Lucky

It seems such a long time since I've been able to sit down to come up with a few sentences. If I am asked to find one word to describe my feeling lately, it should be lucky. I'm feeling lucky. I tried to retrace my steps to see how the choices I've made, consciously or unconsciously, led me along a not so usual route causing quite some angst and awkward situation but finally arriving in a territory of which I can say I am passionate for with total confident. I had not been able to be sure about anything. It is the first time that I feel less doubt. And what is more? I am feeling lucky to come into contact with such wonderful people. As I said to my friend that I've been completely amazed by her intellect and achievement, and pleasantly surprised to get the extra attention. I am so happy about the relationship I've been building. I described to my friend my feeling for her was "if she points to the hell, I'll go directly down there." It is the holiday time but a busy time. I don't remember the last time I was happy like this. A good summer ahead...

I am so pissed right now. I find myself actually shaking because of the conversation I just had with someone I used to consider intellectually capable to understand gays. He made his homophobic point clear by throwing around words like abnormal, freaks, against the "great laws" of the nature... the statements which cannot be older. It hurts. I snapped and I think I started to yelling at him but I don't remember. How naive have I been! I knew the general attitude is hostility but it is one thing to be aware that hate is popular and another to hear it from the people close to you, living and breathing around you, people you consider open-minded and nice, people you spend time to get to know, people who have entered your life... It got confusing to hear the praise from them saying how brilliant you are and at the same time telling you there is a group of people that disgust them, to which you belong. I feel like a failure. I never tried to rub my homosexuality in the others' faces and I thought I'd made my point that I could live alongside with the people who are different from me, making friends with them, without marking the divisions. Even though I've been secretly feeling privileged and lucky to be gay, which also brings me trouble I'm willing to deal, I've never rubbed it in anybody's face. I tried to blend my gayness simply as a part of my identity like all the others, gender, age, language, hair, eye and skin color, ethnic, nationality, etc, but I guess it doesn't work easily and it is my fault. I am not saying I am turning radical but next time when such topic comes up, I won't hesitate to let them know that I am one of those they are calling freaks. I am feeling frustrated right now but what I want is to live more and love more, live and love in the way they despise. It is not only OK to be gay. For me, it is great.IFinallyUnderstandWhereMyShynessComesFromAndIKnowItCanActuallyBeCuredByItsVeryCause.IHateHiding AndIWontHideAnymore.

the letters

I'm writing all the time. It seems no difficulty for me to use words. Actually too many of them is one of my issues I have to work on, but peculiarly when I am strongly conscious of the addressees, the words sometimes won't come out so easily. In other words, I don't usually have the problem saying what I want to say but I do when I know I am saying what I want to say to the one I want to say to. I guess it all started the time when I first felt the desperate desire to say something in front of the one with whom I wanted to share only to find I was incapable to.
The hardest and probably the best I've written was a letter, a goodbye letter. I composed the whole thing in my head for two or three months, choosing, comparing and arranging every single word into a very short paragraph. I did not want to hide but I did not want to sound crazy. I wanted to say things in an appropriate way and yet I had to draw the shape of my feeling in it. It turned out wonderful. But I'd never forget how exhausting that few words were. And now I feel the same feeling again. I don't understand it. When I address to someone I respect and adore, it is as if I were writing to goddesses, some sacred high-above-sky being who only come down to earth occasionally, even it is only supposed to be a formal letter, nothing personal involved.
I have to keep telling myself stop freaking myself out by over-thinking, and that it is merely for my own good to get the necessary information, but I can't. I keep thinking once I press send someone so fantastic at the end of the other side will read every letter I am putting down. Is this the way I love people? By avoiding them?

Flashback

I should probably start getting ready for the job, I say to myself, but my mind is still looping around the dream I had last night. Arachnids, spiders more precisely, I think. They were black. Then I started kissing someone when suddenly a piece of sharp bone grew out from the tip of the tongue and hurt me. I do not normally bother trying explain my dreams to myself because no matter how bizarre they are, the feeling in them is always obvious and revealing to myself, merely intensified and stripped of camouflage. 

    Lately, I see my compulsory character more clearly. I have to repeat playing the same piece of melody again and again (which is still playing), and yet, every time the violin stings my head. Like a broken gramophone. There seems to be nothing involving or progressing but the same flow of water bursting out repeatedly with the rising and falling of the melody, but then something hit me, a rip in the white shirt. I became alert because again, remembering wanted to catch me and it succeeded. She would show up, elegant and stunning, especially in the black dress for the summer or the brown leather jacket for the winter, but sometimes she would come in in a casual T shirt with a cartoon figure on it. Sometimes her hair seemed not combed at all. And she turn back, there was a rip on the left (or the right?) shoulder of her shirt, a position near the back where she could hardly notice by herself. I wanted to say to the one next to me that it was so sweet and cute, but instead, I bit my lower-lip to repress the smile. Now when I think about that small rip on her shoulder, I laugh, wondering if she would keep that shirt and brought it to the lake.