Looking Back: Part Seven

He was waiting, already knowing I would be looking for him, even before I knew it myself. I realize looking back, I was a victim, a willing victim perhaps, but none the less a victim of this married man. I probably wasn't his first, I know I wasn't his last but that is another story, for another day. From the night he knocked on my door, from the time I tasted his forbidden fruit, he knew I was his, he knew my teenage hunger would overcome the teachings of my father. Looking back at it from where I'm at now, looking back at it from who I am now, I know it should have never happened. But it happened, this teenage boy and this married man became secret lovers. He fulfilled a need in me that had only begun to awaken, I fulfilled in him a need he could not find at home. In the year, before my leaving, my whole life became a secret. I lived two lives, on the surface I was the typical teenage boy, below the surface, what did I care if my date put out or not, I'd drop her at home and afterwards pitch a perfect inning with my secret lover. What had I become? Who was using who? Still sitting on the pew Sunday after Sunday, with my now "secret lover" sitting across the aisle, I had long learned how to shut out the words of that fire and brimstone man in the pulpit, I refused to allow the words to enter my ears much less my mind. I had become a vessel of sin, I didn't even know if I remembered how to pray. Somewhere along the way, I had lost me.

Looking Back: Part Six

As a teenager struggling to find himself in all this right or wrong maze, the war against good and evil raged. I struggled with all the guilt, I kept it bottled up inside of me, it became a ticking time bomb and I suppose the married man was keeping his distance just in fear it might explode. I knew what others expected of me, I knew what I had been taught from the earliest age of recognition, I knew from sitting on that pew Sunday after Sunday what came from the "Good Book" but if it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? Why did I like it so? Surely, by liking it so much, I was dooming my soul to Hell, but like Adam in the "Garden of Eden," I had already tasted the forbidden fruit and it tasted good. I was a teenager with hormones, I was hungry and wanted another taste, the devil inside had won. Looking in the mirror one last time to make sure, looking past the face staring back at me, I was looking deeper, I was looking inside my soul. The Scarlet Letter had faded, the shame, the guilt gone, all that remained was the taste of his lips on mine, I was hungry for more. I was releasing the animal inside me, it was on the prowl, it's prey . . . a married man!

Looking Back: Part Five

For days nothing else entered my mind, there was no room for nothing else, I was replaying everything about that night. My mind was on constant rewind, searching every frame, looking for answers, but finding none. I secluded myself away from everyone, in the family, in fear they would know by just looking into my face what "I" had done. Looking in the mirror I was afraid, I would see on my forehead the letter "A" branded for all the world to see. In my mind it was of little consequence nothing visibly could be seen, inside, I was wearing my "Scarlet Letter," I had sex with a married man. A man that knew my family, he went to my church, sat across the aisle from us Sunday after Sunday with his family. The very hands that caressed my face, the hands that held my teenage cock, the hands that touched every part of my body were the same hands, that shook my Father's hands after Sunday service. I could not escape it, I would be doomed to Hell for what I had done. Up until this night I had led myself to believe my virginity had been lost to the boy that lived down the road, I soon found out I was still a naive teenager.


Nothing I had ever done before compared to what happened that night. Sure, the boy that lived down the road and I had played around but we were about the same age, both teenagers, both inexperienced. This man was not inexperienced, I learned what sex with two men was like that night. For the first time ever, I knew what it felt like to actually lie in another man's arms and have a man take me to places I had only imagined. Without being to graphic, I learned that night what it meant to give of my body to another. I thought, I knew everything but I soon learned, I knew nothing. That night he was the teacher, I was the pupil, and I was being home schooled.



He also gave of himself, it was his giving that I really liked. The first time he gave of himself, I learned how to be gentle, I learned of foreplay, the second time I discovered by looking into his face, as I, well, I learned there was no more need in foreplay. I knew looking into his face, his eyes, he was giving himself to me, but at the same time he was taking, the last remaining bit of innocence I had left. I started the night as a boy, I ended the night as a man.


Like I told you before, after this night I struggled for days with what happened, struggled with the guilt of letting it happen, struggled with the guilt of wanting it to happen again. I may have become a man that night but I was still one of those teenagers with on one to talk to, not even the man whose kiss still lingered on my lips. There was a war raging inside with how other's felt and with what I was feeling, it was a battle of good vs. evil, and I was discovering perhaps I was more of a devil than an angel. After all, I was a teenager, and I really liked looking into his face, as I, well . . .

Looking Back: Part Four

It was a Saturday night, it was late, I had been out with a few friends and had been home about a hour when I heard a faint knock on my bedroom door. Everyone at home was already fast asleep so I couldn't imagine who would be knocking on the door and besides it was the door that entered my bedroom from the back porch. When I opened the door, there he stood, his eyes looking into my eyes. For the life of me, I can't remember what I thought at the time, but I do recall him saying he had seen me in town that night riding around. I don't remember asking him if anything was wrong, I don't remember asking him to come in, but in he came. If fact, I don't remember hardly any words being said. It is hard to explain, somehow I knew what he was here for, I knew what he was doing, I wanted it to happen, I didn't want it to happen. What was I doing? What would happen if someone woke up? Honestly, those questions never entered my mind, I wasn't thinking. I never once thought of what the consequences would have been if we had been caught. I was a puppet, he was the puppeteer, I was there, but I had no control over what was happening. I was cold, I was numb, in my mind I knew everything happening but at the same time I knew nothing. What happened, happened, I could have stopped it, I didn't. The last thing I remember is him asking me if everything was alright, he took me into his arms, he kissed me, and left as quietly as he came. Remembering back, I think that was the first Sunday the family went to church missing one of its members. For days my mind was a whirl, searching, looking for answers but I could find none, there was only questions and more questions. How did he know my secret, if he knew, did others know? What happened? You crazy fool, you know what happened. The question is, Why did you let it happen? God, I had sex with a man twice my age, a man that went to church with my family, for Christ sakes he was married, he has a wife, and two children. God, I had sex with a man twice my age, a man that went to church with my family, for Christ sakes he was married, he has a wife, and two children. Over and over, I could think of nothing else. What had I done? What was going to happen now? What was wrong with me?

Looking Back: Part Three

During that summer I had two constant companions, one was the ever present fear of someone finding out my secret and the other was the boy that lived down the road. Although it wasn't 1942, I guess you could say, it was my "Summer of '42" the things I learned from that boy! We were friends, we shared a secret, but we grew older and things changed. He went away to school, married, and started a family. Over the years, our friendship remained, occasionally seeing one another when he came back home, but never repeating or talking about our Summer of 42, it was our secret, it remained our secret, until his death.

At home I was the model teenager, at school I was the model teenager, but I was a teenager with a secret, one that I kept to myself. I wish I could say there were many more boys after him, but I can't. Things happened along the way of growing up but never again with another man until my sixteenth year. Being sixteen, being older, came with more freedom, no curfew on the weekends applied other than for Sunday mornings.

No matter how late you stayed out on Saturday night, come Sunday morning everyone had to be ready for Sunday church as a family unit. This was a rule, a ritual that was not to be broken, could not be broken, would not be broken, DO YOU UNDERSTAND! Every Sunday morning come rain or shine we marched into church as a family sitting on the same pew year after year. Sitting across the aisle Sunday after Sunday was this man that always caught my eye. It wasn't like he was some stranger or something, I had known him my entire life and actually looked forward to going to church just to see him. Sometimes during the service my eyes would drift away from the man spewing out words of fire and brimstone and wander over to this man sitting across the church, sometimes his eyes caught my eyes, something that always made me wonder about. Until.

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?