Saturday, 29 November 2014

To Miles 45

Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me, if I were to be punished for said sin and my punishment were to be gay, what was wrong with me in the first place? It was that odd time when in the first time when I was on a ship, before Paul had even kissed me and Jack was awfully agitated with all new faces around and he had passed the cigarette box expecting all the newcomers to start coughing, but instead he just kept talking.
"What was the worse thing that you had ever done?" Was the question asked by the older pilot. I guess Jack seemed to follow my common cliches built in my head regarding pilots, maybe because Matt was unattainable he was more than suffice. He had been well built and I hadn’t even know that I was even into well built men back then, and he seemed to be far too charming and confident until you would ask him something and then perhaps he would stutter at the right moment, cracking, as if teasing of what he was underneath it all.
Someone had said that they had killed their own dog.
Someone had said that they threw their sister down the stairs because she throw someone else’s wooden train prior to that out of the window into the mud.
Someone confessed to cheating on their girl, which resulted whistles from the newcomers as if the queerness of the navy would soon be unleashed and the ladies as faded and forgotten as the white shores.
"Sailor?" Jack asked me, his dark eyes on me and like a stab through the heart, I just shook my head, not knowing what to even tell. He put his hand on me and I was half hard just from looking at him, legs crossed, barely realising how deep my desire for him went. "Sailor?"
"I don’t think… I had a girlfriend and I lied to her about the location to go watch the movies with my pal. I left her there for hours." I shrugged and the attractive pilot just shook his head.
"Left a gal alone? That it, sailor? Pfffft…" And he waved his hand at me, my turn skipped and I wondered why did his eyes keep lingering on me regardless, how come he still kept looking at me and then he had caught me in the night, asking me how come I had never done anything worse than that. And I just shrugged, looking back and knowing that he had slept with Matt, his intense look at me and I was confused if he had moved closer to me next to the basins, but I was too clueless and I never moved and we had only fucked years later, but he still haunted my mind and frankly my masturbation fantasies. 

And all he had graced me with was pushing me onto the basin, for I was much shorter than he was and making out, I was too exhausted from desire to even let anything else commence, but his lips still haunted me and the kiss itself was higher than anything sex seemed to be giving me, it wasn’t even love, it was some intoxicating desire, some flirting on the edge of a lengthy orgasm, he seemed to be far too thrilling, intimidating, confusing and pushing me far too over the edge, as I had solely followed him during some bizarre period of insomnia and he had been kissing me, pushing me harder against him, keeping me close and neither of us pushed further, the kiss mutually started and ended in some nostalgic evidence of something we had regretted not having done. Days just went on and on, I would check out Jack, he would stumble in words, he seemed to have fully been broken but nothing had happened even after his death, he didn’t visit me even if he had laughed, spreading the rumor himself that he would sell his soul to the Devil just to haunt down some old girlfriend from a past life, because if he wouldn’t have the time to find her today, then he would later on, because none of us sailors were going to heaven anyway, so why not like life cheats with suicide, why don’t we cheat ourselves?

Why don’t we give our soul away for a full price rather than a mercy giveaway, and maybe that was his logic and I wondered if all of our mutual faith in the Devil made the ships sail, the boats rock, the nights eerie in the wrong passes and thoughts scattered to resemble demons, the churches haunted and voices to scramble from old sailors and pilots.

And he had died.

His death was more than a mystery, that it wasn’t even discussed and me and Paul had no longer been an item, Daniel long ago chosen and Matt’s stuck in his own world, Lana being my sole companion of someone who I was interested in solely talking and hearing of snippets of her endeavours onshore with whisky or stashed bourbon on the ship. 

I wondered how close Matt and Lana were now, since I seemed to grace their minds and how much had Matt spoken and how come if we were the closest we couldn’t speak of the most sacred things in our hearts? And I would be lying if I would say that I didn’t want his photo tucked safely in wallet, which was now shamelessly Jamie and I wondered what would happen if someone would raid through to find the stitched small pocket to hold said photo, would anyone yank it out and see Jamie’s serious captain photo, which I had bought in a newsstand, happily, knowing that it were with me in my suit pocket if I were to leave the ship without him, any day and now it seemed to be with me on the ship as the present Jamie would be downing his time onshore. 

I wondered how come if we wouldn’t hesitate in sleeping in the same bed, just eager from each other’s shoulders brushing, how come we could never speak out and how blind were we to solely make out on a party and then dismiss everything we ever could, for our sole fear? And how come we had admired our own fear which didn’t even build us to put above the other, the lover, or was it because we wanted to keep the lover from ourselves, because the circle is complete, we don’t want ourselves to be tainting someone else’s life? 

So does our self-hatred become something we drown ourselves in? Is it not the other tainted person’s love but our own self-hate to even allow ourselves to drown? What if some loves are just plain suicide attempts and then, at the very last moment we are yanked, harshly, that the hand starts emitting the ache, depression worn off and we will shout at the sudden pull, because the veil of unreality is peeled off, exposing the raw and red from cold skin, as if we had fallen into icy water, only the lover who we presume to be drowning is the culprit, not the one who saves, but rather a new and older one. 

Maybe it is such that all lovers in our lives are all different, not from the outside, but all different and maybe just one quality is shared and maybe one is the odd one out?

And would Miles be the such and would he be the one, and if he were the one, what kind of one would he be? Is it because we don’t value ourselves so much that we become attached to someone who keeps luring us in? And how come I had hated myself so much, is it because I had never had sex with Jack? Is it because I only had sex with Matt and he would never utter the same words which would come each day from Jamie’s mouth against my throat and his tongue on the ready, ready to keep pushing me over the edge sexually and emotionally.

How come some loves consume, once fully blossomed and words lack all speech, because it becomes the blood flow and how repetition becomes the heartbeat and as essential and fear strangles due to the unsure insecurities, because they say love happens once in a century and I’ve had far too many and only one so far to shatter my being, to make me as infinite as the waves below, as the light reflecting through the waves and washing down everything to make it swirl and dance throughout all beings of the planet. 

And it keeps escalating with each kiss, each touch, each thrust as he pulls me back in, for another kiss and I’m scared to even look at the watch to even see when do the hours slowly start becoming minutes, my being shaking from the fear, from the departure and I wonder if my kiss is as salty as my own tears might be and I wonder if any of us will even cry or just shatter inside, just to pray upon something, upon no departure and cursing that we weren’t doctors of such, but then would we have the luxury of a utopia where we could afford to be openly gay in our minds and within the walls of the ship solely to our hierarchal destructive nature? 

