Big boys don't cry...

Once upon a time a boy told me not to cry.

He told me not to let them see my fear, and my worries, and my doubts, and to force a smile through it all, and grin and bear it, and to make them all think I knew what I was doing, that none of the things they said or did bothered me, that I would be ok.

And he told me that one day, when he was finally able to, he would hold me, and I could let it all go, and I could cry, and shake, and tell him all the things that scare me, and all the ways I never feel good enough, and he'd swear never to let me go, and that he'd keep it all a secret for me, and never tell anyone I'm just another scared little kid with a broken heart.

One day I will hold that boy to his promise...

Sick

I am sick of looking forward to getting home, only to remember why I hate being here once I get in.
I am sick of spending every night coughing and hacking my lungs up because I live in a house of smokers.
I am sick of the fact that even with my fucked up sense of smell, I hate the smell of smoke that pervades everything here.
I am sick of having to play nice for the sake of a simple life.
I am sick of the fact that I am only here by the grace of my friend, and that I can't afford to pay my own way.
I am sick of needing to rely on my friend for a simple roof of my head and food in my stomach.
I am sick of it constantly being freezing cold because the sash windows seemingly must be fully open all the time, leaving several good 3'x3' holes in the house.
I am sick of coming home to find the kitchen flooded, or my clothes soaked because it rained and someone couldn't be bothered to close the windows before they went out.
I am sick of never knowing what food there will be to cook with.
I am sick of whatever I buy disappearing before I have a chance to use it.
I am sick of having to factor in 30 minutes cleaning the kitchen before I can start making dinner, every single time
I am sick of having to devise my meals around what food remains, what space there is in the kitchen, and what happens to be clean.
I am sick of every time I do bother to tidy, it's back to the state it was within 24 hours at most.
I am sick of the cost of spending all day in coffee-shops, simply because it means I don't have to be in my house
I am sick of never knowing where I'm sleeping.
I am sick of never knowing who else is going to be staying here, of never even being asked so much if I mind
I am sick of operating a hostel for all and sundry when we already have 4 people in a 2 bedroom place.
I am sick of why one person almost always gets the bed, seemingly down to the sole fact that he moved his boyfriend in without asking and it became 'his' room.
I am sick of not having a proper space to call my own.
I am sick of the fact that the small corner I eked out for myself, by clearing other stuff , that no-one was using, I was asked to move before it had even been there a week.
I am sick of every time I leave it, coming back to find my keyboard, monitor, and speakers covered in cigarette ash.
I am sick of trying to fix any of this, or improve it, or tidy, or throw stuff out, or sort through it.
I am sick of taking regular 12 mile walks or making sure I come home so exhausted that I go straight to bed, just so that I don't end up physically hurting someone.
I am sick of keeping it all in and pretending this doesn't bother me.
I am sick of wasting my breath when nothing ever changes.

That's what makes you beautiful...

That whilst I'm talking to you, you're silently mouthing "I love you" at me for an hour.
Acting silly to make me smile.
Remembering dumb stuff like me checking up on you whilst you're ill and I'm half asleep and it meaning a lot to you.

14376 :)

About a boy...

When you find a boy who...

• In his mid 20s, will still play 'yellow car' with you out in public
• Can sit in the room playing completely separate video games for hours on end and still consider it spending time together
• Will curl up on a sofa for a nap in the middle of the afternoon with you, even its its a little cramped, and a little warm being so close, just so you can hold each other.
• Loves to cook for you, and loves having you cook for him
• Uses grindr to send you little things that tell you he loves you.

...
Never let them go :)

A letter to the one who slipped away

So without going into huge amounts of detail, most of the people who read this blog seem to have an idea of what's going on, so I don't think it'll fuck things up too much to post this now.  Of course I could be wrong....


