Looking Back: Part Two

Part Two

.Maybe I was that child, you know, the one not quite right. Honesty, I thought perhaps there was something wrong with me. Here I was having all these feelings toward other boys and now here I was having sex with the boy down the road. Yes, he was older, yes he initiated it, but I liked it, I wanted it to happen. I was not innocent, but I knew if my secret was discovered, I wouldn't have to worry about being locked in a hidden room somewhere upstairs, my fate would have been much worse. My memory would have been like the dust of the dirt blowing in the wind across the plowed fields. My name forbidden to flow across the tongues of loved ones. Many days and nights were filled with thoughts of shame, thoughts of fear. What was wrong with me? Why was I having these feelings? Why was it supposed to be wrong when it felt so right to be feel his touch against my skin? At the time, at that age, I had no answers.

Forewarned

Last chance, turn back before you get sucked into this post. If you continue, don't say you were not forewarned, don't say you were not given ample opportunity to leave. Proceed at your own risk!

Part One

Sometimes you have to look back in order to look forward. Sometimes you must remember how it all began, before you have any idea of how it should end. If you are a reader of mine, you know I share more of myself in what lies hidden between the lines rather than openly displaying it for the world to see. So if you dare to take this journey with me, let it begin.

It was the summer of my thirteenth year, actually, a few months shy of my fourteenth birthday when it happened. I knew long before then but it wasn't confirmed until that summer. Maybe some explaining is in order. What follows is from an earlier post of mine: I guess it comes from some of the earlier images and the realization I discovered from growing up in the tobacco fields of the South. In the early mornings, the leaves of the tobacco would be wet and sticky and all the boys would remain shirted, keeping on their shirts of long sleeves to keep the dirt and grim off, but later in the day, when the hot Southern sun came out, often times the shirts would come off. I guess, it was during this time I realized things were a little different. For some reason, I could not help myself from looking, there was something about seeing hot, muscled, half naked. country boys with sweat glistening off their bodies and it was "this" something that was causing "this" tingle I felt inside. Especially, the one boy that lived down the road, he was tall, lean, and had a light dusting of hair on his chest, but leading down from his navel it was thick and full, downward it grew, hidden from my view by his tight worn jeans.

Let's face it, let's be totally honest. Have you ever heard? If I knew then, what I know now, things would be different. Hell, I can't even say that. Maybe not so much in the beginning but before that summer was over, believe me, I knew. I lost my virginity, I had sex with the sixteen year old boy that lived down the road from me, and yes, I loved it. I loved having his warm wet mouth sliding down my shaft as much as I loved my warm wet mouth filled with his hardness. I still remember his hands. I loved his hands. Perhaps that is why, still to the day, I love a man's hands. Wait a minute, I'm getting carried away remembering when I should be asking myself this question. So if I knew it then, how is it I'm where I'm at today? Sitting in front of the computer screen, fingers resting on the keys, I'm thinking and for the life of me, I do not have an answer. I only know he was the first, he was my first love, to the extend of what an almost fourteen year old could possibly know about love. I do know it was a different place, a different time, certain things were not discussed, even at an early age it was something that remained secret, hidden away like a child not quite right in the head. Not talking about them (things) didn't make them go away, it just made one ashamed to have them. Perhaps I was the child not quite right, the child that should have been hidden away in the attic. To be continued. . .

Direction

Even with all the signs, we sometimes have trouble finding our way.

Treat or Treat

Happy Halloween

I Am a Survivor

What does not kill you only serves to make you stronger ---

I survived, I am stronger.

But, I feel like the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. Jumbled, mangled thoughts, are they revelations or hallucinations from the fever?

If I only had a brain. . .