And I wonder how much do our minutes even vary from the actual minutes and we seem to keep clinging onto each other, keep kissing as minutes seem to pass and I wonder if they had excessively even morphed into hours and life is full of regrets, fear that you haven’t talked enough and the talk of grabbing books is discarded by the sole desire of keeping kissing, sex avoided for the sole sake of erasing frustration from the length to calm down, the kisses either increasing or decreasing, as the pain starts lulling in and seems to blacken the scene as I keep kissing and he kisses one last time, before glancing at his watch, wine drank and all spread on the lips and dried up to be fixed with lost saliva.

“It’s close to five.” His voice cracks so much that if you were to hear Jamie for the first time, you would think that it was a broken clock to begin with. He sits up, turning to face the window, which barely lets any moonlight leak in and I watch his shoulders rise and slowly push down, as he turns to face me and I even feel my hands ache and break, as if held tight rather than untied and loose. 

Was the pain due to the fact that Paul had cheated on me or was it solely because he had left me and was it even hypocritical of me to judge if I were simuletionuesly reading in my head about numerous men as if they could all join me in an orgy and I would be the main centre piece?
How would I feel then? An object of desire by those who I desire and would they be jealous would I be jealous if Matt were to kiss Jamie, leaving him surprised yet kissing back? Was that an image of fear or was that my sole cry for masturbation and loneliness? Was that my manifesto of being in love with too many men, just as wrapped in the spiders web as evident and sticky as sperm? Was that what bonded us our own harvested goods?

I just feel like depression and null melon melancholy will keep taking me and it’s won’t even be flirting or a conversation but an awkward side by side sit as I would feel it slowly deep inside me as if I were breathing someone else’s cigarette smoke.
Sleeping in bunk beds after Jamie’s room seems far too intimidating with suddenly it becomes far too many men and cluttered to even think properly until under the covers, curled up and head against the wall instead of pillows, allowing myself to forget about everyone else whom I’ve ever known.
Paranoia withers at dawn, as the sun is still cluttered by winter and I slowly dress up, as if I were escaping and sneaking out as I let Jamie do my tie, as I keep watching him, never looking up and fingers shaking at the unnecessary knot, which he had undone as well. Love seems to glitter through, but our own teeth are held at departure.
I try to fog up my mind or at least drop the veil, to make sure that we are at least watching a movie but instead it falls under standing under the rain with a cloak and hair soaked already. And it’s not even that I’m alone under my desire veil turned cloak but Jamie is with me, to make sure that my own sudden disappearance is far more painful.
Silence seems to be butchering time short, spiralling into something shorter as we both dress and his excuse is to walk on the ship and check if he had taken everything and that shall be it. And even then we both hesitate within our mute speech to do so, as untangled hands are the worse at times.
It doesn’t escalate it gets worse as an axe, as the fingers are numb through the sufficient cold and we go past the streets, barely recalling how we had left the hotel in a hurry, lips paralysed only to be dragged in haste to an alleyway with a cat sleeping.
We kiss, holding, as if our hair could go gray anymoment and misery is just the snapping of the fingers as the warmth breaks.
"Yeah." Jamie utters, looking down, his coat unbuttoned and scarf loosely hung around his neck as if it could be a loop, but death rarely comes to those who seek.
And that is all.
I grab his shoulder and I kiss him again, even softer, nearly a flutter as we depart back to the streets, I stretch just for my limbs to ache more as he watches me and in that moment I feel that as cliche men we hold our emotions far more in tact than we should.
We agreed to come first and Jamie says to keep whatever he had left behind and then just give later, shrugging.
A mere moment of getting caught becomes the price of minutes with him.
We don’t dare to kiss, but he hugs me.
That’s all.
We don’t even allow our heads touch the shoulder, just a brief hug, which is far tighter and the jerk of Jamie’s body as he just let’s go of me.
I take out a pack of cigarettes as he hands a small envelope.
"You forgot your own birthday, I did as well." He mutters, sighing. I just shrug.
"I don’t see the difference between getting older by days or years with you." I gulp painfully, feeling my throat close up intensely.
Jamie hugs himself and looks around just to see the night, the stars barely even seen now and sailors most likely passed out under bar stools. I just get closer, reaching out to touch his cheek, but land on his shoulder.
Too many sentences, phrases and words circulate.
"I love you." My voice just falls down and not even shards are left, Jamie nods, looking down, his whole body now shaking.
"I… Have to go." I mutter, speaking for both of us. I quickly kiss him, praying and then give him my first letter, not censored and heartily true.
He kissed back and it started tracing in my mind even harder as I headed up to the ship, always glancing back at Jamie, who managed to wave and we both hesitate but never risk, as I just head inside, before I take a deep breath and then all my fear tips me over as I close my mouth to muffle and weep loudly, alone on the ship.

And I can’t seem to calm down and surely not know even which direction to go, my whole body giving up on me, hands covered in salt already, even if the tears dry up after a while, the whole body is still hysterical and my mind just urges me to lock myself up in Jamie’s room, the whole ship now reeking of silence and some dead end, some tunnel which would only end in three whole months and in this exact port and I would tell myself to solely think of how I would think of seeing him again, how I would pin him against the door again, feel him excited at my fingertips, but everything seems to venture and let everything down, just the faint reminder and saying of the departure in a few hours. I manage to force myself to go over to the bunks, a heavy alcohol regret and lack, all wine filtered in my body to even not allow an illusion of alcohol intoxication, as I just lay down, before I pull the suit off, my body just hammered numb, all clothing taken off besides undershirt and underwear. 

I inhale with my mouth open, as if to cry again, but nothing comes, the mind numb as if Jamie never existed and I look at my wrists as if to see traces of his fingers, but nothing, people remain and withdrawal is felt on the chest, as if I could stretch it open with my fingers and retrieve my lover.

I turn around, just to feel his lips and a prayer to see him in my dreams, scattered, shattered and exposed as I am. A misery to share.


I think this is the oddest chapter to post when 


Yup yup yup :D and yeah, it pretty much mostly describes two days which happen, if to spoil and I hope you had enjoyed the ride, the other chapters will be published in the next few days and don't forget that we're only in 1940 so there is just so fucking much left of the story:) it's odd, I've admitted that I'm writing this surely for the next few years, but at least I'm a few months off the end of the first part, thank fuck XD 

It was a nightmare describing the last day between Alex and Jamie because I ship them so much and I knew what's ahead even if nothing goes as planned when writing Captain Jamie specifically in To Miles for some reason xD 

I like sidetracking from the main arc if you must and I still regret killing Jack from day one, but he allows me to give bittersweet memories and build a myth around him, which is quite interesting to write:) I'll keep silent because this is not the last spoken of Jack :)

What was the worst thing I had done was actually asked by an old classmate of mine, it's really weird to look back into your life and frankly realize why so many things hadn't worked out or so many had backed out, how much friendships were formed by crushes, it's really odd. And I guess with time I get a bit reluctant to talk about personal, he had reminded me of what I had liked in one of my boyfriends from years ago, funnily enough I don't keep in touch with said ex and the guy mentioned we both lost touch, kind of not the best of things to recall when you get fucked over by some xenophobic shits. 
And I didn't know what to reply, I had backstabbed people, but I had never done anything bad and it was one of the earliest conversations we had had. So my own reply made me think a lot of myself. I honestly couldn't think of anything and all my suggestions were discarded as not bad enough xD

I dunno, I like showing how rookie everyone seemed and in general it's interesting to enter even a closeted queer space.

