Last night, I was having trouble getting to sleep(Quiet, DEMONS!)and couldn’t relax until I wrote about it. It was insane how I felt before I wrote vs. how I felt after. It’s my go-to and always has been. Crazy stuff happens and my first instinct is to write it down. I’m not calling friends or heading to the club or drinking-I’m looking for a pen. It used to get me in trouble, which may be the reason I still censor myself so harshly. Believe me, if you followed me on Twitter you’d get it.
Anyway, there was something old and wonderful about that feeling…knowing what you’re meant to do. People want me to sell a personal narrative, in all it’s horrible glory. If I’m going to be entirely honest about everything that led me to this point in my life I’m going to be PAID to walk back to that trailer park. You hear me bitch? I said money. There’s also the fact that I don’t want to go down that path. My people are a bunch of bog-monster hill-people…but they are mine and they deserve better from me. That being said, I’m broke and hungry. It’s easy to say what you “won’t do” when your bills are paid. I also love not starving to death.
I’m working on my first novel. There have been countless false starts and half-finished manuscripts, but that is over. I’ve been with this story for a while and it may not be perfect but it is marketable. I don’t know when it will be finished.
My dream, when I was a child and losing every person I loved, was to get out and tell the truth. I wanted boys and girls like me to know that you can get out, that freedom is possible no matter what your jailers say. Then, I got out and got older. I saw people with stories like mine hitting it big, and it seemed wrong to me at least as a career. I love my family… bog-monsters that they are.
There is also the fact that my Parents loved me. My Father was a bad person about me being gay, AND he also loved me in a way that most little gay boys fathers don’t. I had a Brother who loved me. If not for them I’d have put up with a lot more bullshit in my romantic life, as a big ol’ queer. Toxic masculinity does nothing for me and I have never fetishisized straight men.
- If he is straight you really need to back off, that shit is gross.
- Fem guys are the ones that will wear you out. Look into it! It’s not a joke, it’s a fact.
- If he is a staight-acting homo, there’s a good chance that, sexually, he’s a big girl. (Which is 1000% G-R-E-A-T but it isn’t just about him being masculine, right? He has to be a big scary son a bitch who will wreck you like a demolition derby. Grow. Up.)
- As a rule, I don’t like gay people sleeping with people who identify as straight because I feel that they’ve given up searching for what they actually want- Love.
- You are worth it. You’re worth everything. Don’t settle unless it’s a lawsuit you beautiful bitch.
What was I talking about? I fell off my soapbox…RIGHT! Please please please buy my shit… please.
Even as I write this I know that people will only really like the horrific stuff.
I don’t want to write about the circumstances I came through, I’d much rather create something that will help you escape.
A bitch is running out of time and options.