Não tenha medo, querido.

“Die Young” by Ke$ha

Can we talk about how amazing this song is? It has so much meaning for the stage my life is at right now. It makes me want to let go of any inhibitions I have and just have fun; the consequences can wait until after I’m done doing what I’m doing.

The lyric “while you’re here in my arms” gets to me though, especially after being coldly cut off by the Brazilian guy I dated. What a cur! I have a damn good personality, and it’s hard to find someone who’d contest that statement! If only he could’ve seen past my physical imperfections, we could be in a relationship just like the ones in movies. But no, he had to be a shallow bitch. Anyway, Ke$ha’s lyric gets to me because I still desperately want a moment like that, during which I could be holding someone in my arms. Alternatively, someone could be holding me in his arms (preferably).

Despite my desperation, the song still urges me to keep on living life to the fullest while I’m still young and able. I hate having these conflicted thoughts. That’s why I have you, my readers, to write to!

Stay prepped because I should be writing another post within the next month! After all, my birthday is on Tuesday, and that’d give me something to write about if things happen swimmingly!

I need a man in my life.

I don’t want to complain, but some romance and shenanigans would be very much appreciated right about now, even if just to make me feel better about myself and my life complete as it could be right now.

Thanks for reading.

Catharsis.

Last night, my two friends and I went out to see Ted and get frozen yogurt after. On the way from the movie theater to the frozen yogurt place, my friend asked me about my feelings, if there were any, about Stuart. I told him that I have a hard time discussing my feelings because I never open up to people. I made the point that people only open up to me, and I save their secrets for them, along the lines of a Swiss bank. They are deposited but never leave, only to be discussed with their owner. I ended up opening up to him and sharing my deepest, darkest feelings - about Stuart, about myself, and about the problems that I face almost every day. I admitted things that I had never previously told anyone. I mean absolutely anyone, not even my own parents! They wouldn’t understand anyway; when a child approaches his parents to tell them that he feels ugly, they would only tell him that he’s beautiful in his own way and that someone will find him attractive. Usually, a child is never imperfect in a parent’s eyes, so discussing this issue with a parent is a dead end. 

He was very supportive of me and was patient enough to listen to me complain about myself and my life. He told me that any guy would be lucky to be in a relationship with me. It would be the best situation for this mystery guy. He compared his past life to mine, and I feel like we built a new bridge in our friendship. Honestly, I have to say that I love that guy as much as my own family! He’ll be helpful in getting me out of this damn depressive funk in which I find myself entwined. Why can’t I just love myself? It’s because society pressures me to believe that I am ugly and unworthy. Actually, I have let it do that to me. I’ve recognized the problem, now I just have to correct it.

It felt good to open up and let out my true, uncensored feelings to someone. It was definitely more satisfying than writing on Tumblr! But because I’d like to keep you guys, my beloved followers, in the loop too, I’ve summarized the events of last night for you in this post. If you’ve read this far, thanks. I’m not looking for attention; rather, I just need an outlet for my frustrations. 

Stuart.

He’s my latest boy-toy. Actually, it hasn’t gotten that far yet; in fact, we’ve not met in person yet. But we will before I leave for college in August! I met him online, and he seems to be really sweet and genuine, a rarity. I love his brutal honesty and slight ignorance toward sushi. It’s honestly kind of cute how I could potentially have to expand his horizons in the food world. For those of you with dirty minds like mine, no pun was intended there. I’m scheduled to chat with him on the phone later tonight around 11. We’ll just say he penciled me in. Actually, no. It wasn’t even that exciting. We just agreed on a time in advance, but “penciled in” sounds more thought-provoking…

I haven’t seen very many pictures of him except for the ones he has on his online profile and the one he sent me in exchange for one of my own. All I know about him is that he lives in Arizona, not too far from Vegas, and that he’s a mix of Puerto Rican and Italian (the stereotypes may be working in my favor here). I quite enjoy how he keeps this air of mystery about him. It forces me to slow down and enjoy the ride - to not rush things. He won’t let me find him on Facebook yet just to reiterate this point. Our “relationship” will develop the old-fashioned way.

I’m excited to see where this goes!

As Promised.

I’ve been feeling really depressed lately, but I’m an Oscar-winning actor, so people don’t pick up on it. Anyway, continue reading if you actually want to know my inner psyche.

