Tag Archives: sexual identity crisis

Once Upon a Time in Durham

Posted on by Standard 29
Rape

Rape (Photo credit: Valeri Pizhanski)

Kids are resilient I had been told by a professor.  That professor had turned out to be my mother.

Like HOW?  I begged to know.  Duh,definition, please?

The definition Ambien Grace had been simple.  So basic, I even figured it out my senior year.

The rape that went under the rug.  The campus security begging to go and nail the bastard.  That same professor who talked to me with such resiliently kind words.  That same mother who spoke of injustices in the world.  That woman who had been my role model silently begging for my pleas of ‘I”m okay.  Don’t worry.  It was my fault anyway.’

Now though, TWITTER and UNH have combined forces to show women in blackouts.  Mother Theresa what about now?  Has my silence helped?  How ’bout Stone Church?  A quiet, ‘take me I”m yours for the night’ club, had my blackouts then just been promo’s to things to come?

A wise woman once said,

‘just because people want to control you and make you feel like you have no use…Does not mean those people have a right to!’

My nurtured and environmental home-grown response:

Its like i have to do something to hurt….

Being called stupid?  There is a built in response to that:

anyone asking if I can read brings up the worst memories…it gets to a point where its embarrassing..

I know im only 22 but ive been waiting for the one woman who can make me happy by being with them instead of just wanting to be left alone. who can deal with the mood swings and not leave even though I know I’m hard to handle…And,  I want a kitty and a mastiff and a house with a wrap around porch!  Oh and one of the kitties has to be named ‘miss kitty fantasitico’
And, most importantly,  I want to Skpye so if you want a 22-year-old for a girlfriend..you have to be able to stomach me masturbating myself to sleep.
Buffy the vampire slayer…my absolute favorite show everrrr needs to be on DVR.  And, I love to show off my ass..when I wear short-shorts.   I ask Mum for her opinion but she just says, ‘it’s too bad…I couldn’t see it..wear something else.’

UNH; applications being accepted for fall term.  No sobriety test required!  Blacking Out a must.  Parent or relative on staff to put out the fires a plus!
..

Sweet Little Lies

Posted on by Standard Respond
English: No Homophobia logo

English: No Homophobia logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I hate the closet.  I like the attic, sometimes, but it reminds me of a big closet.  Lying to me about whom and what I am is the most disrespectful thing I can do to myself.  Lies are closets dressed up with words.

I perform the act of deceit hourly with Mother Theresa.  I look out to the street below.  I watch as people jog in and out of the park.  It is all so manual.  I get up early, I text Zoey, I tell her my woes.  I attempt to do some photography online.  I go downstairs and eat.  Sit down, turn the TV on , eat, text and avoid the facts.

As the summer passed into fall, fall into winter, relationships came and went; the lies became part of the history that is Ambien Grace and Mother Theresa.

Ambien’s Top Ten lists of Lies:

1. How was your golf game today Ambien?  Mother Theresa would ask.  Giving no mention to the fact that I hadn’t picked up a club in a year or so.  What was I supposed to say ‘great and oh ya. My girlfriend got me completely soaked and did nothing about it…so my game was way off. I was dripping wet!  Thanks for asking Mum!’

Instead, the lie comes out of the closet; Zoey is learning slowly, she’ll get it one of these days.  Zoey had been my walking and talking lie.

2. Working doubles, sometimes, triples at work had been a handy lie.  Yet, it kept me out of the closet for the day.  Yo, Mother Theresa, guess what, if I had been at work, most likely I was screwing some unsuspecting employee in the Grooming room.

3.  Photography is a great avoidance of the truth.  The wedding photos that took months to finish…Not true, could have had them done; yup, you guessed it, I was busy having sex on a public beach.

4.  Taking my meds, not taking my meds.

5.  Cutting, mutilating and crying.

6.  Going to a friend’s house

7.  Drinking

8.  Being engaged to a married woman.

9.  The nights at Bianca’s?  No, I had actually rented a hotel room for my psycho-bitch girlfriend and I.  We had sex for eight hours straight.

10.    Life, Mum, I lie to you about life and here is why:

I don’t like being kept in a closet.  My photos and photo projects that you, Theresa, bestow on me would have been done a long time ago but I put it off to see women.

I lied to my Mum of my whereabouts, snuck around the kennel just to get a simple kiss from someone.  I lie about that to this day.

The repercussions of not lying to Mother Theresa, linguist and elitist extraordinaire are endless like the dirty laundry that forms piles on my hardwood floor.

“If SHE found out…SHE’D probably kick me out and I have nowhere to go and I’d be screwed!”

When I masturbated I could get the anger out!  What I cut I could get the anger out!  When I sit and text and sit and text and cry; the anger remains in my heartless heart.

Lying isn’t anything compared to the incarceration of homophobia.

Emotional Baggage Carrier Wanted

Posted on by Standard Respond
Georgia O'Keefe

Georgia O’Keefe (Photo credit: Martin Beek)

Don't Leave Em Hangin

Mother Theresa and I went clothes shopping not too long ago. I actually picked out my very first pair of ‘work boots’ and paid for them out of my own pocket.  Take that world, I am an adult at 22 and can manage a bank account.  I have the shoes and a Car hart jacket I purchased online and I did it all by myself!

Honestly, I would have let Theresa pay but she wouldn’t have for obvious reasons; work boots and work jackets are the international symbols for LESBIAN!

Driving up past Pleasant Street, turning down onto Auburn, out the window I caught a glimpse of Penny.  Shit, no, it can’t be Penny, that whore is back in Tyler, Texas, where I left her.  The chic by our house must just be passing by with her paint a billboard on it ass and clothes of unnatural earth tones.

