I am officially done with that boy. Yesterday I saw him at school and tried to get an answer out of him, but he just fed me a bullshit excuse about not being around for why he was ignoring me. I asked him to call me that night, and for whatever stupid reason I believed he would. I finally realized he wasn't going to when I was crying to a silent phone at 11 at night.
I went to bed, tired and defeated down to the core. I decided I was going to confront him today in the hall and try to get an answer out of him. I was in bed for not even a minute before I got back out. "No, no, this isn't right..." I thought. I finally acknowledged in that moment that things were not going to work out. I was making a mistake by waiting yet another day, and I was doing nothing but hurting myself over a guy who doesn't even deserve my love.
I walked downstairs. It was time for me to send him one more message. This message wasn't a plea like my last several were--this one was a firm and resolute decree: this is over. And I did something that surprised me--I kept on writing. I wrote that I knew he was hurting; I wrote that I would help him. When I came out, I had no one. Sure, my friends supported me, but not nearly enough. We were freshmen; we were young. No one had ever even met a gay person, yet alone had advice to give one. I don't want him to go through the same thing. With his incredibly erratic behavior, I'm extremely worried about him. I just hope he has the common sense to reach out and take what I have offered.
As I hit the send button, I began to cry. The tears blurred the white glow of the screen, and as I walked up the stairs, my jaw began to tighten, and my chin began to quiver. I walked in my room and fell atop the bed; the pillow hid the sobs erupting from my chapped, brittle lips. My weeping was great and heaving, like I was choking on the bones of a once mighty beast. My lungs shook like the foundation a toppling house. And I thought such beautiful thoughts.
"You are a beautiful creature, Matt--one of the most beautiful creatures this world has ever known. Don't you ever, ever forget that. You are beautiful in your laughing and in your crying, in your singing and in your silence. You are stronger than steel; you are stronger than stars. But most of all, you are alone, and you are your own. And a beauty such as that is one few people know."
The breath is very important to Buddhists. The truth of existence can be summed up in one breath--in and out. I have never known this truth so clearly as I did last night. When we like something, we breathe it in. We breathe it in and we breathe it in and we breathe it in until we cannot hold another ounce of air, and we hope against all hope that we could have just one more sip. We hold our breath until we become purple in the face, and we feel our lungs are about to explode. Then, if we want to live, we must let go. Choking back tears, we slowly exhale the sweet breath which we have mustered, until we feel that last bit of air escape our lungs with a deep heaviness in our hearts. Then we breathe again.