so much so you saw it fitting to antagonize my unfamiliar demeanors.

I’ll admit, I missed you. In fact, I want to be with you right this minute. Perhaps this is possible in my thirties – not in my twenties. Maybe you really are the love of my life and that your lingering taste in my mouth will be something I invigorate for as long as I find you sexually attractive. It’s also possible that you and I will merely live in sin and will continue to regularly make romantic and sexual overtures towards each other, and subsequently live to be loathed by many.

Drafting this post, it feels like I’m 22 years old all over again. God knows; I see you, I just want to fuck your brains out. The fact that your memories of me are simply the best and that in your mind I’m an angel is not helping. The fact that we both know that, every now and then, I romanticize the idea of having you stimulate my anterior rectal wall is not helping. The fact that there the question of whether or not I’d enjoy this remains a mystery is not helping.

One minute, I see us working. But knowing that you have no intention to even try and understand the concept of conciliation in our situation dislocates all prospects. Honestly, I despise this about you – which makes me wonder why I still hold you in such high regard to the extent that your soft sneeze would tear the impenetrable membrane that covers my heart.

Other times, the reality is inevitable and of course excruciating just by observing my friends’ facial expressions whenever your name comes up then I’m subjected to “are you okay?” and “say one word, and I’ll make him disappear” or “you don’t have to see him” sentiments. This is all because they care. Yet, here we are; entertaining the idea of making it work knowing very well this would never work. My poor friends…

Man, I love you. But this has to stop.

You have to work with me and help me let you go. Please help me stop hoping that one day you and I will run away together. Help me stop thinking that one day you will change for me or that I’d ever accept your irrational and selfish justifications.

There is a high possibility I’m lying to myself and that I’m fighting the inescapable; you and I truly belong together. Perhaps, I have to go back and experience once more what used to be in order to swiftly move on to the next chapter. A big part of me wishes that I’d pretend to make it work and have you hurt me in every sense of the word. Maybe then, it would be easy letting you go. But I also know for sure that doing this will damage my career; the one thing that seems to bring me constant joy. So, no.

I don’t know what to do.

Happy read!