I forget that he and Alex never fucked. Makes me sad, one sex scene short xD

I started slipping talk of insomnia as I had been suffering from it heavily at the time.

I won't spoil anything of Al's Devil talk.

I couldn't even write the departure scene on the laptop so I just banged it out on my phone, nearly crying and I myself wasn't in the best of states, so it was easier to write it out somewhere else. 

Ironically I recall I had hooked up with a bloke once and he had to leave, we hooked up on the last day, by hooked up we made out and a year later he had blocked me on Facebook. And I recall that we had solely half an hour and I was the one to announce the end of it, as he had to leave (trying to recall if it was 5 or 6, I think). But looking back, everything is just so fucking gay. It wasn't as painful.

Seeing Callie off was painful, so that's where the memories are collected and it's very odd to look back since we've been together for nearly two years now (living :) not LDR). 

I had shamelessly forgotten Alex's birthday and that was my solution. 

And yeah, I don't know what else to say, this was awful to write and was written on the phone, the last scenes and I was dreading everything else. 

Thank you and I hope you enjoyed it

And thank you for all the Nanowrimo support, I will have No. 1 Party Anthem up soon, the wait is nearly over xD

And yeah, I'm off to cry about those two (I'm a non-spoiling asshole xD)



To Miles 46

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

To Miles 44

We’re all dark creatures because our infatuation and sexualization of death seems to be more than the peak of us, rather some sort of cult as once my father had spoken, saying that it was because we knew that we would be judged upon the final day and thus that was where our obsession came, because we ourselves couldn’t judge ourselves and our curiosity upon how others saw us was solely over-shun by how the actual Lord would see us and what he would actually think of us and which sins were solely in our head, which were the ones for us to be forgiven and what was the final hammer and what was it, the final tact which we would dance to before death, what was it that tipped us over to the edge to finally rest from walking under the sole sky and on the muddy ground? What was it that was the final thing that we would see, just like the end of any novel, we were interested in hours and that’s why Alison would refuse to fortune tell deaths to ourselves, only talking cryptic, her hair entangled to match the eeriness of a spider’s web and the more I thought of her in Miles’ eyes the more she seemed like a black widow and if the Devil were to walk upon this land, whose body would he take in my life or was I the Devil itself?

And the more I thought, the more it seemed like a chant, like a mantra, like a sinful thought, what was the last drop and why was I more eager to believe in the Devil rather than God?

Was it because Alison’s eyes darkened on the last tipping edge, that she had been offered to exchange her soul for something else?

What would God do?

Or just like any righteous image he would solely restrain, just like any hero shows less incompetence and just the light doze of gold luck to turn things his way for thus that was meant to be? And why was the good side not tempting at all or was it solely because I didn’t seem to belong there, because I being gay seemed to be detached without thinking and speaking and why should my opinion change of a being who was capable of bathing us all in blood and taunting us with words of a bigger war through a fortune teller’s cards and what was good in telling us about a disaster which was supposed to happen? What was good about that when he himself, the Lord was the one causing the disaster? The Devil himself would watch and go exchanging souls and I could feel more of the Devil and I would wonder, thinking even darker how would it even feel to be asked about the deal and how much would it feel, how tempting would it be, was the pain that unbearable if something was attached?

Would I speak in tongues if possessed? 

How many of the myths were true and how many were just ripples on the ponds?

How much was even true?

And how much even happened when the veil of depression was upon my eyes?

How much love had I missed from Jamie as I myself seemed confused by the Devil himself?

How much had I been luring? How much had I been playing with fire? How much had I smashed my wrists upon until they would bleed against a pipe in a bathroom only to raise my head and maybe then I would see something and would it even appear in front of my eyes just to dismantle?

And how easy had it been to trick even if the sole thought would give a headache just as deep? 

How easy would it be to scatter the thoughts or would the thoughts scatter themselves?

How is it to look into something purely evil in the eye or do the thoughts just keep circulation and there is no actual change and no actual fear and what if the relaxation resembles the one during death?

And I knew these were my sole thoughts and sometimes after sex, you just go mute, the mind more than the stars and the emotions rising as if they were the sea breeze, blowing through the room, through every unnoticeable crack and sometimes discussion would even escalate into pyramids.

I’ve sure had sex with Jamie far much more than I’ve had with anyone else, I glance at him. I wonder if it was Alison or Miles and how often would it even be, more in a jealous way and I wondered if it seemed to torment me because something was going sour with Alison or had it solely been my head? And what was Miles’ thoughts regrading Jamie and Alison and where had the whole bitterness even come from?

“What’s with Miles and Alison?” I ask suddenly and Jamie just blinks, before he sighs and just kisses my shoulder. 

“Miles never properly told me, both of them claimed to have some rivalry in the past, but I never fully understood how far had it developed and Miles begged me not to ask and that one day, all of it would unlock and he would tell and Alison just refused to speak and over the years, maybe whatever had happened had erased as soon as I stopped dating him, but I honestly... just have a few ideas crawling in my mind, but I can’t blame either for something I’m not sure either of them did and looking at them now, I guess the forgiven belongs to the forgotten as well.” He pauses. “Miles was quite... shaken by whatever had happened. I’m guessing it had to do something with Alison inheriting the family’s gift and he hadn’t.”

Jamie rolls onto the side, sitting up and bending down to get my pants which have a packet of cigarettes. He lights one, glancing at me, before giving me the first inhale and I watch his tousled sexual being. I watch his hair and I wonder how soon will I miss its touch even more and how much would it even expand and how many holes will I be able to lace through myself and how many will I continue to open myself so that I would bleed, thinking that perhaps the lack of blood would ease it, but more will develop by white blood cells and it would keep getting worse, a constant state of resurrection and in the emergency room with no one to attend me, not even due to my condition, but due to the lack of Jamie Hince himself.

