Man, this week has been so crazyweird. I've been in the strangest moods. I've just been feeling really sad and anti-social. Damn hormones. Who needs em, anyway? Menopausal women, that's who. Harumph!
I think the weight of the world is finally getting to me. As I'm sure all of you know, being gay (or LBT) is tough. And it always seems hardest in these moments, when you're sitting by yourself in front of a computer, the bar of chocolate before you half-eaten (God, where would I be without Toblerone?) and the night about you half-finished. Reflecting on this past week, the thing that really bothered me was how utterly different I felt. Usually I rejoice in the fact, but not as of late. Like I went to a shin-dig at my friend's on Friday and there were lots of sha-veet peeps there, so I thought I was going to have a snazzy old time. But to my chagrin, I was Angst City, USA. I looked around me and saw all straight people--all people who didn't understand the bargain-bin of unique problems I face everyday or the battles I'm constantly fighting with no reinforcements in sight. I need more gay in my life, damn it! Too bad there are only a handful of out gay people at my school and all but 5 or so are either creepy like the Dickens or mentally retarded.
And by Buddha and all of his jiggly jelly rolls, I need a boyfriend! It's driving me not only up the wall, but left, right, and down the wall, too. Every dream I've remembered this week has been about a love interest. One was about a quasi-ex (quasi because it really wasn't much of a relationship...it was basically phone tag for two months and hanging out a few times...my virgin lips have no regrets), one about a crushed crush (this bitch I wrote about a few journal entries back), and one about...WHAT? A girl!?!? I have no idea where that one came from. I guess I'm just getting that desperate. If I don't find me some man flesh soon, I think I just might become asexual! Yeesh.
And as always, my family is a constant source of insanity. My mom has simply been a shitified bitchophone lately. I can't get through an hour without her harping on me. I just want to tell her off and explain how lucky she really is. All narcissism aside, she has a beautiful and gifted son who works hard and is going to go far as all get out in this world. Not everyone has that. I don't know why she can't appreciate it. I think the problem is my dad. He's an alcoholic. Five or six nights out of the week he'll be at a bar drinking till midnight. And that's gotta be hard for her. I'm pretty sure the only reason my parents are still together is because of my siblings and me. Once we're all set, they'll split faster than you can say, "Prenup!" I just wonder sometimes what it'd be like to have a regular dad who comes home at night and actually talks to his kids instead of empty bottles. Or to not wake up in the middle of the night half the time to the sound of my dad wretching his guts out in the bathroom. Or what it'd be like to not have to worry about having to shoo Pops out of my room at 1 in the morning because he's too plastered to recognize his own. It hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts me, it hurts my brothers and sisters, it hurts my mom. It hurts everyone. But he's too stubborn to admit he has a problem or listen to a single word we say. I just don't know what to do sometimes, other than grin and bear it. And I do that too well. I just laugh all of it away. I laugh when he stands at the front door for ten minutes because he's too drunk to aim his key in the door and I laugh at how red his nose can get. What else am I supposed to do? I'm too strong to cry and too weak to do something about it. I just live my life and act like nothing's wrong--a giggling stoic. I don't know whether to think it heroic or pathetic, but either way it's life and I'm living it, god damn it. By all the stars in the sky and all the waves in the sea, this is my life and I'll see it through. Fly with me or die with me, we're gonna make it through, everybody. We really are.