when i was lost.

I really don't know where i am anymore. am i happy? i'm happy when i'm with anna and anna and we're talking and talking and talking about things that matter, like sylvia plath and religion and literature and love... i'm happy when i see the tiny pieces of silver; the perfect particles of being; the moments when i can sit back and say la vie est belle.

la vie est belle quand Anna est son père maintenu vivait.
la vie est belle quand on a la foi dans l'humanité.
la vie est belle quand les amis se gardent ensemble.

but otherwise, am i happy? am i happy with the grey in between shining hours?

i don't think so. i think it ends here. i don't think i'm in love anymore. with him, with school, with man. people are so horrible, people are so cruel, people are so selfish. it's just hard to convince myself that it's not that way.

things are just falling out. falling out, like shaking a puzzle until pieces go flying. books make me sleep, music makes me cry (of desperation and failure, not of beauty), and knowledge bores me. where have my passions gone? the only passion i retain is misguided lust.

a note on misguided lust:
i grew up without touch. i've been denied that right the second i realized i was gay. i could no longer trust my body with male friends, and female friends were denied by my basic sexuality. as a result, i've built a thick bubble of personal space, beyond air. i can't get myself to feel being touched. i don't feel warm when i hug my friends. i don't feel warm when i hug my family. i don't feel warm at all. i need it to change. i want to feel loved, even though i don't. i want to feel needed, cared for, and wanted. i don't know how much there i really am for most people, and it makes me feel transparent.

i'm at constant conflict with myself. i'm afraid of myself. i want myself to go away. often i stop myself and wonder if i seemed too gay. because i'm scared that i do. often i stop and wonder if i'm secretly in love with certain boys. because i'm scared that i do. i'm weak. i will never get what i think i want or need, and subconsciously wanting it won't make the situation different. i'm weak. i'm weak. i'm weak.

he will never love me.
they will never love me.

i'm sorry for everything i do wrong. i'm sorry for my hypocrisy, my cowardice, my inaction.

i'm not happy. la vie est triste, ma vie est triste, mais peut-etre je n'ai pas le droit de dire cela.