“So... I’m guessing, perhaps something happened between them. Alison seemed just as hurt when I had met her, she wouldn’t speak too fondly of her brother who seemed to have no idea what to even do with his life, so I’m guessing the fact that I showed up and showed something acceptable instead of just moping around with no idea and being shoved into something a pair of fortune telling families could not understand what to do, seemed awful to each and every one of them. And then he met me and exclaimed, yeah, I’ll be a sailor.” He shrugs. “So I have no idea, who had let down who, because both seemed just as hurt, but now they seemed to have calmed down and now it’s Miles AND Alison at my throat for understandable reasons. Well, Alison at least...”

“I always wondered if I was the one who ended up tempting her to cheat on me as well since I would always have someone else on my cards even if my words would speak otherwise and I would come up with any excuse, but sometimes cards lie as they speak from the lips, but the interpretation will reach the person who asked their fortune, just for them to understand, because it’s still their life, not the fortune teller’s.” He chews on his bottom lip, looking far up, still thinking and musing, unwrapping each thought gingerly as the wrong received Christmas presents. 

“What if I was the one who had caused the mirror effect, because if a marriage was a mirror, it was still the one’s who brought the ghosts’ fault for all its turbulence and disturbance and I happen to be more than a chain rattling ghost, I happened to have far too many lovers and encounters because I, just like Miles, seemed to have something...” He pauses. “...Wrong with Alison. Some subtle gut feeling, which is even allowed to speak out as I keep thinking about everything, tongue fully untied post-coital. I mean, I know she’s a fortune teller, but at times I wondered if I was just going along for I had shown up as the father of her children on her cards and we seemed to go along with it, I loved her... I do love her.”


“But it still puzzles me, how much do cards tell? Because they do. But who is it that I end up with or is because I end up with two, is that too much for the cards to even mutter to me?” The question is asked to the open, without even recalling a response of my lips, as the cigarette is just lazily dragged from mouth to mouth to be finished for the next, to escalate into a chain smoking glamorous gay sailor event. 

“I think cards just tell what they tell, but what is it that they tell... it’s surely something we are fated, because our life is still awfully simple which a deck of cards is much easier for us to tell. We think our lives are not simple, but they are. What do we do? We love, hate, fuck, eat, sleep and that’s pretty much it and a bunch of random activities and even if you think on love, we don’t even love that many people and we are not as intelligently wrapped in love affairs as a tree’s branches, we don’t try reaching for the sky, we are happily and simply happy on shore or on the ship and we choose the simplest ways to live, solely because we are terrified of our own judgement, we play safe perhaps because we are our Lords and we want ourselves to be thankful for the shitty, simple lives where we are outlaws regardless of what we do and where we think that skin seems to dominate everything, that chemical compounds seem to make a fucking massive difference. It doesn’t, yet we place ourselves above others for the nasty tingle we get hate, because for some reason the person doesn’t please us with their feelings towards us and it’s a cycle, it’s a fucking ugly cycle and besides love, that is the second branch and I don’t think a two branched tree even exists or is pretty, so therefore... perhaps we don’t exist by the end of the day, if we can’t even recall our own death in a relative measurement as time which holds our death dates.” I shift sadder into thinking about death, about my own fear of getting judged and getting something red wrapped around my neck, as if it were the inquisition because it hadn’t reached me whilst I was solely alive and thinking that my existence had meant something.

“I didn’t want to die when I was fifteen and the fear kept escalating, that I was doing nothing, that everything was planned and I just kept working and my own confusion regarding the people I loved. I loved both men and women and both seemed to be attractive under different lights and the love was deeply different, it was like trying to different dishes and it wasn’t even which one I preferred, both were different and both seemed to be needed. I didn’t understand how could people choose one over the other and my own confusion seemed to yank me out of the fear of death, solely because we distract ourselves from the upcoming death which travels, from what you said, through relative things such as time. Because time just stops existing but it still manages to hold our fear back, the whole fact that we’ve got time left unless someone pulls a trigger upon us...” I get a quick sense of deja vu on the trigger, but I guess it’s because I had gun training and for some reason weapons and machinery, even my own turret, would echo some deeper deja vu for no reason over the years, even as I would look over and try to see where to even hit the target, because all seemed too relative as we were discussing. “So the fear would escalate silently over the years and I seemed to be getting worse, thinking that I do nothing. That I hadn’t let myself immerse into anyone and me and Alison seemed to be dancing mindlessly and I wondered if people’s words regarding cards weren’t true, but the more she would predict deaths, minor incidents and the birth of our children the more I would see...”

“I guess the oddest was the fact that she had shuffled for us and I recall I had been drinking coffee with Archie constantly jumping on me and she had put a card of something heavily departing from both of us. And she had solely wrapped up the deck and I had presumed that she had been cheating on me and we seemed to have other cards besides each other’s as we would keep on predicting what would lay, what would await us and our mouths were locked because we ourselves knew the sins we thought we would be judged for and of course we judged the other for never speaking. And perhaps it is cards which drive us insane, because either way, no matter how we find out how time relatively is holding back our misery, judgment or excitement, we know what awaits, not our physical death but if we die internally when does it happen and why. We all know and some morons try to deny it, but it’s because they’re dead inside already. If you don’t believe in fate, that’s because you don’t have one. Be critical, be brutal, for those who don’t believe in you, shouldn’t be believed in vice versa. I believe in fate.”

He says that all chewing his turn on the cigarette. 

And he is more beautiful than I had ever seen him, maybe because of all the traces of sadness we both seemed to carry in our pockets due to the departure for months in a few hours and all of our misery gathering and all of our desire to say that time is relative, because if love were to break our bonds, it would’ve, but all is intact, sometimes love is so strong that even breaks the bonds which were to hold in to break it. Sometimes fate is so strong that it breaks itself, it becomes a matter of something can only break itself in the way it wants and our love seems to be breaking anything in its path and time wasn’t even relative anymore, it was as subtle as any wave which would become a ripple in a child’s play, a shadow play which held no significance and maybe that is what the Devil offers if he is sure that one is scared that such love won’t happen and that is when the bond breaks, because you don’t think it’ll happen and it’s not even that you get punished, all just resolves and love becomes time, the thing which is far from relative, the dragging thing and the measuring time and space item, the sole thread in all the cloth, which never breaks and holds all the material together

maybe love is dark matter

and maybe I just want Jamie back already, because no matter how much we break and speak the pain will inhale and escalate to the heavens, making us lose control in a way that even I fear that he would leave me in a way, that the letters would never be meant to arrive and I would be left alone in fear and isolation, for my lover wouldn’t look back at me and I shall solely regret all the kiss he had given me through out something relative. 

“Maybe love is the journey for one to know how deep can they love?” Jamie’s voice echoes from before as past seem to strike present down, as I just look at him in a more vast and clear light, as I take the cigarette just to blow smoke in his face for him to inhale, closing his eyes, sexually before kissing me softly just to slowly kill the moment for some more frustration and sex reminder. “That’s what I would think with Alison.”