A Gift

I have a dilemma, I don't know what to do, someone has given me a gift and I don't know whom to thank. I've narrowed it down to possibly two acquaintances that recently crossed my path but for the life of me can't figure out which one could have done it. Could it have been the cashier at the fast food restaurant the other day? It is very possible, now that I think about it, yes, the probability is high that it was her that gave it to me.
But, then it could have very well been the cashier at the local grocery store, I did stop in there later that day for a few items, and the probability that it was her ranks right on up there. Which one, when both is so deserving? One of them deserves to be thanked for this wonderful gift, it has not left my side since the moment it was given. I've taken it everywhere, it has been my constant companion for the last two days. I've tried to ignore it hoping it would get the message and go away. I've tried running away from it but it can run just as fast as I can which by the way isn't very fast at all. I throw my hands up, I give up, I accept it, even though I was unworthy of such a wonderful gift, I accept it. I accept the congestion, the stuffy nose, I accept the fever, the chills, the aching body, I accept it all, it is now my Cross to carry. But next time KEEP YOUR SICK ASS to the house, I do not need anymore gifts like this one.

Hold On To Your Seats

That's right folks, hold on to your seats. The Fat Lady is warming up. I've been on this roller coaster of highs and lows with more lows than highs long enough. I don't know what lies ahead only that along with the changing of the seasons there's going to be some changes coming in Stephen's life. Being totally honest, I don't know to what extend these changes will be, good or bad, agree or disagree, but there are some detours ahead. Stay tuned, "The Fat Lady" is taking the stage.

Revolving Door

The night before even though it was darker than a witch's cauldron when I closed out the world for the day everything seemed clear. My mind made up. But this morning when I look in the mirror, there is a stranger staring back at me, I look at the man and I no longer know him. The revolving door of Stephen's life. Do I get off on this side, do I get off on the other side, do I continue riding around and around in circles? Fuck who knows anymore.

Time For A Change?

The leaves are turning on the trees from their vibrant greens to various shades of yellow to rust browns as they fall from the branches. Their dried withered lives rustle in the wind. Maybe it is the change of the season but here lately I've been feeling much like one of these leaves. My outward life, stable, feet firmly planted, standing solid against the elements, let come what may, let the wind blow, this rock is grounded, this man is strong, a protector, a provider. But inside, there is another part of this man that is every bit one of these leaves. His (my) direction in life has been lost, hidden somewhere in all the darkness, this part of the man is being tossed hither and there by the forces of the approaching winter storms. Even blogging of late has been a lost direction, once what I could not wait to do, once what I had time to do has been falling by the wayside, becoming bare as the leafless tree. My first blogging anniversary passed a few days ago and the words of a sweet friend comes to mind, "The trick is now staying with it for another year, so many fall away from blogging after the 1st anniversary." words of wisdom and truth. I don't know where this man is going, the direction, my direction that I thought had been mapped out is no longer clear. Today my mind is crowded, I can not think, I have no direction. When I look inside, only one thing is clear, you my friends are my rock, my protector. Hugs and kisses, Stephen

Alternate Endings

Pull into the driveway. Stop! How many times have I told him, "Do not leave your bike in the driveway"? Get out, move little Tommy's bike for the hundredth time, get back in and finish parking. Tail waving in the air, tongue wagging from side to side Spot comes running. Good boy, gentle pat on dog's head. Opening door I yell, "Honey, I'm home. The Stepford Wife remake of June Cleaver comes from the kitchen, "Dinner will be ready in a second, Dear." Here is your martini and slippers, the evening paper is beside your chair, the kids are upstairs finishing their school work. I know, you're thinking, "What the Fuck" I know, I know, I know, my life is almost this perfect, so why, why, why, am I so not happy with it anymore. Why can't my life have an "Alternate Ending" like so many of the movies nowadays: Pull into the driveway. Stop! How many times have I told him, "Do not leave your bike in the driveway."? Get out, move little Tommy's bike for the hundredth time, get back in and finish parking. Tail waving in the air, tongue wagging from side to side Spot comes running. Good boy, gentle pat on dog's head. Opening door I yell, "Honey, I home. Coming from the kitchen, dressed only in an apron, I hear the words, "Dinner can wait, first things first." Taking me by the hand, leading me down the hall toward the bedroom is my "Ward Cleaver"

It's My Birthday!