I came across various articles today about body image, self-esteem, and fat acceptance. I read them, and I noticed that I had some of the symptoms described in each. But I also found an article on depression, and I saw that a lot of my moods and actions were described almost to the tee. Scary. I’ve been wrestling with the idea that I could have clinical depression for a while already, but now I’m starting to accept the fact that’s probably more a reality than a theory.

I have a hard time forgetting about mistakes I’ve made in the past. I also have a horrible habit of brutally criticizing myself when I look in the mirror or do anything that could draw attention to me. I nap almost everyday for three hours because I always feel fatigued—a sign of depression.

You’ve read this a million times before on my blog, but I’m going to clarify the fact that I hate the way I look. I have almost no self-esteem. Lusting after beautiful men who appear on my Dashboard makes me hate myself even more. I want their bodies, their looks, their personalities, everything. It’s like I don’t want to be myself but someone else, so that I might feel good about myself.

When I look in the mirror, the only things that I think are potentially good-looking are my eyes. Outside of my face, I have little love for. I seriously see myself sometimes and listen to that cruel voice in my head say that I’m gross, fat, disgusting, incapable, lonely. So I tell myself I want a boyfriend, but how can I have a successful relationship if I can’t even love myself? I can’t even do that right!

The gay world has amplified my self-loathing. It seems as if I have to have washboard abs, perfect hair, a nice tan, and lots of money to have a happy life. In other words, I’ll die alone if I don’t meet the aforementioned requirements. At least one of you, if I even get any replies to this, will tell me that it’ll get better and that all I have to do is start losing weight. Do you know how hard it is to be motivated to do either of things with this much depression? This much self-hatred?

It hurts immensely to not have my parents’ understanding. I haven’t confronted them about this latest development in the sad tale of my life, but they see depression as weakness and inability to cope.

If you’ve read this far, thanks for reading. I’m going to need a lot of help to change my mindset, so I’m asking for your help. I don’t know what to tell you to do, and may not know how to help me, but I think I need someone here to foster positivity in my life. I’m sick of seeing rain clouds on the horizon—the things that have been keeping me from enjoying life.

It makes me more depressed to know that as I wallow right now in my own depression, my teenage years are flying by me and not waiting for me to catch up. In fact, my teenage years are almost over because I’ll be 20 next year! I won’t have the fun memories of high school experimentation, parties, road trips, driving myself places, and romance because I let this funk beat me and hold me back.

People have told me I’ve a warm personality, but I think that warmth won’t be unveiled until I fix my body image issues first. I don’t know what they see in me: I wouldn’t choose to be friends with myself. If you’ve read all the way to this last statement, thanks; maybe you’ll be the one to help me, since many others will have read half of this post and scrolled past it.

Release, and not in a sexual way…

My fingers are trembling on the keys as I type this post and my heart is beating a mile a minute. I’m not sweaty yet but I’ll get to that point in the very near future. This post will be near and dear to me. I know that I do not hold most of you, my followers, within my circle of close friends or even acquaintances. I don’t care anymore. I have arrived at the point of my teenage life at which I am comfortable posting this information on Tumblr for the public eye. So far, only three of my closest and most intimate friends know that which will no longer be a secret here on Tumblr. Two out of three of these friends have known since January of sophomore year, the third since April/May of junior year. This was not a decision, but in fact a congenital identity - not a choice. Please do not ask me when I “chose” to be this way or when I “changed.” I have always been the same person, just previously much too insecure in myself to divulge this segment of my life and persona. I, like millions of other teenagers around the world, am gay. Yes, I said it, and I’ll say it again: I am gay. Three words should not have to make such a difference, but in this still-liberalizing world, they do. For the duration of the time for which I have had my blog here on Tumblr, I have had to be careful as to what I post - the associated connotations, word choice, public perceptions, etc. I have grown tired of censoring my material on my own personal blog, this censorship stemming from fear of judgment. But as a new school year approaches, new opportunities await, and there is no point in hiding my true identity from others. Hiding will make me weaker and unable to cope with future, inevitable snide remarks and commentary. Being “out” will not only make me happier and feel more free but will also force me to become strong and confident in myself. Stop following my blog if you are now offended by me; you’ve always been welcome to do so. For those of you who remain my followers, I will know that either you are apathetic to this situation or that I have your support. Thank you. My fingers have stopped trembling and I now feel at peace. :)