And it is their bitterness which shakes me away from them as a couple, it’s like watching some royalty get arranged married for no reason other than some twisted fantasies which I only prayed someone would jerk off to to give it some abstract value. Because marriage without love seemed to hold no significance because we seemed to give to many lives a random dice roll for them solely to be judged, when we ourselves judged enough already so what was the point of judging others to suicide, to the obsession, to the tip, as my father put it, of judgement day so that they would either inhale or exhale fear, doubt and protest because we all seemed to escalating into hell.


I coughed.

Maybe I had caught some damn slow fading winter cold again or maybe I just had shouted too often during sex and that just made me more excited as I gently pulled Jamie’s lip, our relationship being one whole sexual act of something mutual, even if it were not from the beginning perhaps everyone being fucked up in life made it more interesting and made all of us the Devil, for God wouldn’t even be interested in us, in our beings and souls to even trade them since he had counted them as granted. 

Maybe life was more than a sole puzzle, all pieces seemed to be missing beside the person but maybe we had all been given the absolutely wrong instructions for us to fail, yet to find the ones?


I exhale, letting the pilot invade my mind in a moment of silence with another lover, even if they were to never intertwine, like wild roses and I had loved them such and wanted to make love to them such, I loved them both in the ways you would love a wild rose, like both you and them would tell you to, with the thorns piercing and slicing the skin to reveal the blood to bathe naturally in, without drowning, adding colour to the skin and revealing the fear of loving someone else in an odd mutual twisted way.


I realized that during last Nano, I had the long conversation between Miles, Alex and Julian and I guess now we've got Hince and Alex. I'm sad that Nano is approaching an end and I should really binge tomorrow to catch up and frankly start wrapping up closer to 50k and even finish, so I'm happy to binge and do word wars with anyone really, so just pop me a message :)

I'm awfully excited, but obviously with mood swings it comes with fear and the fact that I have not only to catch up but write a lot:) I also felt a bit knocked out today due to the fact that I had an awful incident at a hairdressers where they didn't only misgender me, called me female but even gave me a different name. It was awful and tried to get a higher price and refused to take the cancellation, it was awful, so yeah. I'm a bit calmer down, but sometimes when something like that happens I just shut down and I think the fact that I discover how high I actually make my voice due to it breaking recently made me even sadder. I fucking sound like Harry Styles, it's fucking weird. Anyway and it's quite sad that dysphoria gets really bad and I'm quite poetic right now as I should be off to bed or writing nano and here I am, I erased a phrase to be used. 

It's weird because I'm ahead so I have to keep my sadness to myself for now.

I use things which I've been told maybe many years ago and I remember my dad had once said that humanity has a cult of death in my teenage years and went on a long speech about it, that came back to me and thus this paragraph was born. I get a lot from talking to my parents and as I was awfully lonely growing up and no one seemed to be reading the books I would, I would talk to my parents a lot and now it's a bit odd that I've read more and different ones, my focus is different and of course I focus on queer authors and I seem to be writing my own even more. 
But Alex's thoughts are different of course.

The more I write Alison, the more I give her my fortune telling abilities and once I was asked if I could do a full life fortune telling and I said I needed time, because I don't do those usually. I don't like them that much, as I seem to be better at future ones, scattered and those are the ones I've been using my whole life, vague yet accurate. All lovers predicted, really.

It's not my fave thing to talk about this at night, but of course you always wonder if you had wandered too much, because it is an interesting subject and we are all curious and I leave it at my fiction. I guess regardless of how much I hated the Ninth Gate, it still made a point that the more you venture the more dragged in you get even if you yourself didn't venture deliberately. I hated it, but it still springs in my head and I muse on it. Speaking of such things, I really enjoyed The Conjuring and I was very pleasantly surprised to see them do everything properly, prepare everything and I could point out everything they were doing and why, there was just one thing I wouldn't do, but it's more like I wouldn't go around cursing on whomever was there, but that's not a mistake, rather how everyone would handle, but I was really surprised and loved how well they did everything, so I guess if going by what I go and what I know, the Conjuring is a good thing to watch if you want more backstory on how everything works and if to explain the story '-' in a better light. 

I guess being open, I'll see whether I'll have Alex have the same thing Alison described, but To Miles deals with it, so I'll see and I tried to be as accurate and yeah, I'll leave it as such. I think I'm still awfully obvious. I like discussing it because it's interesting but frankly terrifying y'know. Again, better descriptions and a close resemblance would be '-' (that's the story title xD). I also go deeper on the subject in the backstories as well. 

I was just going on the whole usual debate, why God allows everything if y'know presuming that he exists, I do contradict myself, I know. And it's just something Alex would think about it rather than myself.

I find it interesting to write Alex who didn't have anything like that and just have him think around or Alison, really, who had.

So yeah, I just think around as if I hadn't known, really and it's not the best topic to discuss, it's far from fun.

Wow, I made a sudden change into sex, anyway.

After sex you shut down, so that's where it comes from. I always get the most loosen and talk of the most bizarre things sometimes, but that's for me and Callie to recall xD

Before Alison fucked up, I was musing on this Alison and Miles arc and I'm keeping it and slowly will start going in it. 

As far as I know I was the only one from my mom and my sister who got card fortune telling, everyone else dreams and etc. But then I would keep doing it over the years and keeping it up, even got a book xD

I just love describing Jamie, dunno, I do.

I never really struggled with what I wanted to be, I wanted to go further into teaching English, but everyone pressured me out and I wanted Psychology as well, so I just ended up pursuing it and frankly I wouldn't stand a bunch of heteronormative wankers, but what saddens me from this whole story was that I won't ever be able to study English Literature as I wanted in the UK, a old, old, old childhood dream of mine, fuck you, UK for being a xenophobic scumbag machine, but then I wouldn't focus on psychology now and I have the freedom to write as I want and read as I want, but my anger doesn't stop from because me being happy, what revolts me will keep revolting me.

I like fate, I like talking about fate and of course, I get scared ever since my therapist fucked me up what if fate doesn't exist, which just makes me feel very self-conscious and even more, but hey, more things to think over and confirm fate over stories, yay xD

I feel odd, because I feel like I have discussion with my own fear with my characters because sometimes they touch subjects I am scared of to address to myself, so it even becomes a bit of a letter from me and Callie to me, because Callie usually reassures me obviously xD

I love reading Jamie's interviews and even if I don't like his Esquire ones, they have interesting bits like his whole fear of losing time and dying, which is something I feel every day, I always think that I'm losing time, that I am wasting my life, that's why I hate sleeping. 

I'll just be silent on spoilers x) and Chekhov's guns through out the story:)


All my sad one-liners are me being angsty, having a crush isn't fun sometimes. Well, it's lovely but in limbo sucks awfully.

