Mar. S

javier's picture

Hello Im back, but it'll be in distances of time when I write again

I went to the library and started reading Ulysses. It's really great although I didn't check it out but will. To my surprise I actually understood what was going on.

For a scholarship about gay rights I could write about my experiences so I begun that although I have no idea what the point of what I've learned has to do with my life now.

On a side note I've been reading william blake's work and I might apply an organized innocence philosophy to my life

So far I've written this (I know it's not great, don't crucify me):

There’s nothing special about my experiences because it’s the truth
Mother told me February 4, around 9 am, outside a child psychology office I will love you regardless of your sexuality and your siblings too. They don’t care about your sexuality because you’re their brother. And you’re my son. Palms quickly became sweaty as usual when my anxiety builds up and nervousness invades my mind. I didn’t say a word because I couldn’t. So we didn’t say anything. I didn’t cry.
Sister told me three years ago at home What the -- are you printing? Something, about gay rights, yelling angrily at the possibility I might be. It was a photo of a young woman with dyed pink hair, I liked it. Hearing words like that isn’t uncommon so I ran to my room and she followed, cursing not knowing what damage she’d done. She didn’t care, she was mad. I cried.
Brother said to me three years ago after we fought Pinche joto, Spanish for fucking faggot. I was mad but didn’t cry. Mother, laying on her bed overheard. Nothing else happened.
Years of terrible things said and done led to a fence built around myself, emotionally and mentally. After suffering a mental breakdown I remained in therapy, left for a brief period of time, and now am returning. Before it was worse and now it’s the same without the fighting and manic episodes. A hole on a bedroom door made by a baseball bat marks a time of despair. Glass shattered from a candle, tears streaming down my cheeks like great waterfalls, dropping to the ground littered with notes and cards from dear friends, movie boxes on top of another, cds as well, chaotic scene of all my worthless possessions Yelling, crying for help when there’s not a soul at home, running to the bathroom splashing water on my face. Get it together, get it together I said. No one knows it happened except I and I don’t want to know. Get it together

Comments

elph's picture

Atelier?

That subject line: Atelier MAR.S? If so, great collection of paintings and drawings!

I think I like your mom; your sister... however? But, don't ever lose your mom!

I think it is human nature to longingly look forward to future events... possible dreams as well as plans that are firm.

Why don't you focus on just one of each... and share with us?

I think you'd enjoy that... yes?