Saturday, 11 July 2015

We've all been broken. There is something in the polaroids we take of the ones we love. 6

No matter what everyone tells you, the morning will rise and the sun will shine through the forgotten blinds, reminding of a summer with no one to share and confusion of how to be someone else. And I don’t even who to call because my head becomes noise and listening to Joy Division isn’t even depressing in the morning with toast and coffee. It’s odd how once you lose sense of reality and take a carefree job people will start telling there’s something wrong with you, that small jobs don’t make a whole and just because you’re not in an office from morning to evening with a wife at home, all is wrong. That it’s wrong to not do anything in the morning which starts at 3 p.m. and then go shopping for the rest of the day to kill time until the night becomes productive because you have deadlines. People don’t talk about that, because we can only praise what we have, because we’ve forgotten how it’s like to be nice in any of the conditions. 

I met her in a toy store, as I’ve done all the puzzles I have, realizing that perhaps my mania will stay for a few days after crying in a ball, a bit immune to wine and she’s there choosing dolls for a gift and it takes me a while to register as Valentine approaches me. When you don’t have enough malls, you’ll find everyone in the same part. She waves at me and continues choosing through some other ones. And that’s when I feel odd that she doesn’t even try to approach me. I hadn’t even read her text from last night. I ended up opening it, quickly glancing back as she was still stuck between toys. 

Valentine’s text was pretty much that she was well and that had been it. Taking the said 1000 piece puzzle made me feel odd leaving the store without even talking to her, but then she hadn’t approached me either and it ended up with her raising her eyes, holding her dark gaze and back to the said dolls. I pretended to choose between two puzzles as well, holding up some really bad drawn polar bears and then she had been watching my peculiar choices. It felt rather odd to even talk to anyone who hadn’t been Miles or Alex these days, since Brian had seemed to move on at least in my mind, so it was even bewildering as it was someone who wasn’t even a neighbor or a landlord where you had to make sure your mouth was shut for your own sane night. It was odd that she had also known me from word of mouth. And I hadn’t known anything besides presuming that some gossip had come around since they assumed me and Miles had been an item and also that just like Miles we would seem to stick out for being gay and not slept with each other while everyone else seemed incestuous, as if the people who enjoyed another gender’s company were as rare to find as the gay ones. 

And when she waved away, I wondered if she figured that it was better to avoid me at some extent and that ended up giving far too much thought and come to some conclusions I hadn’t wanted in any way. 

Brian would always come clearly to me, this time it was when he had grown his hair the longest and he had tried red lips for a while, leaving everything in the same patches of red and I would only wash everything away after he’d get back home and this time I actually regretted I didn’t have any lipstick traces anywhere, as I recall we were playing cards and he had started nagging that no one really speaks of sex realistically, that even when you read sex scenes they’re supposed to arouse you. Yeah, maybe some shallow ones which included thrusting in and out and that had been it would capture the shallow ones. But no one writes how you can abruptly quit sex to adjust pillows, because anxiety storms down or some random PTSD flash takes over you, the discussion who would be ready to take it frankly and all the implications of heavy pounding. Anything at all ended up always being taboo, Brian would nag, smiling at me as I would just shrug and he would scratch his already built up to the night stubble. That sometimes if you do thrust deep enough you could get a random pain spasm and then you need to cool off. That perhaps you have to shower before bottoming. None of that was discussed and nothing was addressed, BDSM was seen as just spanking and tying up and it was getting worse. People would start saying that the only sexual visibility was already sexual enough so we should stop. But that ends up in a bunch of gay men not even knowing what they’re doing cis or not. Neither is the importance of safe sex in gay relationships. It’s as if everyone finds out but you never speak of it. Everything is forbidden, frowned upon an judged as if people accepted gay men overnight, because everything with sex is wrong. Because if you want to get laid and you can’t you get cranky and you’ll never ask advice from someone who is getting laid. We never ask for help, so why would they regarding sex?

And sleeping is more than an escape, it’s a way to forget and pretend everything you’ve done is gone.

But what if we do fall in love with people we talk? What if we blindly do so because we’re so lonely? What if there is no love after all but just desperation and the need to survive if you fall down during a stroke, because being alone will leave you nowhere, while if you’re paying someone with attention they will stay

So survival of those who can get laid? And then what if sexuality means nothing so does it really matter who you’d prefer your whole life if you find solace in someone else entirely and curiosity just because they had heard a snippet of what it had been slowly to be you in a moment and from your own words rather than rumors? So where does love lay and what would friendship be then if Miles had been my friend and we had known why had we moved out. And what would that have meant in Alex’s case and I had barely talked to him on sexuality, realizing that he’d speak of it first if it properly crossed his mind. And it’s still odd to recall her as if she is a lost fragment of my imagination, a lost letter’s corner I had found again hidden in between a good pile of books.

And I find myself with Miles standing outside my door and it’s odd to know that we still have spares of each other’s apartments as it was far too sad to let go of both when we moved out and I wondered what went wrong with us and why couldn’t I even force myself to look for blokes instead of sulking at the lack of them.