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did :3 thank you for the love



To Miles 45

Sunday, 23 November 2014

To Miles 43

“I feel like I’m still in love with something old... Some old memory and somehow my love just stayed attached to whatever happened. But people change, we keep loving the people, but never the change... sometimes.” He speaks a bit slow, looking at the wine glass, now playing the box with the last cigarettes. 

“Anxiety is clouding up my mind, erasing my thoughts and making me love the past more because I don't see a lot of love around, I just see obligations and I am my own paradox with still loving a woman. I don't know where I’m going and where is the feeling...exactly.” He adds the word as if regretfully.

My own head is in it’s own turmoil, the fact that I would be left alone, my own desire to solely talk to Jamie pushing me away and the rift between me and Miles, perhaps not noticeable at the canteen’s table during any of the meals, but everything seemed to make drift further and I didn’t even have an idea that Jonny and Carlos would trade books nearly silently, but then end up talking, letting someone else comment on what had someone else read and I had ben stuck rereading Russian literature in my spare time just to argue drunkly with Hince in his cabin, perhaps even the captain hat on me for the effect on who was talking. I feel like I need to learn that ignorance doesn’t die and that is my cross to bear and anyone’s whose thoughts seem to dwell with their wellbeing and confidence, the irony of being born into something which wanted to get rid of you seemed far too paradox for the rules to even be justified and for God to be dignified. 
I feel like I could hang myself from a cross for the silence of attention. My thoughts were racing and I could feel my own anxiety building up, seconds lasting longer and days unfolding to be full paragraphs and novels just to be discarded by my own depressed state. 
I’m wrapped in a web of lies and fake belief. I could feel a veil fall upon me like that faint dream I had months ago of a wedding and suddenly I didn’t feel like the bride anymore, yet I had a veil on and everything was cluttered outside and the noise was vile, as my anxiety seemed to seek me out just to pin me to the wall, it was much more simple when I would tell myself that Jamie was something I hadn’t wanted, letting yourself be loved is the worse thing to hear from someone’s mouth on your relationships, but it seemed to true, because no matter how you would toss and turn, their feelings wouldn’t change at least from who you truly were. If they wanted to leave it was a call for solely letting them love you without you in the picture up on a wall and you wouldn’t wear their veil they let you under. 
Fear and betrayal cross minds, as I wonder how people see it different, how I would be judged like Miles or would be given a pat by Jamie. Maybe because I were the Devil, I were to fall in love with one and I wondered how twisted would Miles’ God being be, for judging just as pure as God would and would allow his fingers, touch and thoughts corrupt all of us for he had judged us on our impurity, but his own was never judged upon but read out to the morning’s soil as a prayer for harvest. 
I would wrap myself with a cloak, but I’d want him with me.
The puzzle pieces don’t match and I can’t even find the corners I have found before.
Insomnia is when you’re falling asleep when you’re not trying and have crippling anxiety while trying.
“There is the atrocity of thinking that love mutates and specifically not your love. Because you know what you feel-” And he stops, as I cough lightly, anxiety rising and that’s when Jamie looks around and the closest he can do is grab my wrist and the other hand on my shoulder. “Alex.”

I just cough louder, covering my mouth-

Parallels keep rolling, as if two movies at the time, his fear, my own fear and somewhere the two movies clash and they are awfully bright in tones. 

And I feel as if insomnia will just make the days longer, I remember before both me and Matt had left it seemed to trail on, all thoughts seemed to be scattered and sleeping at my parent’s was awful, as I had no idea what to expect during training and Matt kept trailing ideas in my head and looking back, I have no idea how we hadn’t been caught at the party and the more I tell myself about it, the more I wonder how real had it been, how real had it been that I had collapsed in a bed with him, the whole encounter and the ferris wheel and my own anxiety trickling down like blood from a wound and nothing seemed to ease me. My whole mind flaring up and the fact that me and Jamie had to depart was just making the day painfully longer. 

He still holds my wrist and when he holds it tighter, the veil is pulled back from him and I can see around and thank fuck I’m not in a dress, this is no longer a marital ceremony because I wouldn’t be able to have one if I happen to have partners such as Jamie and Matt. I wonder how would it work with Karen who could just redress and marry any of her girlfriends and that would be all. I wondered what was her ideology, if she would do it, but then if I could, I would just do it so that at least some hassle was taken off my back.

“You want to head back?” And the insomnia just vanished one day and the fact that it even affected me as deeply, was the night afterwards, waking up, all the body aching as if I had some rough night and all the poison could be easily erased, that all could be discarded and I could be forgiven. But perhaps if I am the Devil itself I could forgive myself?

“Yeah.” I nod, Jamie tracing his thumb over my wrist and I look down, feeling my cheeks heat up and we instantly push ourselves back as the waitress comes to take the plates. Sometimes I get so anxious that memories leave me and I can’t even recall how it felt to eat the salad and I am left pondering how come it made it’s way into me and how come I had managed to chew so fast? That’s why sometimes I recall memories I never even felt at the moment and I myself become an unreliable narrator to myself. 

We get the check and split it in half, as usual, me yawning as I get my wallet out and Jamie smiling softly and I just smile back, pausing before taking out the note. Sometimes I feel myself fade out as if I were just watching him from a distance and I myself wouldn’t exist. 

As soon as he gives us our coats, he stands close to me.

“You alright, Al?” He asks and I just wish I could kiss him and I wonder if I would ever be able to strip that tape away from us, that we could be able to do it, instead I just smile at him, wishing I could, even briefly, softly and his lips haunt me with temptation as a python around my neck and instead I look at my shoes, graced by winter’s mud already. I sigh and we depart slowly.

One quick stop to buy cigarettes in a small, yet still open store, as I walk briefly from the one brief end to another as Jamie buys quite a few boxes. I’ve stocked up enough on the previous time and we had mostly smoked Jamie’s stash of cigarettes or I would end up betting candy as usual and then would exchange with Julian for cigarettes. 

Even in the darkest of streets it was hard to hold from holding hands, but soon enough I went upstairs to the hotel, past the reception and opening the door, thoughts pumping in my mind, as I removed my coat, hanging it on the hanger, thinking of Jamie’s hands and lips all over my body. I bit my lip and waited for a while, even musing on a cigarette just to ease the tension and once he had entered the room, I banged the door shut, pressing him heavily against the door, Jamie pushing all our top clothes aside so that at least our chests were together, pulling him closer, already feeling night calling out on his soft stubble, as I keep kissing him. Nostalgia, love and memories come in vain. All seems to scatter with desire as I keep pressing him harder, as we both get more excited with a shade of tense. 