It's My Birthday

Well, sort of anyway. One year ago, today I sat down in front of the computer screen and gave birth. Like a newborn baby it came into the world kicking and screaming. Struggling to stay inside, warm, safe and secure, it fought against the labor pains. Bring me my damn epidural now, I shouted. Wait! What was I thinking, was I crazy! Hell, if I had one of those, I wouldn't be able to feel my Dick! The computer screen stared back at me, like a doctor's face peering up from between outstretched legs, it waited. Push. . . Push. . . harder, damnit, I said Push, words echoed in my head, from having heard them from somewhere in the past. I wait, I stare at the screen, another contraction comes, I PUSH, it starts to crown, I Push harder, out pops some words, a sentence, a thought, it is out, I have given birth. Sucking in its first breath of air, my blog is born. I sit there staring at the words on the screen wondering what in the Hell was I going to do with it now? I hit publish . . .and the rest is history. This first year has been amazing, and it is because of my having met some wonderful friends along the way. You all know who you are, it goes without saying, you take the time to leave comments, you take the time to drop emails, you were there in the beginning, you have taken each step with me throughout this first year and I have no doubts you will be here for me at the end of this journey. From my heart to yours, I thank-you, I send you my love, Hugs and Kisses, Stephen

If It Makes You Smile, Mission Accomplished

If by chance, you have an extra one of these lying around somewhere, I really would like to borrow it.

I promise to take really good care of it.

A Day Off

Well, it is suppose to be a day off, but with all the work I brought home to do, I wonder if you can call it that. However, there is always a silver lining to all bad things, and my silver lining is that I'm able to put all this work aside to first do the important things in life, visit my blogging family. Although we haven't had the chance of meeting in real life (yet), you are my family, and in a way closer than the family I have in real life. I have been able to share with you the inner feelings, hopes and dreams that have been buried a lifetime, hidden inside the darkness of this closet, I call a mind. Looking Out From a Southern Closet is coming up on its first year anniversary and I never dreamt my path in this blogging journey would have crossed so many wonderful people. There are those, like myself still struggling with the chains of self-discovery and there are those that have broken free and living true to their self. We are diverse, we are the same, we are scattered to the fours corners of the earth, yet we are all connected. It is this connection that is the most valuable treasure I own.

Oh, My God!

Oh, My God, what have I done? Couldn't leave things alone, could I? Now look where its gotten me. Lost this. . . lost that . . . I feel a headache coming on.

Oh well. I can't worry about it today, there is always tomorrow. . .

**************************************

Well, it is now tomorrow and after changing the blog over to the new Blogger beta version I'm in the process of trying to get things back in working order. No shit, when they say you might lose some of the changes already made but did they tell me I would lose all my links. Somehow I missed reading that in the fine print. If I have missed adding you back please forgive me, it is going to take time getting everything back in order.

Lazy Day Holiday

By the power invested in me, me being Stephen, I declare this today of our Lord and Saviour as a Lazy Day Holiday. On this day, I will do as I please, I will do as much or as little as my heart and soul desires.

On this day, I will rise as early as I like or sleep the morning away, it is my day, to do as I wish. (It is embarrassing to say how late I did sleep)

I will not be available for the ringing phone, the world will be on its own. (Let it ring, I refuse to answer the damn thing. How many times are you going to call? Don't you get it, I'm not answering the phone, stop calling.)

I will not answer the door, even though the knocking of the door is incessant on my coming to it. ( Yes, I know you are knocking on my door. No, I'm not letting you in, I don't have any clothes on, besides I don't even know you and whatever you are selling, I don't want or need any. Now, go away!)

I will channel surf as much as I want. (click, click, click. . .well at least until the game comes on. The remote says, "Thank-God, its game time)

The game is over, the best of the day is over, and yes, maybe it was a do nothing day, but yeah, after all it was a Holiday.

