someone can relate with this.
thanks for reading.
some folks might think some of us are crazy.
they can’t fathom that it’s hard for us to:
get into a relationship
feel like we’re attractive
be our most confident
we check all boxes of “having it together” on the outside,
but if only folks knew that we suffer in silence. .
one of my favs on twitter fonted the other day...
Dear Mr. Fox,
Its been a while since ive visited your website. Last year I used to wait religiously for every post, but ive recently stayed away due to the pornographic nature of some of your posts. Your persobality is why i loved the site.
My question is, can a broken man ever be fixed? Ive seen on numerous occasions about how men can be turned gay but theres never been an instance of a man becoming straight thats been celebrated. Since i was a child i thought i was doomed and that gay was a disease you caught.
My mother hates me. After she found out i had a chance of being gay, she no longer cared about me. I didnt realize this until i realized how depressed i was. Because she was my mother i never knew one could look upon their child with the same look of disgust as a crippled, dying dog. Instead Reflecting back on incidents after i got curious with google when it was still new she found gay porn on our computer. When that happened the christmas and birthday presents stopped. Her dismissals became more frequent and harsh. She even sent me to stay with abusive relatives that drove my emotions deeper inside me. At the age of 10, i got my fitst girlfriend. When her brother found out about me being black he gathered up his friends and started bullying me. Over time it got worse, the abuse was no longer verbal, but sexual. I was molested by a group of boys down our street… even now i get a cold, soulless feeling every time i think back to my childhood. over the years and she never let me seek help. What happened caused me to zone out, almost like what happens in get out. Listening to how black people talk about gay people further pushed me to the point of accepting my fate. As a young child, i felt like i was doomed and had no one to talk to. After stepping up to my abusers i began to come home with bruises along with damaged pride. They told me if i didnt give them what they wanted they were going beat me until i liked it, so they did. When i repeatedly told her i didn’t eant to play with the neighbors she belittled me fot not having any male friends. Eventually i learned to tolerate the abuse the only way i knew how. A couple of months of neglect went by until my mother finally asked me why i was coming home in tattered clothes every day. I was too ashamed to tell her about the abuse, but i told her about how they beat me. The police got involved but they did nothing, since one of the boys were related to a fellow officer. Being one of few black families in a country town didnt help either. Fast forward, i am now a sexually confused , anxiety riddled loner who cant seem to trust people. My mother had long stopped paying attention to me. She even began sleeping with my father who also wanted nothing tk do with me AFTER she told him i was gay. I dont care what anyone says, sexuality doesnt exist in children… it just doesnt. Telling or treating a child like they are something and they will eventually conform, which is what happened to me. I began following my sisters, only because they were the only ones i could trust. I sung my heart out to beyonce to please them. It seems the only times i could put a smile on my face was to make a fool out of myself. Every girlfriend i brought home was dragged and i was drug for dating her. I hought having a girlfriend was what most teenage boys do but it didnt make them treat me any better though. As an adult i attempted to move out and find my own. Being by myself i began to discover more about my brokenness. I remembered a time i didnt feel awkward for staring at a woman’s ass because i thought i was gay. I got a girlfriend and a few roommates i was living with. I felt like i could finally be my own person because at home i didn’t feel like a man. No car, i was never taught how to drive so i wouldnt ask for a car. No stable job and i didn’t care. After a few years my gas ran out. My lack of knowledge of the world stunted me from succeeding. I struggled until i couldnt struggle anymore and attempted suicide. I knew i had no chance if i went back home. Id rather have died than come back. I awoke inside the hospital to my mother and sisters making jokes at my bedside, my mother calling the rest of my family and telling them my attempt was because i was afraid to come out to her. After she did that, i completely cut everyone off. I literally began begging her for help and she just sat there. She told me if i want to be drugged up for the rest of my life then i can drag myself to the mental hospital. Now im stuck. Ive never felt i had enough parenting in anything and it definitely shows. I now feel stuck in my brokenness. At least now i understand the broken man, because ive been one. Thats the only positive i think i can take from this.
i always liked this beyonce song,
“save the hero”.
i think i mentioned that before.
the lyrics are a true testimony of my life.
you know the person who is always there for others,
acts like the super hero,
goes above and beyond to make sure they are okay,
keeps a great reputation,
but when the super hero goes home and takes their mask off…
who saves them?
i had someone who use to save me.
someone i felt comfortable to talk to and share myself with.
he has passed on and it has left me a complete mess.
my life is a fuckin mess.
do you still like me now?
i know people like living in a fantasy of others these days.
at least i have the balls to admit it.
a long piece ahead…