I used to think that I’m too heartbroken to do anything, but eventually I ended up falling in love with different people, but Matt was still upon my mind, an old scar which never seemed to stop bleeding with no clue if the other man was wounded in the duel, he had fled before I even knew if I fired or not, let alone missed. 

But you should push all the thinking away even if it wouldn’t be your advice to yourself.

We break the kiss, measuring our own oblivion and then continuing hungrily somewhere between where we had left off, pushing each other on the bed, I was tracing my nails on my back, pulling his lips with my teeth, causing a louder moan, perhaps a bit too hard as I could feel him yank the covers off from underneath us, the heater now realizing that we were reaching a deeper night and the room was far hotter, let alone from his presence, as I felt his hands pull my pants and underwear down, gasping at his hand grasping my erect cock. 

I don’t know how much should I dedicate to you, because everything is so blatant to be about you, already.

If the body were to be my own in my hands, I would want to re-watch every word written on every inch of his body before falling into what death’s hands would feel like.

It’s not even lust, it’s desire for the whole being rushing in and swaying against the deck, him pressing me even harder into the bed.
Sex with said person has its own unique taste to linger more déjà vu through a lone night. And it keeps missing in more intense shades and it seems somehow far more tense in action than words could describe, something rising and nearly an in and out of body experience with far too much saliva, sweat and skin mixing with some rough raw human emotion which seems to shatter the being into something in comprehensive and softly vulnerable, something far too tender yet the passion far too burning with too much tugging. 

I sigh deeply, before holding my breath, clutching the bed covers, far too much dipped in ecstasy from his hand movements on my cock, as he locks his lips on my neck and I open my eyes to see his watching me and I feel far too unravelled to even hold myself together, as he keeps stroking up and down, before shifting to solely rubbing his thumb on the tip of my cock, then pulling my chin down and kissing me again as I moan into his mouth, barely being able to even do anything comprehensive, holding myself as he lets go and I’m left, heavily breathing as he just pulls me up into a new kiss, a bit less harsh and fast, kissing my cheek as I take his hand and push it lower, as he gets the hint.

I feel him slowly insert a finger inside me, as I moan even harder, grabbing his face with both hands and he doesn’t look too cool either, hair messed up and lips bruised with some essence of kissing as he pushes me back in, sliding a second finger, as he licks my lips and I clutch his back now.

I spread my legs and as soon as Jamie’s fingers are removed he positions himself and I gasp, biting my lip, as we both freeze before it adjusts and I tap his back as Jamie keeps kissing me, pulling me closer as he pushes inside deeper. We break the kiss and I pull his bottom lip with my fingers, my eyes barely opened from pleasure as Jamie presses his head against my shoulder, moaning softly, thrusting inside. 

He bites my shoulder before managing to capture my lips again as I feel his hand slide between us to stroke me and I moan much louder than before, thrusting against his hand, as he keeps sliding inside me, pushing deeper and pulling me closer, the other hand digging into my hips, pulling me much much closer

as he spreads my legs even wider, thrusting harsher as I run a final time with my hands down his back, not even breathing anymore, eyes wide shut as I dissolve, screaming that I can’t feel my throat, coming and spilling all over my stomach and his hand, as he loosens and moans heavily against my mouth himself, as I feel him fill me in, moan after moan, as the gasping becomes harsher, reaching a peak and then we both collapse in a mixture of each other, Jamie’s lips softly pressed against my neck, one arm loosely on my chest. I find the energy to hold him in a soft hug, as I curse inside and cough lightly, feeling the raspy feeling find my throat.

Jamie smirks.

“Shut up.” I cough, barely holding a laugh myself. I swallow, my throat slowly gathering some courage to adjust itself. “It’s not as if it’s the first time, moron.”

“Yeah, but you hold yourself on the ship. I should take you out somewhere more often.” He nearly purrs and I narrow my eyes at his mock voice. 

“Yeah, build a fucking house in the woods and fuck me sideways there. I reached my limit, I can barely feel my throat.” I rant, lovingly and exaggerated. I hold a cough back to hold his mocking laughter as well, as he props himself up to look at me from above and I stop thinking before he lowers to kiss me again, as I feel him fully leave my body as I sigh, feeling the odd hollowness after every sex session if I were to get fucked. It’s a slow detachment and departure from some odd lake, something far too mirror glazed. 

I think the only downside or rather upper side of any time I would have sex with Jamie, is that I always feel like I keep doing runs forever and maybe that’s the way it should be, never suffice, never fully letting you down, always lifting you up and the body is as if in a permanent state of sexual frustration and maybe that’s what love is, a permanent state of sexual frustration because we ourselves are so primitive that we can’t even merge into one human being and soon enough it becomes even more complicated solely on the fact that we can’t only fall in love and when we do sometimes it scatters because I seem to hold too much love and all of it has different shapes and forms, all novels of different kinds filled with love, sweat and betrayal solely because I don’t seem to be too full of belief for the exact amount of all writers who just have one novel which is their life story, because we die not even each night, but we die with each partner just to realize that the holy water against our lips was solely their to feed us to let us realize that it’s not even debt, it’s our desire to be in debt only under not so dark lights as one would solely image or let themselves be immersed in.


It's really bizarre that I've been writing without chapter breaks besides one and that's why this chapter and the next are 2.7k and ~3k rather than the previous 3.6k. I'll try to finish off the 50 k in the next few weeks, but I clearly see that I'll be writing this for the next few years xD I wonder how many though, but I've been thinking if part 2 will be shorter and how much shorter than part 1 and the epilogue itself should be huge, because I want to go over with what happens to the surviving ones, obviously. I don't think that's even a spoiler, because… obviously, it's war and some die. I'm mourning everyone as usual, already.

I dunno, I just love that it takes a big part of my life and that it's huge and has all these twists and turns and I can odd a lot of love interests to Alex to please my poly side, frankly.

It's also weird because I'm past chapter 45, but hey, I'm updating! I'm being good now XD 

It's also weird writing about their last day before departure which is a bit ironic, because Callie aside, I'm in this odd longing state, which makes more sense writing Alex without Jamie, so it was odd writing that and I had to keep pushing myself to write the last scenes in these chapters, that I just kept forcing me, because it was nearly impossible. And me and Callie were LDR for a few years, so it's quite hard to recall how hard it was, obviously it was with Callie and it amazing, talking on hours to end and making surprises and of course that moment when I'd see her and realize she's not the screen anymore, maybe that's why I don't understand fully people who don't spend all the time with their partners, dunno, even if I'm poly I stretch to either be with either of, but hah, now it's just me and Callie :3 dunno, how she stands me, but not for me to stand myself xD

Oh and if you're on tumblr, make sure to check out my new user pic, I've got a recent Jamie and Miles :D xD I can't stop laughing at it, because even if I don't write them as a ship as often (ok, that was a lie, I do) anyway, they're there and grinning XD ah, I ship them. 

