the great goddamn withdrawal
i spent an awful weekend pretending to be comfortable. pretending to enjoy myself as i drank deeply from my pinot and the memories that comprise me. the memories that consume me. and on the many deep levels this weekend was wrong, my extreme allergic reaction to chris and hector's cats was the most obvious. the others were easily recognizable to any keen to attention paying. and the second most adverse reaction was much more grand in that it was to the heteronormative concept i was expected to be as the second half of a couple spending time with another heteronormative couple. and the primary thought racing through my head from start to finish was this: that i do not want to be in a relationship. that i do not want to be in this relationship. that i dont want to act like those people. that how i should act with this person and the connection that we should have not be based on a used, passed idea of a relationship that has never worked in the first place.
and thats only the half of it. death seemed to be heavy in the air since friday, where upon i learned that it was the twenty-third anniversary of my sister's passing away. a sister i hardly remember and feel mostly guilty because of that. but then what actual memories carry over from a ten year old boy?
i only know that my boyfriend has suddenly and evocatively erected a box around my behaviors and im suffocating. im trapped under layers and layers of social expectations from him and from my friends and mostly from a society that daily tells me that my love, because it is gay, is unequal. and here i am stuffed in this box of expectations that is straining my posture and strength. that is cramping my muscles and forcing me to feel guilty for the nonconformity. as if conformity was all that i was to be striving for. as if i, of all people, was some simple replication of a social ideal constantly regurgitated on prime time tv.
and this is the great withdrawal that noone seems to pick up on. from my friends to my boyfriend, it appears im a greater actor than i had known. and just another reason i find myself spending every weeknight swimming laps in a pool. the phone doesnt work there and theres noone else encroaching on who it is i am to be or how it is i am to swim. its just me, counting my laps and controlling my breath. a place where only i exist in this universe.
and thats only the half of it. death seemed to be heavy in the air since friday, where upon i learned that it was the twenty-third anniversary of my sister's passing away. a sister i hardly remember and feel mostly guilty because of that. but then what actual memories carry over from a ten year old boy?
i only know that my boyfriend has suddenly and evocatively erected a box around my behaviors and im suffocating. im trapped under layers and layers of social expectations from him and from my friends and mostly from a society that daily tells me that my love, because it is gay, is unequal. and here i am stuffed in this box of expectations that is straining my posture and strength. that is cramping my muscles and forcing me to feel guilty for the nonconformity. as if conformity was all that i was to be striving for. as if i, of all people, was some simple replication of a social ideal constantly regurgitated on prime time tv.
and this is the great withdrawal that noone seems to pick up on. from my friends to my boyfriend, it appears im a greater actor than i had known. and just another reason i find myself spending every weeknight swimming laps in a pool. the phone doesnt work there and theres noone else encroaching on who it is i am to be or how it is i am to swim. its just me, counting my laps and controlling my breath. a place where only i exist in this universe.