How did you spent your day?

What A Day

Have you ever had one of those days where you know you should have stayed in bed? No getting up, just turning over and staying in bed with the covers pulled up over your head kind of days. That was what I should have done this morning. I only had to go into work for a few hours today but nothing I touched worked out, turned out, got accomplished. I turned right when I should have turned left, I dropped what I should have held onto, two left hands, blind in one eye and blurred vision with the other, the list is endless. In other words, if you don't know it, haven't realized it, failed to understand the words flowing from this confused mind, I have had a pissed-up day.

Truth

Tell me what'cha don't like about yourself. . .

The Screams

I have screamed until there is no longer anything left. No one hearing but me, the screeching, echoing sounds of the screams ringing in my ears, the relentless pounding has stopped. I welcome the silence.

Sometimes, if you are really, really lucky a love comes along that will change everything you have ever known before. I've heard it said, it only happens once in a lifetime, perhaps it is true, I do not know. I thought I knew what love was but not until he came along did I really, really know love. How it all happened, I guess I'll never know, I only know that it did. I knew him, he knew me, we were friends and knowing one another perhaps better than anyone else had something to do with it. We had been friends through goods times, we had been friends through bad times, maybe this had something to do with it, who knows, who cares, I only know it happened. Somehow, I gave all of me, not part, but all of me to him. I had never done this before, I have never done this since. Never had I ever shared or given away so much. Ok, I know what you're thinking, no I'm not talking about sexually giving myself to him, I'm talking about something deeper. I gave my heart to him. Without words he knew me, without words I knew him. At least, I thought I knew him. I knew his likes, his dislikes, I knew his laughter even when he wasn't in the room, I could even feel his presence when he was no where to be seen. You could look into his eyes and see his soul, his was a loving, caring soul, aged from having lived life, not from having lived years. This is how I knew him. I knew his happiness could feel a room, infecting all, I knew the pain of his sorrow, I had seen him bleed. I knew him, he knew me or so I thought.

But five years ago, the man I thought I knew, the man I thought held no secrets, had kept one from me. A secret so dark, so hidden, I wonder if he even knew he harbored such inside himself, until it was too late. Allowing myself to think about it, causes the screams to come alive again, they rip at my insides, tearing my flesh, my soul, my heart breaks into a million pieces.

What was he thinking, when he pulled the trigger?

How could I not have seen this coming? How could I not have known this was coming? I knew him! Why did he not tell me his burden was too much for him, he knew my shoulder was his. Why?

Lost

Is it this way? Or perhaps down this corridor, take a left, two doors down, then a right? Where is that damn EXIT sign? For the life of me, I can't seem to find my way out. To the outward world I know where I'm at, I know what I'm suppose to be doing. I'm surrounded by a world of people, their voices echoing in my ear, there is happiness, there is laughter but I am not a part of it. I am LOST.

For days, actually weeks now, I've found myself stumbling into darkness, running on auto-pilot. Remembering a memory of love discovered, felt, shared, remembering a memory of love lost is too painful, no more posting, no more sharing, at least for now. Years have come and gone, five in total but I guess the wound has not healed, today it is still bleeding. Where is the doctor when you need one. . .

Secret Room

A secret room, a locked room within my heart, guarded never before entered and somehow he had discovered it. My heart had betrayed me, revealing to him its secret. No one before him had ever ventured this far inside, I had never allowed it. Before I knew it, he had placed the key within the lock, the tumblers fell into place, the door unlocked, opened and inside he stepped. I don't know the moment it happened, only that it happened. I've tried many times to remember just when it happened but I honestly can't for the life of me, I only know that it happened. A feeling never known before, a feeling never felt before washed over me. I had fooled myself into believing I had felt it, known it, and had, rather was living it, but this was different, nothing compared, nothing before had prepared me for this. I had fell in love with my best friend.

