Revivification
It's been more than 10 years since the last time I've updated this journal and, for posterity, I mean to keep the same old ratty design that I had picked. Yes, it won't be "responsive" or "mobile friendly," just some of the many buzzwords that you encounter when talking about the internet these days... but this will do. After all, I can keep my feelings here are tried and true to who I am without compromise. And there's something freeing about that. You know, the feeling of being able to shout your thoughts -- or just scream -- into a void with no one but, maybe, a select few to hear. Or maybe not.
Really, it doesn't matter. What matters is how I feel today and what eventually I want to feel tomorrow, a burden of thought that has plagued me since I moved away from California and into a foreign state known by many simply as "Portlandia." At first, the thought of moving here... and by here, I talk about the latter and not the former... everything was going to be fine. I met this wonderful fellow named James and we hit it off after swapping saliva when he visited me during a vacation in California. At the time, I was living with Sam. Sam and I were almost siblings. We lived with each other for several years, and we were there for each other when we were hurt by romantic advances. I had been single for years, taking pleasure in discovering my inner-self after my fiancee and I had cancelled our engagement in 2010 and Sam provided the right amount of distraction and... well... indifference to the situation. He'd always been there for me and encouraged me to push myself out there and be strong. But something held me back. I didn't know what it really was.
James came along at the time when Sam was in need of my help. I loved James and for what he stood for: he wanted a girlfriend to communicate with him when they needed to the most, and I swooned at his red hair and delicious biceps - both of which he'd purposely understated in his Twitch streams, the place I met him at. One day he'd spend $80 to catch my attention when I was streaming with a donation and the rest was history. One day, he asked me seriously what we were and we both agreed that we wanted to take it to the next level -- and so he came and visited me over the holidays.
Sam had a major surgery scheduled just prior to Christmas and he had asked me to help him out. I had foolishly and excitedly tooled him that James was coming over and he was angry and felt betrayed. I won't bother with the details here, but it wasn't good. He was furious, as he needed my help during this time and was angry that I had dropped everything... him... for another guy.
Our friendship ended that fateful day. He had asked me if this was it, and if our friendship was worth ending because of James. I wished I was smart.
Sam never spoke to me after that day, but then a year after this, James urged me to move with him here and so I acquiesced. Even if I didn't have income he said he'd support me. One year later, I feel like I'm imprisoned.
James was playing a game called Hitman and I tried giving him nitpicky suggestions on how he can save time in the game to help him with his mission when he snapped. He told me that he was annoyed by what I'm saying and told me that I was childish with how I'd spoken to him. He then slammed the door of his car behind him and drove off to wherever for 2 or so hours.
I wish this was just this one night, but it wasn't. It happens every so often, with me always being criticized for being how I am and how I act. There have been times that I've felt that I should run away, but here I am: imprisoned by my feelings and my thoughts, with no other solace than you, dear reader.
In these moments, I think about Sam and how much I miss him. I wrote to Sam last year, attempting to apologize to him about what happened. But he had made it clear that he would never forgive my transgressions. As I sit here and type this, I'm well aware that my excitement and greed overtook me. I'll even admit one more thing, dear reader.
I think I loved Sam, all along.
But I was too scared to tell him about it all this time. This time, it was too late...
I messed up.
Feelings of regret fill my head as memories of wonderful times flood my brain. Of me and Sam. Of what could have been. I still remember his laughter, his wit, his joie de vivre, even though he didn't earn or was as popular as he always says he is. The times when he'd even help me - poorly - put make up on as we partied the nights away.
I'm so, so sorry Sam.
I love you so much.
I miss your touch, your smile, your everything.
I'm so sorry.
Really, it doesn't matter. What matters is how I feel today and what eventually I want to feel tomorrow, a burden of thought that has plagued me since I moved away from California and into a foreign state known by many simply as "Portlandia." At first, the thought of moving here... and by here, I talk about the latter and not the former... everything was going to be fine. I met this wonderful fellow named James and we hit it off after swapping saliva when he visited me during a vacation in California. At the time, I was living with Sam. Sam and I were almost siblings. We lived with each other for several years, and we were there for each other when we were hurt by romantic advances. I had been single for years, taking pleasure in discovering my inner-self after my fiancee and I had cancelled our engagement in 2010 and Sam provided the right amount of distraction and... well... indifference to the situation. He'd always been there for me and encouraged me to push myself out there and be strong. But something held me back. I didn't know what it really was.
James came along at the time when Sam was in need of my help. I loved James and for what he stood for: he wanted a girlfriend to communicate with him when they needed to the most, and I swooned at his red hair and delicious biceps - both of which he'd purposely understated in his Twitch streams, the place I met him at. One day he'd spend $80 to catch my attention when I was streaming with a donation and the rest was history. One day, he asked me seriously what we were and we both agreed that we wanted to take it to the next level -- and so he came and visited me over the holidays.
Sam had a major surgery scheduled just prior to Christmas and he had asked me to help him out. I had foolishly and excitedly tooled him that James was coming over and he was angry and felt betrayed. I won't bother with the details here, but it wasn't good. He was furious, as he needed my help during this time and was angry that I had dropped everything... him... for another guy.
Our friendship ended that fateful day. He had asked me if this was it, and if our friendship was worth ending because of James. I wished I was smart.
Sam never spoke to me after that day, but then a year after this, James urged me to move with him here and so I acquiesced. Even if I didn't have income he said he'd support me. One year later, I feel like I'm imprisoned.
James was playing a game called Hitman and I tried giving him nitpicky suggestions on how he can save time in the game to help him with his mission when he snapped. He told me that he was annoyed by what I'm saying and told me that I was childish with how I'd spoken to him. He then slammed the door of his car behind him and drove off to wherever for 2 or so hours.
I wish this was just this one night, but it wasn't. It happens every so often, with me always being criticized for being how I am and how I act. There have been times that I've felt that I should run away, but here I am: imprisoned by my feelings and my thoughts, with no other solace than you, dear reader.
In these moments, I think about Sam and how much I miss him. I wrote to Sam last year, attempting to apologize to him about what happened. But he had made it clear that he would never forgive my transgressions. As I sit here and type this, I'm well aware that my excitement and greed overtook me. I'll even admit one more thing, dear reader.
I think I loved Sam, all along.
But I was too scared to tell him about it all this time. This time, it was too late...
I messed up.
Feelings of regret fill my head as memories of wonderful times flood my brain. Of me and Sam. Of what could have been. I still remember his laughter, his wit, his joie de vivre, even though he didn't earn or was as popular as he always says he is. The times when he'd even help me - poorly - put make up on as we partied the nights away.
I'm so, so sorry Sam.
I love you so much.
I miss your touch, your smile, your everything.
I'm so sorry.