Am I out in this place Alone?

First of all, I must state that I am a “late bloomer” for many things in life. I started doing the things that normally others would do at a certain age, much more late. With that being said, I shall start with this: Masturbation is the best birth control. It truly is.

But the issue goes a lot deeper than so. So lets go back to when I was a wee-lad.

From a very young age I was very sexual. I was always getting caught doing things that were sexual in nature. From what I can remember I was always curious about sexuality and it seemed fine to me. Sexuality seemed good and natural until I was told it was incorrect. My parents and a great amount of people that were present around my developing (let us say 5 years old), started to make me feel unnatural. I suppose that this behavior that I used to manifest was perhaps too much to handle for my family so they brought it upon themselves to suppress this in me. I remember being caught all the time looking at women in magazines or in the Television and touching myself. Because well, fuck, it feels good. Then I started to try to imitate the behavior with women around me. I suppose this is where things became out of hand. I guess I started doing “things” with the kids around the block and in school. I clearly remember the time when I was in kindergarten and I had a group of kids around me because I was playing with myself. I was really turned on by the fact that it was “ok” and acceptable in this area. I did not feel “weird” or unnatural. But that all changed as I started getting older and I started seeing more and more. I grew more obsessed with sexuality and then I had a sexual experience with someone of the same sex who I think tried to take advantage of me. As I recall I feel embarrassed and completely “grossed out”. This is what ultimately made me feel “dirty” and cold and unwanted.

Of course I started to suffer from all these things.

To feel shy around girls because seeing women and being sexually aroused was “bad” and “wrong”.

To feel like sexuality was something immoral and unnatural.

To feel nothing was what was expected of me.

Happiness was defined for me and I was to obey.

I was to follow these laws that were “human”.

It fucked me over. It completely made me feel horrible. I couldnt tell girls I liked them because, well it was wrong. I couldnt feel these things because it was wrong. It was wrong to feel. It was wrong. I was wrong and I needed to be set “right”.

I never ever touched a girl. I was told to respect girls. 

Nonetheless I still managed to “feel” when girls would like me. But as my upbringing would dictate I was to suppress and kill these feelings. So, every time I would have girls interested in me I would tell them to fuck off even though I did like them. I would feel powerful and “bad” in a good sense that I could have girls want me and I would dispose of them like nothing. And I felt nothing. I felt no remorse in doing so until I started to feel this feeling of loneliness. I realized at that time about death. I realized that we are merely mortals and we grow old and die. 

Suddenly, life changed for me.

If it had not been enough, to add to my personality, I was brought into a country were I knew nothing and nobody. It was even worse.

I became much more lonesome. I became a much more “cold” person. I continued to suppress myself. I continued to experience my sexuality under very closed doors and still I was caught and reprimanded. The shame. The feelings of being “unnatural” and “wrong”. There were so many girls I liked but I was to not “feel” anything.

As time progressed and I grew older I naturally strayed away from even thinking about “suppressing” myself; it now became natural and normal. I still rejected girls. I still felt “weird”. I still felt “dirty”. And I still experienced my sexuality but in secret, by myself. 

I had many issues, problems, that were manifested physically because of this “holding back”. I simply suppressed and felt nothing. I felt nothing. I remember those days and it feels as if I did not live, really. I did not exist. I was not me. This continued until almost the end of High School. What were the awkward years for many, to me it was simply living, or being; a “thing”. Like a drone or a zombie. Thoughtless. Numb. Complete nothingness.

Because I didnt “feel” or experience, dare to experience life as it is normal to many kids of my age, I concentrated in school because that was all there was for me. I excelled in school. I am smart. Educated. Intelligent. But I cannot say that it makes me feel “human”. It makes me feel as if I were simply re-learning something I already knew before. I simply do it and feel nothing. Perhaps it is why the “set” subjects such as Math, Sciences, and History were so easy to me. These subjects were all done and complete, there was simply nothing more than learning what has already been discovered and “storing” as information, or truth. I however, felt a curiosity towards the subjects of creativity.

I remember I always was told I was very creative. I have alway been considered imaginative and creative, but that was part of the me and my sexuality. My imagination was part of the “bad”. So I never expressed it. To “feel” to express emotion, to be happy, to be sad; to be human was weakness and bad in my world.

I did not want to feel empty and completely out there, alone, so I lived how I was told to. For so many years. So many years.

I started to get worse. I reached a stage where I found myself doing things that were completely immoral and inhumane. Borderline, jail-time. I was really close to becoming a true monster. The type that does evil. But I started to “feel” wrong about this. I knew this was wrong, truly wrong and repulsive. So I stopped and never did anything.

