not dead yet

Well, I made it through another year. This one ranks up there with the worst of them. ...but I made it.


I don't like living this way. I live in seclusion. It's been about 5 years now that I've been living like this.


In '98 I "left home". I moved out of the city (for the most part) to escape a cocaine habit that nearly killed me.

I thought that I was going to turn over a new leaf and everything was going to be ok. I tried to work. Mistake. That was really stupid. Then I went online. Good and bad. It kept me going, but made it very easy to escape the world.

One thing leads to another.

At the beginning of this road, the end of the last one is a cocaine haze. Now here I am... where I don't belong.

I want to get rid of everything I own and rent a room somewhere back home. Home is Philadelphia. Home is not Bumfuck, PA.

A long time ago, I named my journal "The Lost Pigeon Project".

They say home is where the heart is... but what if your heart doesn't work right? Home used to be wherever I laid my leather jacket. Then I met L., and that all changed.

Problem is, although I'm still clinging to L., she long ago stopped clinging to me. We're two very different people now. Her world is not a world I belong in.


Where do I belong? I don't know exactly, but it's not in the world of Go-Go bars and motorcycles. It's not in cocaine land either.

Some days it feels like it's not anywhere on this planet.


Life has become very quiet. I see my brother every week or so, talk to A2 on the phone, go to my shrink, talk to L. about once a month, and post.

I keep the tv on a lot.

I don't know how to interact with people anymore.

I'm not good at pretending to be a little straight dude.

I'm "queer" in the pure sense of the word. Odd. Different.

I can't pretend... and that's what it takes for me to be a part of the mainstream. I have to fake it... or hide.

I'm in the closet. That's what my life has become. A life lived inside of a closet.

When I drink I fall out of the closet, and then it gets dangerous. My actions are deemed "inappropriate".

Of course they're inappropriate, I'm shit faced and I'm somewhere I don't want to be!

That was the step I took the other night. Rather than staying where I didn't want to be, I left. Left the safety of L. and started walking through bumfuck. It didn't matter. I'd rather be dead than keep faking it.

Now I don't know.

Would I rather be dead than without L.?

I don't want to live Dragon Con to Dragon Con. I want Dragon Con every day! I want to not have to fear being a freak all the time.


I want to go home.