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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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This forum is created by us, in part for us, and in greater part for the person who comes here to learn, to read, to see by example that it is possible to survive the awful self inflicted prison of his mind.
We, here, have been our own therapists, largely. We have survived by our own efforts, applied well or applied poorly. But we have survived.
The very fact that we have been through our own deepest pits of despair and come out the other side, that fact is evidence to these boys and the adults they become, and to a smaller number of girls, that survival is possible.
We, you and I, those who post here, have survived.
So what am I blethering on about.
This is my challenge to you.
Put something of yourself on the line here. Tell us about your blackest despair and how you came through it. Dare to make a total arse of yourself by revealing this to yourself, to us, and to the kids who need to see that they are not alone.
Think to yourself (oddly there is no-one else to think to) "What child have I helped today? What adult that the child became have I helped?"
No-one will ever thank you for doing it. You won't even know you've helped someone. But one kid may choose to live because of something you say. And that kid may help a couple of other kids.
Do it now, before you think too hard about it!
[Updated on: Wed, 21 October 2009 12:43]
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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I can't do what you ask, Timmy, because I have (thank God) never really been in the slough of despair - not even as a teenager. I never questioned my sexual orientation: it was just "me", just the way I am. Of course, what one does with that self-knowledge will differ from person to person. I became sexually withdrawn, aloof - and missed a couple of opportunities.
Society today is so different from what it was when I was a teenager that I am not sure that anyone today should learn from my experiences. If you are lucky enough to live in a liberal society - just be yourself and do what comes naturally. If you live in a repressive society the best advice I could give today would be to hold on until you are old enough to move somewhere where you can be yourself.
I know of two young men who used to visit here. Each of them has found his ideal partner. One of them is lucky enough to have really liberal parents who smoothed the way towards acceptance. The other hails from the depths of the American Bible Belt and met with strong resistance and grief at home and among erstwhile friends. But steadfast belief in himself has brought him and his partner to acceptance among those who love him. It is an amazing story and a beautiful story, but it is not mine to tell.
J F R
The paradox has often been noted that the United States, founded in secularism, is now the most religiose country in Christendom, while England, with an established church headed by its constitutional monarch, is among the least. (Richard Dawkins, 2006)
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I wish each would come back and tell his story. This is most assuredly the kind of thing I have in mind.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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"Tell us about your blackest despair and how you came through it."
When I think of my blackest despair, I think about the bout of unrequited love that I experienced during my late teens. But I wrote a story about that and Timmy put it on the Story Shelf here. But I can think of another type of despair I experienced long before I fell in love.
I never learned how to make friends or maintain friendships. I have vivid memories of hiding beneath the stairs in first grade, because I was afraid associate with the other kids. Even before that, I recall the terror I experienced when my older brother's friend decided to introduce me to a kid who was around my age; I hid and they found me.
As I advanced through primary school, I made some progress and can recall associating with 2 different people in grades 2-7. But all progress seemed to disappear with the advent of puberty.
All through high school, I was a loner. I liked guys, but I was terrified of them. I knew that I was gay and keeping that secret was the number 1 important thing about my life. I couldn't mention sex or join in a conversation about sex in the slightest way with any classmates, especially boys. Why? Because I was afraid they would see my insincerity when talking about girls. And I did not understand sports. Kids grew up in towns and learned these sports before high school. I grew up on a farm with no same-age playmate. So I was way behind on sports plus self conscious and fearful that if I played sports, I would do badly and then they would know I was queer.
So I went through high school without attending a single extra curricular event, without ever dating anyone, going to a party, without ever hanging out with a single friend. I would see boys who had become fast friends, and who would always hang around together, and I was envious of the closeness I perceived between them. I remember walking to the creek and fishing by myself, and being so lonely that I cried. That was a frequent occurrence.
I blamed my self-isolation on being raised in a very restrictive environment. I survived by courting the approval of my superiors, so that I could patch up my crumbling self image. It wasn't a good solution, but it held me together long enough that I made it through high school. Then, the summer that I graduated, barely 18, I left home and never took up residence there again.
That definitely helped, but I still suck at making friends. But that's OK now because my wife is my friend. She picked me out. She seemed to like me for what I was. It would still be nice to have a couple of close friends, but now it's a "nice to have" and not a necessity. I feel that there is a good chance that I might have a mental disorder somewhere on the Autism Spectrum. I've considered being professionally evaluated on that, but I can't think of a good enough excuse for expending the effort and the money.
And, yes, it's a bit scary to be evaluated. If it turns out that I have no developmental abnormalities, I'll lose a crutch to lean on. Then I'd have to blame my social incompetence on myself, my slough, my cowardice. One good thing though, I have never surrendered to self pity. I have always sought to have a solid logical explanation for why I am what I am.
So you see, I was fucked up when I was a child and I'm still fucked up. But that's OK, because I have had a lot of fun along the way and I foresee more fun down the road. I have accomplished all the really important goals that I have ever had. There is no longed-for uncompleted task in my life. And life is good. It's not perfect, nor will it ever be. But the way I see
it; we have but a short time to exist in this world. It would just be silly to cut that time short out of despair. We are alive for 70 or 80 years and we are dead for untold eons. So it behooves me to experience as much as we can while living and not to waste a single minute. I'll take the good with the bad. It beats nothing.
Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Those few words express a huge isolation. Fishing and crying...