I hit the other side of spectrum. 

School was tough. Elementary, Middle, High School. They were complete fucking mistakes that I wish I could remember being “me”. I wish I would have been me, not afraid of being. Not afraid of girls. Not afraid of feeling.

Years of enslavement created a coldness like no other. Years created no remorse. Years of this created a monster that I still managed to suppress too. 

There is just so much to me that I am barely beginning to discover.

I started to “let go” of that which constantly held me back from feeling. I found philosophy and people with true contact with soul and God. For a long time this was my savior. This is what made me “feel”. The endless thoughts thawed the ice that forever kept me cold from the world. For the first time I felt “One” with the world. For the first time I felt human. I did not feel alone at all. I felt like it was ok to feel and express myself. It did not begin well at all. Years of silence, years of keeping “me” locked away was profoundly sad. The me that tried to be was a very strange animal who could barely be. It was so painful to be. To speak. To move. It was painful but good to be. I started to write what I felt. I started to do these things many had done at a younger age; to be a kid. I had fun. I had friends, friends that up to this day I still keep in contact with. Friends that somehow understood what the fuck I was trying to communicate with them. The ideas flowed, not easily by speech or emotion but through a process of somewhat empathy and feeling; perhaps the soul. Between the stutters and awkward movements of raw emotion and feeling I somehow managed to make some sense. 

I was a sight to see perhaps.

I am a sight to see when I really get excited about something.

Its an avalanche of everything that was locked up for years.

I started to express myself a bit easier. Still, writing was and is the best way for me to communicate because I have the time and patience to sort these thoughts out. I wish I could speak the same way I think when I write but it is impossible, the thoughts are a thousand times faster than my tongue and too random for me to know how they are somehow connected. I have found that a few amount of people can connect what I try to express to them and I thank them because it makes it easy on me.

I found “feeling” in people.

People are what makes this existence; their ideas, feelings, fears, happiness. Our everything is what composes our existence. 

Because I remained silent for years, because I lived like so; all I could do was simply observe. From observing, from feeling out of the equation, “out of the scene” I was able to develop this gift of understanding people. I could feel what they felt, in a way. I was always a cold person, but the people around me; their existence; their pain, their joys and everything kept me alive in a sense. I became very good at observing and using my imagination and knowledge to understand people. I knew what hurt; I began to understand what made us “feel”. The very core of “feeling” I could touch that if I wanted to.

I was mean. But I was also good. I felt powerful in knowing what made others feel. And it was wrong in toying with this. Later I asked for forgiveness for all of those I had hurt in the past. I asked for forgiveness for invading the vulnerability of people.

I grew. 

And then came the first time I felt close to another human being. It was amazing. Little can I say anymore. Little can I say. But I also learned from this also. So I continued.

In short, I find myself today feeling hopelessly alone in the world because it seems as though everyone wants to not feel. Nobody wants to feel vulnerable. I find myself around people who are mindless. I find myself in a world where nobody can understand me, or even care.

The world is a cold place and we make it colder.

In efforts for me to “feel”. In efforts to express myself. The “me” that I for so long kept suppressed. I find myself alone and misunderstood for most of the time. There are only a handful of people that “get a side of me”.

Perhaps I am too cold. 

I know that what I was is not dead, it never died; it still is.

I am so many that it becomes a problem to function. 

I am hungry for life but there is not much to feed me. There is still the feeling of uncomfortable when I do try to be. It hurts and it burns but I keep through it.

I dont know what I mean. It has been so long since I have written, “me”. It has been ages. I think I should start to figure out where I am.

I want to experience “me”. The suppressed “me”. My sexuality cannot be over-looked upon anymore. I have been out there experiencing more but it is not easy. To “let go” of this me is hard too. This one is much more visceral and dangerous. This one is a tough one. It boils the blood and burns. It consumes. But I need to let this “fire” out or it will burn me inside. It just needs “out”.

What the fuck am I saying. I just need to express myself.
Ive got to be.

