confession #2

It’s not odd how everything comes down to this depth sometimes, given my choices and the way I refuse to change – my psychologist would say I have no desire to change yet. An acquaintance of mine told me, some weeks ago, he knows me since 2006 and I’ve stuck in time. Maybe they’re right, but what else am I waiting to happen before I can change? Is this who I am? Maybe I’m far too anxious to know where my life is going to get – if anywhere. To be quite honest, I’m so terminally lonely no matter what, I need someone so badly. But not anyone… I’m a beggar who refuses things that are given to him. Does this make me even more unworthy and ridiculous? Who am I to be picky? Tonight there is a bright night outside, and it feels like the sun is going to come out anytime, which just makes me feel even worse. You know how I hate the dawn, don’t you? Nevermind.
I’m in love, breathing and needing desperately (but, as he once said “what don’t you need desperately?”) a finnish autist. If this was a sitcom, this would be where the fake audience would laugh. Thing is, this is no sitcom. This is an unpopular maudlin story. The show isn’t going to end anytime soon, no one’s getting paid to perform (they’d be paying not to). My psychologist and pretty much all of the people who have been able to put up with me, this depressive and depressing creature, say that the theory that I’m always falling in love with people from different continents means that I’m afraid of my sexuality. Maybe they don’t know (because, after all, no one can walk in anyone’s shoes) how much I’ve tried with people who lived quite close to me. Was I afraid of my sexuality back then? Probably much more than I am now. How is this my fault?
I know he probably can’t express his feeling, though he tries his best, but everything hurts. I probably see him as my reflection, as my soulmate, as someone who’s basically me (minus the autism I actually wished I had – yes, you should be thinking I’m stupid – so that I could actually put a name on what’s wrong with me and hide like a coward behind it). By saving him – and I’d give so much for it –, I’d see there’s salvation for me too. The idea that we could save each other, though, is unlikely. I wish he could find a girlfriend (yes, a girlfriend, so society wouldn’t hurt him), and every single one of my friends could find their love too, somewhere. There just seems to be no way out for me. And every single time I have an erotic dream (yes, absolutely everytime), someone always walks in before I can actually do anything. Not even in dreams do I get the chance.
Whenever I go out, it’s “How Soon is Now” all over again, you know? It’s not like it hasn’t been done or tried. Plus I keep thinking how better is it back at home, with my music and my stuff. Fuck, man, fuck… I feel like I know all there is to know about me, plus the fact that there isn’t a fucking thing to be done. Just wait. And wait. With no guarantee (yes, life has no guarantees, thanks for warning me). If I could just hug W and K for a while. Maybe see Neto again, too, while he was passing through the same street I was. Hey, as long as I’m asking for things that won’t happen in my platonic relationship, imaginary, fucked up, emotionally shattered and hopeless world, I can have three wishes. None of these things will happen anyway. This genius has fled, the lamp is broken to pieces.
And I feel like I should be happy by being a middle class son. I can buy most things I want. If I killed myself, people would say “why did he do that? He had EVERYTHING”. Everything? If this is everything, I’m not very curious to see how people can live with less. There’s emptiness all around. Most people would kill to be in my position, with the wonderful parents I have, nice family and some loyal friends. I don’t deserve any of these, behaving the way I do. And what makes me the most angry is that, after all this emotional vomit, some people would just call me juvenile. “Grow up, be a man and close your mealy mouth”, right? There are people in much worse condition than you. Why does it make me angry? Because it’s true. I’m a child and everything must turn my way otherwise I get angry or sad. Please vomit.
I’m so sick of me, also. Sick of not finding a way out. Sick of walking my path to my 21st birthday and never having had anyone ever. Sick of not knowing where I fit in, professionally. There’s no hope, just nothing to do. “The story is old, I know, but it goes on”. And there’s nothing no one can say about it, except:
- I hope things get better.
- :(
- Damn, Yu…
- …
And I don’t know how long I can take this. These same problems over and over again. No one can help me with words. Will anything I deeply need ever be granted to someone like me? I’m not a bad person, I swear… I’m just terminally hopeless.