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?