Morning, Me

I get like this sometimes. Where I battle between keeping a promise. The one promise that I really felt inclined to agree, the one promise that I believed in too. To not use a girl as just any other girl. She left me that and much more. I want to say that I do not know what love is, in order to justify a lot of things, but I feel as if it were. I feel as if what we had was a form of love, so simple. I sometimes wonder what it would have been if we had made love, if I had let myself completely go one of those nights. I wonder if things would have completely been different. If she would have still left me? I dont think so. I want to think she would not have. But then again, love makes you forget about these things. It makes you not think. It makes you not be smart about things. You see, people are actually easy to read, well at least most of them, or a side of them. And here is where it begins:

Meeting someone new is a complete adventure for me. It is a trial and error type of deal. I like to sort of "tip-toe around the egg shells" of their persona. It is a hit and miss kind of thing. You cant say the wrong things unless you intend to. You cant say the right things unless you need to. With that being said, love completely makes you dumb, it takes away the cold planning that is so carefully set. Well, at least in me it does. Lets take Breanna for example, my latest discovery. I met her at work. First time I met her was this day I had to give her a ride and she hopped in. She was good looking and I had seen her before this one time that we got the chance to talk. She is white, green eyes, light brown hair, and about as tall as I am (if not even a little more). I was really attracted to her physique from the moment I saw her around. I wanted to talk to her but there was never the chance, until that day. I went on to say a simple hello, followed with a series of questions about the day, (small-boring talk that usually is followed by witty remarks and smart questions). She was not that bright at all, she was very close minded from what I could tell, a complete "farm girl" if you will, a very good looking one if any. I then went on to show my dominance in an intellectual way, it was not very hard with her, she sat there, baffled, at the spill I was laying on her about life and this and that. Before she knew it, she was back to where she had to be and I told her, "Well, we are here and off you go!", with a smart smirk. She seemed nervous and to a point surprised and as she got off I repeated her name just I could not forget it and I gave her mine so she could do the same. And the days went on and we did not really talk, I let the girls she works with talk about me. The girls she works with, I too have made acquaintances with, and I have become sort of the "interesting guy". I had time with her, to really get to know her, just around a week or two ago. She was at perfect level, I was standing up and she, sat down on a chair, a perfect stance to make her feel smaller and I bigger than her. I did an act of kindness, and that is what put her at my disposition, from that point on she owed me. I found out she was my same age, and that in fact she was from a small town, she had played Volleyball all of her life (it did not surprise me because she had the physique). She asked a little about me and proceeded to talk more about her than any other time. It was as if she felt like she needed to confess to me, which is something people do a lot and I am content with that. She disclosed obvious information that she wanted to "have fun". I asked her if she was doing anything for today, when she got out, and at what time. She replied with a maybe, a coquettish maybe while maintaining eye contact. I didnt want to completely ask her to wait for me or something. She told me she had her own place, basically gave me her address. She wanted to know if I went out a lot, to bars and whatnot. This is where things got complicated a little. I didnt know what she wanted to hear, I may have over-thought about it. I basically said a "sometimes", that being in school so much and doing this and that was preoccupying, but when I did have the chance I did enjoy having fun. She felt comfortable with me already, something most people tend to do when I give them the space. Bree went on to give me insight as to what she thought, which to be honest, but not really rude about it, is really just not that important. She went on for minutes talking about a subject that she could tell was really not important for me, until it seemed I use an excuse to get away from her to which she then apologized for even speaking. She felt dumb and out of place, I wanted to make her feel better and safe but I really did have to go and did not have a chance. I could tell she liked me, I could tell she wanted "something". But I began to become really busy with other things and I never got the chance again to talk to her.
I thought about it that night, how much I had changed, not only mentally but physically.
I indeed had changed. I had matured physically and it gave me an interesting look, something that attracted certain type of women.

I am still waiting to find the chance and move on to the next step with Bree, to walk carefully around her persona. At this age and at this time in my life I feel as if loving that woman gave me a more of a conscience, something that I needed. I still find myself having feelings towards her, despite the things I have come to discover. I do not know if it is mere sexual attraction and it will go away if we ever made love, I dont feel like it is. I feel that if we did made love I would completely fall for her, hard, like get married kind of love. Time and circumstances have a way of prolonging your life the things that are not meant for the right occasion. I am thankful that I have met her, and perhaps I have been too cold with her and it is because I constantly battle this attraction I have to her.

Sometimes I am too kind. Sometimes, as you can see I am too cold and planning, perhaps even a little "evil". What can I say? I am just a human being, another specimen existing in the jungle trying to survive. I am young and I do not know any better, at times, only when it fits me.

Where?

Where am I?
Where did I go?
Where will I go?

Sometimes I have the recurring feeling that I will never have anything. I have the recurring feeling that I will be nothing. I have the feeling that I am somehow the most heartless person in the world. I am afraid that I am the worst of them all.

It is easy to kill when one has no remorse. It is easy to kill when your memory fails you. It is easy to kill when the world is silent.

But where will I go?
Where will I end?