Beating of my Heart

There I was telling myself that it happened. I thought it happened. I believed it happened. I even felt it happened, so I guess it did happen, at least to some degree. I already knew it had the capacity to give and share on different levels and here at this very moment, it was showing to me yet another one, a level never felt before, so I told myself, it happened.

I told myself this was the one.

But I was, a young man, almost sure of himself, giving his heart away, placing upon it no restrictions, I gave it freely. It gave its love, it shared its love, somehow there was more than enough for all that entered, each had their own place, safely and securely held within its beating walls. Years came and went, people came and went, but my love for them remained constant, always there. I held fast to the course laid now before me, never knowing my heart, the very heart that beat within the walls of my chest held a secret. This heart on mine that forced the very life sustaining blood through my veins held a secret.

Within it beating walls, behind a locked door, lay a room, never before opened, no one ever allowed to enter. Until, he came into my life. How did he know about this room, when I didn't? Where did he find the key, when I didn't know of its hiding place? What would happen if he ever opened the door?

(Stay tuned for the rest of the story)

Home Alone

The week of rushing from here to there, days of working from daylight to dark had come and gone. My busy week, maybe not forgotten was at least in the past. And now it was the night before Sunday and all through the house not a creature was stirring, I was "Home Alone."



Snuggled down in my lazy boy recliner, a bud light, some peanuts, and remote in hand, I was in a man's paradise. No idle chit chat, no home fires to deal with, peace and quiet straight ahead.

A few minutes here, a few minutes there, watching this, watching that, channel surfing the way only a man can do. But before I knew it, the room was filled with music, on the screen was a feast for the eyes, sweat glistening on a hairy chest, hips swaying to the music, I was hooked.





There was Tim, the channel surfing was over, the remote laid down, eyes glued to the big screen. It was just Tim and me. I was in a man's paradise.

If It Feels Right, Then Who Has The Right To Say Different

There was a fork in the road, along the path I walked and I chose the more traveled of the two. A path laid down by father to son many times before. Did I chose this path out of duty or did I chose this path out of fear? Perhaps, the answer will never be known or perhaps having been buried somewhere deep inside many years ago the answer has no importance anymore. But, if I knew then, what I know now, how different things would be, some things would be better and some things, well I can not allow myself to ever imagine not having in my life, but it is all water under the bridge. It is the path I now travel, some dreams not realized but lessons have been learned along the way. Do not make the same mistakes of the father, do not chose the more traveled path because it is what's expected, if the words your brain hears are not the words in your heart, do not listen, chose your own path, make it your own, not someone else's. Don't listen to those that tell you it is wrong, a sin, a damnation. The truth, your truth lies within you, listen to your heart, if it feels right to you, then it is right.

Time Flies

Seconds ticking away. . .

Wondering what happened. . .

Where has all the time gone?

No cares, No worries

Rush here, rush there, not enough time in the day to get everything accomplished. Rushing thoughts, swirling thoughts, all crowded inside, do this, do that, be here, be there, being pushed, being pulled in all directions. Asking myself, is this what I signed up for? If so, what was I thinking!

One more day I remind myself. Be strong, hold fast, I say. Tomorrow will come, there I will find the time to let go, let loose, clear the mind. Forbid the thoughts of a hectic life to invade the peace of having a day of solitude, of having a day with no cares, of having a day with no worries. Tomorrow!

A Peek Inside

You are a survivor, a little battered, a little bruised, wind tattered from the storm. A little glue, some duck tape, sticks and string holding you together. Not the same, changed for the worse or changed for the better, still not sure. Stronger, but ever so much more cautious. Those stealing glances, unseemingly quick looks, what is hid, what is shared? Observing and being observed. Wanting anonymity but yearning to be discovered. This is my blog.

Searching In The Darkness

Eight days of non stop working from daylight to dark with the exception of one day of rest has the body, has the mind, feeling empty, feeling void. Somewhere, something, someone, yet to be discovered, has to be. There has to be more. . .this can't be all there is.

