Boy In The Cycle

There lived something peculiar in my adolescent mind, something suspicious in my boyhood, that I wasn't quite prepared to admit to myself at the tender age of 12, let alone to someone else if there had been anyone, though like everything we disavow, we still breathe an evanescent life into it every now and then...Being gay, we are all more conscious of ourselves and that we're somehow different then what's expected. And at the age of 16, which to my dismay is quickly coming to an end, after many changes and dramatic growth spurts, I admit something I would assume so many gay men do at some point in their life. I shine the light on every dark crevice hiding in the shadows of my consciousness. And I will not subsidize the manifestation of what every boy, gay or straight, needs, to subsidize the psychology of what may or may not be the fine line between perversion and the common relationship between men and boys that has always been.

We all need men in our lives. Why do the gay youth of today REALLY feel aloof and take their lives? Maybe they're lacking fathers, maybe they don't know their place. They may search in the wrong place to find darkness, and fall victim to hurt by the hands of the wrong men. To be an isolated gay youth without a family or 'place' intact, is to be a marble bouncing around in an anxious cycle. My attraction to older men struck an anxiety in me that was drawn from the mistrust of that concept. Knowing better, not to search for and act on impulse in the wrong places at the wrong times, I let it live on its own. Now, I see it in me, waiting to be articulated. And that's just what this is for. These words are not waiting to be validated by someone else who experiences the same thing. At least now, I can say it. I can describe the way men were seen from my eyes, and the way it was so repressive to have to keep it in the dark. What was so confusing was that I didn't know whether or not to see other males as 'players on the same team' or the object of my affection. They're both, and that's what confuses the roles of lovers and fathers and friends, all men and boys...I'm attracted to older men who signify 'fathers', and that's one of the most common sexual manifestations of gay culture.

No conclusion is to be drawn from this at the moment, just a very simple discovery, and the chance to finally be a son. Not from the people I was born into, who never had me as their son anyway, but the family I come together with on my own. The family I dreamed of for 16 years. Grateful I don't have to search in all the wrong places, and go another 16 to 20 years hurting, if I had even lived that long. I could have been a dead boy who never even lived, but now I'm a growing spirit, learning everything that lies right under our noses, the truths that exist with or without our acknowledgement.

Our universe, I think, is kind, so I've been taught.
We never stay in the dark...There always comes a light, if we choose to see it. With each and every lesson I learn as a boy, I love it more and more.

7PM Horizon, reflection of boyhood.

I sit in the amber lighting of a room, a light from far away, mailed from across the country, in the desert, it came to me. I sit there in that light, on my bed in an outter burrough of NYC at sixteen years old. There are streetlights outside, a full view of them dimly lit from my seated position on the bed. I don't see what the the lights are attatched to, just glowing ovals of orange. I hear everything, disguised as a muffle of white noise; cars. This is what peace feels like. I visualize the entire country, the entire world, the oceans, the little boys and girls who grow up thinking that their abductors who maybe molested and rented them, are their mothers and fathers. I am exonerated from the anxiety of the perpetual questions, what can I do, what can I do, and where the hell am I from, never mind where I am going. How can I help? These questions have ceased to live and taunt me in this moment. Someone so young should never have a heavy heart, but that is sadly what our youth, the youth that I am a member of, experience, sometimes for the rest of their lives. How can someone with so many years ahead to fall together take their existence so seriously? Maybe seriously enough to lay down and die by their hurt. Listen not to your elder's "wisdom", if you are able to decipher it just as their undying hurt from child to adulthood. They will never truly experience life. Learn on your own. I know now, that I couldn't wrap my brain around the lack of wisdom or appreciation or gratitude of life from grown men and women. Those were my parents, living for their lunch breaks and nice and stupid television shows each night before they grow older and die, as the sixteen year old boy who may have once been their son, but now is his own boy, was never prepared to realize that he would some day be an older boy, growing into a man. When I see photos of your children, or I see a mother laughing and a father stroking his son's hair lovingly, I hurt that this really was reality and not a movie script, that I never got to experience. I feel the love in me I could one day give my child, but now can never recieve from my absent mother and father and siblings. I realize my responsibility, my capability, now, and I can no longer go a day more feeling like I don't want to be the age I am, but younger. Because I am not a little boy, but I am not yet a man. I like the fact that I'm gay because I think it adds character and understanding to my male soul. Aside from teenage hormones, and loving men and boys, I feel both the feminine and masculine spectrum, and I am not afraid to live through both of them. I'm not sure when this peculiar aggression had grown inside of me, but it is there, seemingly living its own life, causing frustration of want in me. The want to feel another boy, as soft and smooth as I now could never be without a very painful hot wax, his soft lips, my fingers gently dancing through his hair, as I hold him tight, and hum him into slumber. Or the want of a man in his thirties, stocky and strong, but gentle and fuzzy in the right places, he and I in a warm tight embrace, wrapped around each other like a pair of contracted rattlesnakes, his fingers dance gently across my neck and down my spine. This time, its not about the thrill of the illegal daddy/boy roleplay I'd thought about since age 5, but its just about the converging of males alike. Just a nightly reflection of my boyhood.