"So you and Alex are dating now, then?" I asked, scratching my head and letting Miles into the apartment which he had the key too because I let him into me too easily. It feels tense specifically from Miles' side and I can only think of things which Brian had told me, laughing, high after some party I refused to go to that Miles was utterly in love with me and there was nothing I could do because I would never love him back that way, it wasn't even Brian speaking but he was saying the truth, my love was confusing because it would take so long to water and fall in love. He was right, I would never love Miles back but seeing him settle wasn't very nice to see either and specifically with Alex who loved him at the same time and was fucking him up. Alex was perfect if he had opened up to his sexuality or the fact that he was in love with a man and that didn't seem to be happening.

I don't even give him the chance to speak and I don't even know where exactly does my anger come from, because I was fine on the phone calls with Miles and everything, I was even okay with Alex who was the culprit of this whole mess, but I kept my mouth barely shut for now. 

"Don't you think you should really tell Arielle?" To which Miles stared at my past silence. He doesn’t say anything, shrugging and then we just both head in and I can feel him stare as I kick off my boots and he just stands in the corridor as if he was never welcome. I just nod at him, confused but then the problem about unresolved tension is that anything you’ll ever say will cause you both to break up as if you were a couple all along. So the troubles are why have we never tried at any point of our lives if we all depart anyway? Why can’t we ever say that even if we love, that we had said that one time, that we meant it in that way and we would’ve gone to bed in a different mood, knowing that everything would progress and we could do at least something instead of departing with nothing in hands. 

But maybe that’s because we don’t recognize the other we were dating and like a couple we depart. 

“Look, if it doesn’t satisfy you... I don’t even know, man.” And I see that he’s near breaking point and I’m sure he would’ve thrown flowers in my face if he ever had any. Two can play with game.

“Miles, I just don’t think it’s fair on Arielle-”

“And who is your friend, mate, Arielle or me? Bloody hell, you don’t even speak to Arielle, you don’t even fucking bother to cover me up at all, all you do is mop around, Miles ain’t my boyfriend or anything. You don’t bother-” And I stand up, he’s taller than me and we lock eyes. 

“And what the fuck should I be saying then, Miles?” And I grit my teeth. “Maybe if you didn’t run away with Alex, you’d have more of me on your fucking bowl since you never speak u-”

Miles stares at me wide eyed and it feels like a tea party where I’ve mentioned the murderer when no one talks about the spilt blood and we never discuss that one of us has ever killed and I pause, not wanting to even go there. 

“I fucking miss you as a frien-”

“As a fucking friend. Exactly, Jamie. As a fucking friend.” And he spits every single word out and we take a few steps back, both of us shaking no longer even wanting to know how lips of each other feel like as I don’t know why I even bother with someone who is allowing his boyfriend to be cheating on his girlfriend where they could all at least tell and try to open it up instead of flirting under the table for months. 

“And what the fuck do you want then?” I snap. I press my hands against the wall, leaning against it, digging my nails into the shitty wallpaper, hoping that I don’t hit him and we just watch each other up close when there’s a few steps between us. Miles doesn’t say anything, instead he sighs, I don’t know if his eyes are filled with anger or tears and he leaves. I head out, slowly as he storms out of the apartment and I don’t care, lighting a cigarette. 

“Au revoir, darling.” I yell.

And I think long. 

I can’t think of anything.

“Love you, Miles.” And let that sting, somehow, because words is all I have since no actions will make it sting under the bedsheets in the night after he’s done fucking Alex. 


It's a bit weird not to talk about the elephant in the room, but I'll go kind of as the story went. I had a struggle whether I wanted things to be as they would happen to me IRL or based off or how they would match up and here's the result really. 

I think I've spoken about it more openly, that when you're depressed, because you're so depressed listening to stuff like Joy Division doesn't put you down, because the mood is frankly the same. 

Also I guess I've learnt that no matter how shit things are, the sun shines through somehow.

I freelance and I kind of become open on what it is here, so I have nothing to add really.

I used to do puzzles a lot before I was medicated, I miss that, I should do some actually. It's really nice and all, but now it's for fun rather than maintaining mania. I wrote the Valentine chunk ages ago, actually. 

I missed writing this story because it's so... story telling if you must rather than spilling my emotions at times, I guess besides the elephant in the room which was based off a few conversations I've had kind of going on the platonic vs dating sort of thing and that inspired this and other stories such as Mimosa really. I'm sorry if the back story is short but it's very me telling stories and I was speaking of it to Callie as I wrote it and maybe coz I'm medicated but I was really happy and proud of myself for the love lines here which are the plot really. 

I'm an anxious person and I think I'm a nightmare during sex sometimes, because I can get anxious and when I write sex scenes I still make them flow like frankly any ideal sex session but that doesn't mean that sex is always like that. Sex is like that, but sometimes you drop and hyperventilate from some PTSD flash, sometimes you need to fix those pillows or sometimes you won't feel like that position at all and you're near. Neither does anyone talk of the misfortunes of bottoming at times or preparation for it. 

I actually started writing the chunk from Jamie and Miles talking in the bus because I was bored and I was going to write this today, so I gave myself a kick start really xD and this was very carefully planned so yeah, ages ages ago and before I even made IRL connections

I think the piece just speaks for itself and I like it the way it is, I love it

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you

Please tell me if you did, we'll mourn together xD and don't worry the next chapter will be soon :D 



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