So for the last 6 months or so, a lot of my close friends have conspired against me, to bring a boy that I'm in love with to see me as a surprise visit.  They put themselves out, excused themselves from situations, created distractions to fool me, kept their mouths shut through being drunk and high, and did all sorts of crazy things to do this for me.  And I was a bastard and I found out 6 weeks ago.  Even to the point I knew exactly what flight he was on and had the airport live departures board open on my phone the night he flew here so I could text him "I love you" just as he was boarding.  And like the devil I am I said nothing and let you all conspire and think you were fooling me and play your little games.  You were all so mad I knew.  I made a very good, very polite, friend yell out "LITTLE SHIT".

Thank you.  I love you all for it.  Perhaps not as much as I love him.  But from what lots of you have told me, it was worth all your scheming just to see the smile on my face when I'm with him.  It's one of the sweetest things any guy, or group of friends has ever done for me, it's something I never would expected, and I never would have guessed it had I not found out from my own devious machinations.  I'm genuinely a little bit sorry I knew, because yet, it would have been an amazing surprise.  But even knowing, it was an incredible thing for you all to do for me, for so many of you to work together, for so long, in so many ways, just so I could hold a boy in my arms, and get to tell him I love him one more time; so I didn't have to wait quite so long again.

That's twice this year I have been forced to stop, been stunned and shocked by the generosity, understanding, and love of my friends, so much that a simple "you're awesome" to your faces wont cover it.  I hope one day I can do the same for all of you in some way.

Fear is the mind killer

So the other day I had a panic attack.

They don't happen that often thankfully; I know what tends to induce them and generally avoid those situations, but sometimes they can't be helped.  Sometimes they're induced without warning during a depressive episode and I can't do anything about them.  But I get them in other ways too; often they're related to social situations.

It's a point where the impressive amount of confidence I generally manage to exude completely falters, because it's not confidence in the slightest: it's all bravado, a lot of it, that actively overcompensates.  And okay it does it well cause most of you assume I can get what I want easy and that I know what I'm doing.  But as I say, it's all a lie.

One thing that really sets it off, and was the thing to set it off the other day, is being on my own in social situations.  As an only child I need alone time, but it also means I'm less good in social situations.  I don't necessarily need to BE with a friend all the time, but I need to know where they are, and have at least some vague sense of how long I'm going to have to fend for myself.  I don't do well by myself, I tend to stand in the corner awkwardly.  Even if I've been introduced to a group of people, I'm not good with people I don't feel I know well and am comfortable with.  I'm never sure if they actually like me, or are just being nice and saying hi because my friend is there.  I need someone else to initiate the conversation.  I need to be introduced to people first.  I'm not good at jumping in and putting myself out there.  It's something I'm aware of, and I'm trying to work on, but for reasons I'll go into in the next paragraph, I have to take it in almost imperceptibly small steps.

If I end up on my own for any length of time, for whatever reason - maybe the friend I was with bumped into someone they know on the way back from the toilet and got talking to them - and being 'on my own' might be hanging out with a group of people I just met that night, but am too socially awkward to actually interact with of my own volition, that's when the panic attack sets in.  At first I just get a little paranoid and agitated, with my conscious thought constantly wondering where my friend(s) is/are.  This steadily builds up and after 5-10 minutes I'm constantly looking around hoping I spot them coming round the corner.  My breathing starts to pick up and my heart rate increases to match.  Around the 15 minute mark I get into real problems - by this point I am very paranoid, very anxious and trying to stop myself from hyperventilating and throwing myself into a full blown asthma attack as a result.  My muscles shake but as I try and keep myself vaguely composed so as not to draw attention to myself and end up being 'the guy who had the freak out' I end up unable to move, and unable to speak except very quietly, because anything more than that and I'll lose control and the panic attack will completely take me over.  And when the whole deal is I'm feeling uncomfortable in social situations, having a panic attack in the middle of one is rather obviously the worst thing I can do to make me feel any better about anything.  Of course this then means that I can't even then go wander around to FIND my friend(s), or realistically ask someone else to go find them and impress upon them the importance of finding them and quickly without going into detail about the situation, and explaining such would make me lose control and I'd end up freaking out publicly.  Catch-22

Eventually, when the friend does inevitably turn up, and I manage to calm myself down, or tell them what's happened and get them to calm me down, my entire body then hurts, as the effect of the strain on my muscles from where they were involuntarily shaking in panic that I was forcibly keeping as still as possible so as not to draw attention to myself suddenly hits as the feeling anxiety stops taking up all of my conscious thought process and allows me to become actively aware of the world around me.