Hallelujah

Lord a mercy, gosh almighty, thank goodness this week is over! It has been an ass kicker of a week. How busy, you ask? Well, let's just say I was busier than a product tester in a dildo factory, if you can imagine that. I know, I know, cry me a river, poor little thing, Stephen had to work this week. But thankfully it is over, I made it through to the other side and now I'm planning on enjoying the weekend. But before I got out and about, I did want to get a quick post in to let you guys know how much it means to me to have you all as friends. Love you guys. Have a good weekend.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time in a far away land there was born unto a man and a woman, a man child.


Wait a minute! Far away land?



Ok, well maybe not a far away land but it could have been. After all, it is my story, isn't it?

Actually, it was only a few miles as the crows flies but still none the less there I was taking my first breath of air. And, if I didn't know it then, I certainly knew it early on, there was something different about this man child. Something different but oh so wonderful at the same time. But that so wonderful feeling, that warm tingly feeling caused by the boy who lived down the dirt road from you was something you didn't talk about, at least not out loud.

Learning to Trust Again.

If I have not been deleted from your favorite's list and you are one of the few who happens to come by on occasion to read the words of Stephen, you know Stephen has been silent for weeks, so don't fall out of your chair to see a new post. First, let me say thank-you from the bottom of my heart for the ones that have loyally not given up on me, you know who you are, and I love you for it.

Never make the mistake of believing you are in control of your own life, your own destiny, if you share your secrets, your hopes, your dreams with anyone else. You know Stephen lives in a CLOSET, fuck that is obvious, just look at the title of the blog. There has only been one person in my life that knew Stephen perhaps better than Stephen knew himself and when he died a few years ago I never thought there would be anyone else I would openly share everything with. That was until several months ago and what began as a causal "Hello, nice to meet you." What turned into almost daily communications, an earning of my trust, my wanting a friend to talk with, share secrets, hopes, and dreams with, what began as an innocent email turned out to be a nightmare. I won't go into details here but it turned into a nightmare that almost made me never want to look at a computer ever again. I envy those of you that found the strength and courage to be true to yourselves and if it was only me to think of or consider, I would be shouting it from the courthouse square, but it will be on my terms and not someone else's. Life has lead me down this path and there is something inside me, something that makes this man, this father, continue on walking down it no matter what. It is what makes me who I am. It is up to me to find a balance to my happiness without sacrificing the happiness, the well being of anyone else but do I dare trust again?

Book of Stephen

The Book of Stephen:

A post began, deleted, began again, and still no words.

Where is Stephen in all this darkness.

Hump Day Love

I can't believe it. I'm in shock. All those days of working straight, with no end in sight are finally over! I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but it's true. I have a day off! A "Hump Day" off with nothing to hump, just my luck, but that's ok, I'm still loving it.

Pain to Pleasure

"Your quest to pleasure can not be reached without walking down the path of pain, little one," so said the wise man.

"Well, I've been walking down the path of pain for a few days now and the only thing I have to show for it is a tired and aching body," I said.

"Have faith, my child."

"Faith, you say?" Having kind of lost the faith along the way I wonder if he is as wise as they say. Here I have climbed to the top of this damn mountain only to be told, to have Faith! What kind of bull shit is this? Stephen says and thinks to himself.

"I see, you doubt my wisdom, little one."

Ok, I've just about had it! First he says, have faith, rolling my eyes I think to myself, same line, different Holy Man. And now for the second time, he has referred to me as little one. What is up with this? There is nothing little about me. Hell, I don't even refer to Stephen Jr. as little. Just my luck, a blind wise man! But I'll play along.

Doubt? Oh no, your Holiness, there is no doubt, why would there be any doubt?

"Close your eyes, my child, the road you seek is within. It is a long journey over high mountains and through deep valleys. Dark clouds and heavy rains will fall upon you. You will struggle, you will fall, your heart will bleed. Remember in finding, there was first a seeking, remember in reaching the end there must always be a beginning, to begin a journey there must be a first step. The sands of your hour glass has begun falling, your destiny, your journey . . . .

