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RYLA, anyone?

So. A lot has happened since I last updated. I came out to my parents, I fell out of love with a guy, in love with a girl, out of love with that girl, and now I'm falling for another girl from this conference I went to last weekend. At said conference (Rotary Youth Leadership Awards, or RYLA), I became less shy and much happier overall. I would kind of like to go into more detail in everything, but it's really late here and I have acting intensive camp tomorrow. So g'night, all...

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Perspective of an Audience Member

The stars are lonely beacons now:
Lights of others' lives, energy from others' sorrows.
They call for me to join them,
But what have I to give?
These leaden weights inside of me weigh me down.
Where are my emotions?
The stars, they play and wink,
Beckon, beckon...
But I close my mind
Watching, always just watching the light.

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The not-so-silent Day of Silence signup

Hi everyone, I'm back! I've been too busy to come on for a while. And my mom's been working nonstop in the computer room before she got laid off last Friday (and after, too... for some reason she felt an obligation to finish a project without pay for the company that fired her...). And I didn't go on when she was there, because she suspects my queerness way too much already.

I've been rather insecure and angry at myself a lot lately. And it kind of reduces me to hardly speaking at all, or telling myself I sounded really stupid when I do. It's not good. I think I'm losing touch with reality, with what to think, so insecurity is moving in instead. Since I've started questioning most thoughts that run through my head, searching for truth and denial, I've withdrawn further and further into myself. And hated myself more and more. I just don't know what to do anymore.

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About a month ago, I wrote this character study for my drama class, and I thought it was a good image of my mom:

I am sitting on the hard gray-blue of my computer chair, absorbed in the blue-tinted light emanating from the computer screen and reflecting off my face. I’m off in my own numb, instantaneous slow-moving world: the Internet.

My mother opens the office door that we can never get to close all the way and picks her way through the piles of stuff to her desk. She moves slowly, her shoulders hunched slightly, holding herself with no confidence or pride: she is broken by exhaustion. Her face is lined, closed, but her eyes pierce me with depth.

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The Finale

My high school just did a production of the musical Pippin and I was in the chorus. Last night was closing night, and during the finale I noticed something that I hadn’t noticed before which I used as a basis for my acting my character’s part.

In Pippin’s finale, the Leading Players—they’re kind of sinister narrators/ringleaders that run the show—try to convince the main character, Pippin, to burn himself in a box of flame as “the one perfect act in their repertoire.

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before I say nothing

Listen, I need to talk to you.
I haven't been talking to anyone in a while and I'm sort of overwhelmed with a whole lot of things--
I just need someone to listen, someone to care, hug, advise
Listen, I--
I guess it starts with--
See, it's like--
I mean, I'm--


Just spit out the word, spit it out. Just say it. It's three syllables. Only one if you want. But they might mishear you if you only say "bi" in that quiet voice of yours, and then you'd have to say it again--

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What is wrong with me? Why am I so sad? How can I have been so sad for so long without even knowing what it is I am depressed about it? Why am I so lonely and insecure? Can’t I bring myself out of this, come into myself and out of this bubble? Why am I despairing? I feel defeated and alone.

And I don’t even know why.

I feel like crying a lot of the time, but I only let it out when I am alone. I’m tired of crying into my parent’s shoulders, exasperated with what comfort they give and not wanting to worry about burdening them. And I have nowhere else to go.

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Out of the Deep (And into the Shallow)

I am so shallow. I didn't used to be this way, I used to look beneath the person's face for love, but now I am only enthused by pretty faces. While it is fun to be so shallow sometimes, I feel guilty about it.

Take yesterday, for example. I went to a friend's house for a Lord of the Rings movie marathon of all three movies. It was really fun--think 14 hours of either watching or eating or laughing or all three in some combination. I hadn't seen the movies before, as I wanted to read the books first and it was slow reading. Anyway, everyone in that movie is SO PRETTY.

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The Porcelain Heart

I think this is destined to be a very random, stream-of-conscioussness entry. Bear with me...

As I was reading through everyone's journal entries today, I noticed how all of them were dealing with changes... like big emotional changes or life choices or just something important. I mean, some days everyone's entries are inconsequential, trivial, or they deal with the same kinds of problems. Maybe it's just the odd, yet peaceful and content mood I'm in, but I just thought that was sort of interesting. And I felt guilty for not commenting on anyone's specifically...

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Love and Livers

Thursday, February 10

He's dying.

He's dying, isn't he? He doesn't think so--he thinks he'll get a transplant, recieve life from the death of someone who cared.

But my mom talks about him in the way he talked about the election when had I still hoped. "You know, Bush is probably going to win, and we'll have to live with him for four more years," he would say. My mother sits in her computer chair, bends over her laptop, then collapses back into the chair, sighing, "He really needs a new liver."

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Don't lie to me.

I know it's an impossible thing to ask;
We are always lying, lying our lives off, acting some ingrained, meaningless part.

I know it's hypocritical of me to ask,
I know I am lying,
But I would love to see us without the fabric of our lies--

We would be beautiful, naked in our now-known truth.
For a moment...
We cannot hope for more than a moment of truth.

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Do you count to ten?

You know the statistic that one in every ten people is queer? Sometimes when I'm in a room with a lot of people, I can't get that thought out of my head and I sit counting people to see how many in this room are statistically queer.

"One two three four five six seven eight nine TEN! One two three four five six..." and so on.

It is utterly depressing to think that there are only two queer people in my Algebra class. And then, when I subtract myself, there is only one other. And it could be that unattractive guy in the corner...

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I wrote this when I had a fever, but it still made me smile even when I got better so I decided to post it:

I am old, and gay, and beautiful
And if anyone tells me otherwise
I smile, like a sunbeam eight minutes from the sun's surface
And tell them:

Once I was young, and gay, and innocent
And I kissed women under the distant stars and the soft blue sky
And I smiled-in-love
The moonlight caught in my eyes

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How are you? (reprise)

My other cousin, the sister of the cousin that visited last thanksgiving, is here for the week.

"So how are you doing?" She asks, trying to distract herself from the close friend/boyfriend she saw nonstop last week.

"Fine... Well, maybe not." I say at her don't-lie-to-me-glance. The pain and confusion in my eyes is more apparent than I thought it was, it seems. I was not in the best mood yesterday.

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How to erase one's history and other babblings...

I should be studying for my honors civ midyear tomorrow, I havent studied at all and I'm so dead. But I'm not, I'm here. As usual.

After my English midyear today, I saw this incredibly cute girl and I could not stop looking at her. I was with one of my friends and I (rather obviously) tried to stop staring. I'm seeing hot girls everywhere. It's insane! I feel so shallow. All of a sudden I'm so obsessed with how girls look, with how much I want a girl to like me.

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