The person who had to deal with my panic attack earlier this week had no idea about this aspect of me, nor should he have, I've probably told the above to all of 3 people in my life before, and maybe another 3 have worked it out through their ability to read people's emotions and mental processes without being told them.  Again, the bravado-as-confidence that I normally display in abundance is designed to hide all this.  So the fact that most people, even most of my closest friends, probably didn't know quite how bad I could get until they read this post is really just testament to how convincing I am with the impression of myself I intend to project, and for you to see, versus what's actually going on inside me.


And on highly related note, this is why I am nowhere near as good at getting boys/sex/etc as so many of you actually think I am.  It involves putting myself in a situation, with someone I don't really know, or don't know how they're going to react to the prospect of a date or fuck, and even with a friend beside you, that's something you're effectively doing on your own.  I find it almost impossible to pick up guys when I'm out - It's a crippling and paralyzing level of fear for me to go up to a boy and try and talk to him.  I've been granted some modicum of grace by the internet, where you can idly message someone on grindr with a 'hey' or cruise someone on an online profile or whatever - I still get that painful stab of rejection when they largely don't reply, but it's at least something.  I am not good at all at making the first move.  Once a dialogue has been established, I'm fine, but that initial contact, that putting yourself out there, that making the first move; it's almost impossible for me.  This is why I love the US.  American boys and girls are so much happier and willing to make the first move, and culturally, it's not met with as much suspicion and hostility as a stranger coming up to you and saying hi is in the UK.  Americans are a lot shier when it comes to full on flirtation or sexual issues, but that's the bit I am good at, and I am confident at, so it balances out well.  And of course once they start talking to me, they hear I'm British and it all goes Love Actually and group sex instantly happens.

You're just too good to be true; can't take my eyes off you...

Many months ago, I was in a rather bad down period, and I shut myself off from everyone for a few weeks. Because I needed to, because dealing with myself was enough of a struggle, let alone trying to read social situations, act appropriately in them, respond when spoken to, even amongst people I didn't have to pretend I was okay with.

I was still going to work, because the advantage of my work meant if necessary I could close myself off from everyone and just delegate everything that involved actually dealing with people, so I didn't need to take time off from that.  And very very slowly I started to get better.

And one night, a friend invited me out after work.  It was just gonna be a few people, that I knew well, and they knew me and my crazy pretty well.  I wouldn't really have to socialize in any real way.  And I warned them I'd probably just stand in the corner and watch the proceedings.  But it was a start.  It would get me back out in the world and dealing with other people.  Baby steps and all that

So after work I hauled my ass across London and walked into the bar, my friend who had invited me saw me and came and gave me a hug and had the sense not to ask in depth about how I was or force me to talk to people or anything.

And then two other people joined our group that I didn't know.  Two of the most perfectly beautiful boys I have ever met in my entire life.  They were both jaw droppingly stunning.

And my head was in such a screwed up state as it was, added to the standard intimidation around cute boys that you fancy multiplied by the fact these were two of the hottest guys I've ever met, that I wasn't even able to say "hi" or introduce myself for the next few hours, despite the fact we were clearly part of the same social group.

I've since got to know them both; I know their names and they know mine.  And they are still two of the most beautiful people I have ever met, and I still have to secretly keep my jaw from falling to the floor every time one of them walks in the room, and I still wrack my brain every time I see them just to think of something interesting to say to give me an excuse to talk to them.