Yes, Yes, my destiny, my journey? Go on! Tell me more! What is this? Has Stephen become a believer?

Wise man glances at a bright shiny object glaring in the sunlight. "Sorry my child, your time is up! Perhaps, we will begin where we left off today, if that is ok? Your lunch break is over, time you got back to work!"

The Puppeteer

"Who do you think is pulling the strings here?" he ask.

"Well, I thought I was," came my reply.

There is a tug of the string and involuntarily my arm is almost jerked out of its socket.

"Well what do you think of that?" he ask.

"Hey, cut that out," I screamed.

"Cut that out? Cut that out, you say. Well you little ungrateful . . . without me you would be nothing but a pile of rags, bones, and fecal material. It is I that makes it possible for you to live, to eat, to breath and don't you ever forget that! I am the "Puppeteer of Work" now haul your sorry ass of of bed and get to work.

Searching

"Searching . . . searching for what?" he asked.

"If I knew, there would be no need to search," I say. I only know that it is out there, it is waiting.

"You're not making any sense, Stephen. I don't get you sometimes, I really think you were dropped on your head as a child.

Dropped on my head, huh? You really think that is what happened?

No answer comes back, only a shake of the head.

No matter, I think to myself. I know it is out there, it is waiting, I will find it.

Naked

As I walk down the corridor, my steps echoing on the tiled floor, I turn the corner and the echoing stops. Was this in the planning of the building upon its conception? A devised carpeted plan of quiet escape. I can see the door, it is within my grasp, my reach, it is my redeeming salvation, it is my door to freedom. Unable to control my feet, my pace quickens, there is an urgency for me to smell the freshness of the outside, an urgency to feel the air against my skin, the warmth of the sun against my face. My arm extends from my tired frame of an overworked body, hand touches the door, it turns, I push, I walk out into the world. The door shuts, I stand naked, free from all the stress, the headaches, the worries of this week.

Unfortunately

It is so unfortunate, I can not begin to tell you just how unfortunate it really is, beyond describable, beyond imaginable. I awoke this morning and he was gone, no where to be found. He was there last night, I'm sure of it. Lying in my arms as I drifted off to sleep, his body pressed against mine, I know he was there. My first thoughts were he had been abducted by aliens, whisked right out of the bed during the night. God only knows what they must be doing to him. Needle biopsies, probing and prodding his orifices, oh my! A voice screams in my head, "Stephen, get a hold of yourself, man!" Aliens, no way! "If anything, it is probably the second coming of Christ and your ass has been left behind." I lay there thinking to myself, what's the difference, aliens or second coming, either way he's gone and damnit I wasn't finished with him yet. Shaking my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from my still drowsy morning brain, trying to imagine how it all could have happened. How could someone have quietly slipped in and abducted him from my arms without me knowing? I hear something off in the distance. Oh no, screams of torture, screams of pain, I lay there motionless, still as a field mouse hiding from the farmer's cat, fearing they, the abductors, may be returning for me. Louder and louder the sound gets, my heart pounding in my chest, the sound gets closer and closer, a deafening ringing in my ears. Louder, closer, louder, closer, it's HERE, it's next to ME, I can feel it PRESENCE. I can't stand it any longer, I must see, I open my eyes, blinking once, twice, eyes focusing on the tormenter. BIG RED EYES in the shape of numbers stare at me, 4:30 AM! OMG, NO! Please GOD, it can't be! NOT THIS! Not another workday! Couldn't I have my orifices prodded instead?

Outside Looking In

There has always been this feeling I can not ever remember being without. A feeling of there being someone else, another person, another part of me, somehow perhaps, somehow maybe, a twin that never was conceived, never split apart, never came to be. Someone inside, knowing all there is to know about me, my desires, secrets never shared with anyone, my hopes, my dreams. How can it be that this person, this entity knows everything about me? How is it I'm finding myself on the outside looking in?