I smirk to myself and Theresa catches on to my good mood,

“Ambien, what’s wrong with you?  You didn’t like any of the bras I bought you, slouched the whole time in the store but now you’re smiling?”

I lie and say, “Just happy to be with you MUM.”

Inside though, the tape recorder is playing and the scene is set:

All, or at least some, of my Ex’s live in Texas!

Penny had texted me in this scene, it is an all too familiar scene, she is not gay and I am not gay, but we found friendship in our mutual respect for drinking stupidity and ignorance to the plight of being homosexual.

“Ok Ambien. If that’s what you want to believe. Right on. I’ll talk to you later, sorry but I’m not in the best of moods to have this conversation. ” Penny :( ( I can’t handle this anymore!

.. She had just contacted me that afternoon bitching about a girl who was talking about her sex life…meaning, Penny slept with some guy.  I’m good at reading between the lines.

We had a shitty relationship when we’re apart but when we’re together it was amazing, the sex sucked though!  Can win for losing!

Just as Theresa puts the car in park and rolls up to the side of our several more than fifteen room house, garden nestled in and majestically white all over, she says, “Ambien, I know we talk about it all the time but just what are you planning to do with your life?”

I knew what I had planned on doing up until recently.

-i dont know where ill do grad school/texted to Kate, another girlfriend, from me. 

*I think the English needs a little work before I bang out any exams for Grad school.  Tru Dat!

Next text went like this:

-im looking at nyc or texas …but i want texas for the wrong reasons.

*Maybe I should have been an English major.  I do believe I missed my calling.

In ending, Kate had said life is too short to not follow your love.

I had followed up with a text after attempting to understand that deep thought:

-i just want to be at UT Austin: 4 hrs from Penny and great city.  She’ll figure out the sex thing eventually. I know we’ll have our time someday, I hope!

Theresa hates her though she’s never met her.  Hates her because she cheated on me!  Guess what Mother Theresa, I cheated on her!  The lies I have fed Theresa are endless.

Penny had been a get back at another girlfriend whose name I cannot remember.  Kate had been, a get back at Penny, girlfriend.  All girlfriends have been a get back at someone else mistake.

I hear from Penny, every now and then, when she is lonely and needs me to fill her ego.  It always ends up the same:

“You were never a backup Ambien. When I slept with Tyler I thought about you. Yes I know that’s shitty but you were still on my mind. I told you before it just happened. I’m not goin to have this conversation with you. If you want to bash me, go ahead you have every right. I won’t say anything back. If you need to get it out of your system, go right on ahead. But I refuse to argue with you. “- Penny

A good reason why I drank so much was because of her.  A good reason why I did drugs was because of my mother.  A good reason why I am in the attic still and mostly likely will die there with my boredom and sexual deviation is because of Kate.

Shit, fuck, why is it these women are attacking me?  Don’t they know who I am?  I am FINE!  Fucked UP, Insecure, neurotic and emotional.

Yes I am

Posted on by Standard Respond
Your Little Secret

Your Little Secret (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In a moment’s haste…Ambien Grace discovers that not only is Melissa Etheridge gay but so are a whole bunch of others!

When the darkness and answers are thin
Lovers come and check out in a hurry
Shallow and hollow again
Come lay your body beside me
To dream to sleep with the lamb
To the question your eyes seem to send

Yes, I am, Mother or at least, I want to be,
Ambien

Volunteer to be a Lesbian

Posted on by Standard 2
English: AmeriCorps logo

English: AmeriCorps logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This pass Christmas I had gently suggested to Mother Theresa and Father Floyd that I wanted to help those less fortunate. That I sincerely felt the need to make an amends to the world and in return I could remain ignorant to the plight of things. In other words, I knew and know I’m not bright but at least I can slop food on a plate! Shit, I even give the poor guy down at Hannaford’s at quarter. You know the type, homeless, male, veteran of some conflict, carrying a sign: Homeless, Hungry, and Please Help!
Mother suggests that I shouldn’t encourage ‘those people to not get a job’ by offering pocket change. Her reaction to the whole Ambien on Soup Kitchen duty?
“You’re just trying to avoid us as a family! Why do you want to do something now? You never cared before. I know exactly what it is, it’s those friends of yours. Degenerates that are below you! Don’t you love me anymore?”
We all know that the love statement isn’t true. My mother is my longest still standing girlfriend with benefits. We have an unnatural, natural kind of love.
Joining the Peace Corp had been out of the question for some time, they don’t take on volunteers that have more emotional issues than those that are being helped.
AmeriCorps might have been something and so this was my thinking:
I’m on a waitlist for a fucking email to accept or decline and if I accept I go to the next process and I can still be declined.
I probably won’t even get in now because nobody can get jobs so they apply to Peace Corps and AmeriCorps. And, I know that finding someone to fill my prescriptions no matter where I’m placed, won’t happen. I’ll just have to stop taking them!
AmeriCorps was my way out, I had been slated to leave in February, that month is gone and I’m still in my fucking parent’s attic. Almost 23 and I can’t get out of the closet.
Concord, New Hampshire is the worse place to be if you’re in the depth of confusion over your sexual identity. No clubs, no lesbians to choose from, other than plaid flannel lumberjack dykes.
Graduate school still might be the answer but how far does one want to go with a Fine Arts degree? Particularly if there is no acknowledged suffering shining through in my photography.
Oh yeah, there is that loser Master’s Degree incentive and this fact:
‘ and I shouldnt have broughten it up’: this was my English before college. And, this was my English after: ‘i dont want to ruin the perfection of my vagina.’