What are you waiting for? Who, if anyone, are you waiting for? Why are you waiting?
These are the kinds of questions that seem to have been plaguing me since…for as long as I can remember. I’ve always felt, since leaving high school, that I’ve been searching for something. Identity. Purpose. Answers. Anything. Something more.
Sometimes, I feel like I should really be past all this. I’m not old by any means, but I feel that by 25 we should have a good grasp on who we are, what life is about and what we want from it. I feel like I’m staring at a chalkboard just recently erased. I can see the smudges of all that was written before, but I can’t make anything from it.
Lately, it’s become more and more apparent that I’m having a hard time “fitting in”. Where do I belong? It all seems so juvenile; something we’d ask as kids moving up to high school and dealing with all the crazy hormones and emotions itching in our every fiber. It’s funny, I guess, that I never really had those kinds of troubles in school. I knew who my friends were. I knew the crowd I could hang with. I knew things. Everything was secure and familiar. God, I hate sounding like a whiny child. I guess that’s how I feel though, and I should own up to that, no matter how embarrassing or stupid it seems.
I’ve lost my train of thought, as I’m so apt to do. I’m feeling something, that I expressed earlier in a Tumblr post, that I just can’t put into words. It’s shades of grays and blues. It’s the sorrowful moan of a bow coming skillfully, and slowly over the strings of a violin. It’s being alone in a sea of a million people. It’s a vast, endless cast of stars and twinkling lights.
I just don’t seem to fit in anywhere. Everyone around me seems to be, to an extent, a personification of a stereotype. And shallow. And at an arms length.
I was told by a friend of mine that I’m not a “good gay”. She brought up the fact that Pride is next weekend and that she wanted to go. I told her I had never been. That’s when she (playfully?) accused me of being a bad gay. And that got me thinking.
If by me not being a “Good Gay” you mean I don’t mold myself into the sterotype, then yes. Yes, I’m a bad gay. I don’t watch Logo or any of it’s programming. (I hate reality TV, gay or straight.) I don’t have an over-attentiveness to fashion, or really care what exactly I look like upon leaving my house. I don’t spend hours preparing to go out. I don’t particularly like gay bars/clubs anymore. Been there, done that scene. It’s played out. I don’t like the music most gay guys blast. The lame, crappy pop shit just does nothing for me.
So when I’m around other gay guys, conversation usually stems around those kinds of things. Things I can’t relate to, because I just don’t like them. Most guys I’ve had an attraction to or dated seem to have some of those qualities I mentioned above, and that’s fine. We are who we are. I mean, I wouldn’t want to date someone just like me. Where’s the fun and experience in that?
Where am I even going with this? I’m just tired. I feel like I have no one I can really relate to or count on anymore. Someone who I can completely open up with and share all the quirky aspects of who I am.
My love for video games, anime and the written word. My love for Japanese horror movies. For Samurai films. Kung-Fu movies. Indie music. Rock and Roll. Classical. Sushi, Chinese, Japanese, Mexican and Italian Foods. Philosophical conversations about why we are here and where we are going.
I can’t type anymore. I’m done for tonight.
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