It's really weird to dish out things I don't really think about, like love, how love changes and the thoughts of someone still venturing into said jungle, so it's very… weird and unexperienced. I feel as if I gained a higher level on a game app or something like that. 

I kept musing on Jamie's sexuality within the story, but I just decided to keep him bisexual as intended, as his relationships seem really parallel with Alison/Alex or Alison/Miles if going on the big ones and even if I enjoy exploring sexuality and all the exceptions or how people go through your sexuality, Jamie in the story is very well aware of his attractions and is something given to him, really. I always muse on Alex, in general I go through themes and gay yet someone falls through, I don't think that's going to happen in To Miles, I explore that in other stories and in more depth, I like keeping Al pretty much just gay. I dunno, I've been angry as usual and I get annoyed at tumblr because frankly no one talks about the violence against gay men and the more I read through history the more I see really the division law-wise and society-wise, so of course the causes are different, but I'm really getting ticked off at the erasure trans and/or queer men are getting on tumblr, that's why I've been focusing more on writing queer men, even if I obviously prefer doing so and is the most natural. I'm just really disgusted and triggered, that I'm seen as a joke, but that never made me erase females or write them significally less. I still make my best to make Alison's arc big (even if she's an asshole, I'm not shoving the arc away now, I claim my fictional Alison thank you very much), Lana's arc big, Karen has a lot to go and there's a few female characters coming in. I still think we all need representation and yes, I may be shifting my attention, but I don't erase and I make sure to keep them important, specifically Karen. 

But still the main focus is homosexuality within the navy and society and it would honestly offend me if someone would say "I love To Miles, Karen is the best and that's why To Miles is important!!! Girl power!" I would honestly be disgusted, because I've got other stories focusing on transwomen and women in general and ignoring that To Miles is about gay men, would be very ignorant, so please don't. I get really angry at In The Flesh for people saying that IT'S MOSTLY IMPORTANT BECAUSE OF STRONG GIRL CHARACTERS! YOU DUMBASS, IT'S ABOUT QUEER MEN IN THE FUCKING UK WHERE THEY BURN ALIVE AND KILL GAY MEN! GO READ SOME FUCKING STATISTICS!!! So, yeah, To Miles is about gay men thank you very much. 

I guess because it's Alex's journal just like memories, I like popping in random scenes from the past which hadn't been described previously and frankly I came up with as I was writing, like Alex reading out in Jamie's hat.

I've been reading more on my mental health and even if I am dealing with it a lot better, I'm really thinking and trying to break down all the symptoms, like derealization is now… a discovery which makes much sense. I read that it was like watching a movie and giving Alex a veil seemed a symbolic metaphor I wanted to carry on, as a symbol of matrimony which goes through the novel as neither of the characters who are cis and gay can't have (BUT C'MON GIRL POWER, sorry I'm really ticked off) and basically, that's how it feels with derealization. Everything feels unreal and you even can't recall things properly, it's a really weird state but thankfully it's easy to deal with. It's kind of you get shut down and you watch reality and it depends how bad it escalates, really.

The "scariest thing is to be loved by someone" was actually told by my ex-therapist and it was really fucked up. I didn't agree with it and it was an awful turmoil because I would get pressed for my faith/fate belief and eventually I had to quit, but that sentence stuck in my head as something deeply wrong, yet I used it in a story to explore. 

I like the analogy of Miles as God, if we were going by canon, since Alex and Jamie seem to be sinners and pretty much sending people to their death and Miles judging on his own mind, but never himself, I really like that… thinking. I like that I can hear someone else's point of view or explore as if I would hold it myself, when my own views on religion are different. I solely believe in fate, but I don't know how but there is something beyond us and there's too much evidence and I've spoken about it a lot, but I still feel presences and yeah, there's surely more than we think and we shouldn't venture, well, I wouldn't and I wouldn't suggest. 

I had insomnia for a few weeks so of course I added a line about it xD

Alex's thank fuck I'm not in a dress is actually awfully symbolic for me as a stab because I don't like how people divide gay couples into some stupid straight boxes, because in this case it's still two men and always will be in their case.

I also dipped in the sentence regarding Karen, because she can still use the ignorance to her benefit which is what a lot of people did and frankly as fucked up as it is to be trans, you still get good stuff sometimes, like I'm happy that me and Callie can reproduce which is something some couples can't do and I've always wanted children. This is a bit weird to talk like because when you're a couple I even had a friend ask if I was pregnant already, ugh because everyone knows you want biological children, but it also makes the question of hormones something I should google on a not so tired mind xD

I legitimately get scared that my sex scenes are the same xD I can't really give them much toys and etc, due to time and pretty much they're left to their own means, so I always panic if my sex scenes are bad xD and actually sex scenes are the longer ones to write, because I can't really fucking join them xD I have to write, so it's a lot of sighing, break and carrying on in a few seconds xD 

The italics is more of a Alex snippet of his own thoughts whilst writing this journal, I always think that he's describing the events only as they were being recalled in his head, going one by one and trying to keep it as it went, recalling his thoughts at the time, kind of like nearly life flashing before the eyes but not really.

I have a lot of I guess self-obsessed praise where I like lines I've written like "If the body were to be my own in my hands, I would want to re-watch every word written on every inch of his body before falling into what death’s hands would feel like." and to be honest usually those are a thought through out the day which I just quickly type in or write on the phone. I really like doing that, it's kind of me cheating and instead of writing poetry that how I sneak poetic lines in. Before I started writing poetry I remember I first went on my first Creative Writing course and I would get praise for those, that I knew where to break paragraphs and that was really flattering to hear, because I am awfully self-confident about my own writing and I'm scared what if this chapter won't be liked and what if someone still awfully dislikes Hince here.

In general every person will give you a sense of deja vu, depends on which memory it will revoke really during the odd deja vu xD

I think one of the most weird not really embarrassing moments is when you lose your voice after sex or it goes really raspy and aches. It's weird and funny xD and it's a fucking croak later for a good hour XD

So Alex was blessed with that today xD

I would get sad that I couldn't somehow become a merged being with Callie, because you've got all the shit single quotes all over like "you still die alone, don't wanna be single though1!11!!!" so those would get to me, I would get really ticked off that people disliked me and Callie dating coz we started dating when we were 15-16 so obviously people were more in a first love kind of thing and for some fucking reason, we were some target of "stop kissing, it's freaking me out" but they would make out with whomever once started dating. Ok. 

So those were my thoughts, really.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you did, I'll post earlier then >:D thank you!



To Miles 44