You seem to be getting through it simply by getting through it. Do you have strategies that you use when you are alone in your head, in the place where the person you love cannot reach in and help?
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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I am one of those fortunates who have rarely had black periods. If I have they have been on rainy Saturday afternoons, usually but not necessarily in a foreign land. Saturday is Saturn's day, the black day.
My worst experiences go back to having to repeat a year at university, although that came good after the first term, and the thirty odd weeks of chemotherapy I had to undergo after my cancer operation and which thoroughly poisoned and ruined my body. Oddly it was also my most prolific period of writing.
I know I have helped people this week for they have come to my house seeking guidance and I hope I've provided it.
Basically I am a content person even though I have not always achieved the fulfilment I would have liked.
Hugs
N
[Updated on: Mon, 26 October 2009 08:27]
I dream of boys with big bulges in their trousers,
Never of girls with big bulges in their blouses.
…and look forward to meeting you in Cóito.
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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"Strategies...alone in my head...one you love can not help."
I have always had difficulty with accepting help. I drive my wife nuts that way.
People have good intentions, but trying to deal with people who are trying to help me seems to cause me more discomfort and stress.
Whenever I am down, I need time by myself to recover. I need logical thinking at those times. It might involve the problem at hand, or it could involve ruminating about Chaos Theory or the mechanism of consciousness. Sometimes it involves simply going away... A thouhgt-free time that I think might be akin to trancendental meditation.
I've spent a lifetime trying to be better in social settings. It's never really worked. It's a matter of not being able to, not one of lack of conviction, courage or effort. For instance, I've become quite comfortable at public speaking. I suck at it, because I feel no connection with my audience. But when called upon, I do my best at it.
Also, I have come to believe in better living through chemistry. Prozac helps.
I fear that there is not anything helpful to anyone in all this, but it's how I am and it's all I've got to offer.
Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Prozac, used to overcome a crisis of unmanageable proportions can certainly help. But it is a tool, like a crutch or a walking stick, that allows healing. It is not a more perpetual device like a wheelchair.
I think everyone at some time in their lives needs chemical help. The trick is knowing what it is for, what will be achieved and when it will be stopped. The exception to this is a condition like manic depression that may need constant management.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I also repeated a year at university. We must be twins! But I failed my degree, I think on purpose. I hope I never have to undergo chemotherapy.
I refused to be gay. I saw elswhere that, had you known you were, you woudl have gone for it. I know I did not dare, so I denied who and what I was, and thus hurt myself badly.
That sounds as though this is about me! It isn't. It's about us doing again what we do best - showing ourselves to others that they are both not alone, and make fewer mistakes than we did.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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... for the nature of my brother's obituary which I posted at APOS this past January.
What those many did not, and could not, understand was that my writing his obituary was cathartic, and in truth, a healing of wounds that had been festering for far too many years. I needed the closure that that particular obituary ultimately brought, although even I didn't know it at the time I wrote it.
My sister-in-law and his two daughters were each sent an e-Mail with links to this Forum, and that particular thread, at the time of its' posting; as they each will again be notified about this one.
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The dichotomy that was my brother, and the paradigm that defined his and mine relationship was simply a disaster waiting to happen; and happen it eventually did, but not before it had nearly cost me my life at mine own hand, and when that had failed, at my brother's.
A little history, is in order here:
My brother was what could be best described as being a "criminally abusive alcoholic". Something which had long been known to us, but would neither be ever formally recognized, nor acknowledged by the family. He should have been been charged and incarcerated because of his behaviour at the time of the failure of his first marriage 40-years ago; and failing that, definitely upon the failure of his second marriage for similar cause some 25-years later.
To my shame, my sister-in-law endured a living hell for some 15-years because I failed to recognize my brother for what he was (although I do now understand that our father and mother both had) and, time and time again, refused her aide even when she pleaded most earnestly for it. Moreover, so firm was I in the belief of the tales my brother had, for years it seemed, been telling me about her, that when she and my brother separated, I employed every available resource in my family's legal arsenal to limit her financially, entailing property and assets until their children's age-25, thus forcing her to continue to reside in the same neighbourhood where my brother would take up residence upon his moving out of their home under terms of the separation agreement, and guaranteeing my brother's continued access to his two daughters.
The year was 1997.
Seven years would pass before I would beg forgiveness from this noble lady for my transgression and errors in omission. A passage of time that would yield my surrendering a home of 35-years in the year 1999 to move into my brother's to take care of him at the incessant pleading of both his daughters; my awakening to the nature of his true self some six-months later; the failure of my business, and his destruction of what little of my self-esteem that remained by the year 2002; and his near success in driving me to suicide in 2003.
Let's talk about that suicide attempt.
It didn't transpire; although, save but for a few hours, it very nearly did. After almost four years of repeatedly cleaning up after my brother's drunken excesses, hiding them from his children and stage managing their visits to him during those periods when he was suitably able to receive guests, I was emotionally, and physically, spent. There was nothing left of me. The lights may have been on; but, there was nobody home.
I had stopped bathing, my clothing was in disarray, my rooms a shambles. Food held no attraction for me, with my quickly becoming under nourished and losing nearly 75-pounds. I began refusing all contact from anyone from my past. In essence, I had stopped caring, and had simply stopped living. I could see no purpose to my continued living, and commenced planning its' end.
Maximillion, Lucky and Sampson proved to be my brother's, and mine, undoing, and my salvation.
It was whilst penning, by hand, 'personal' notes to the necessary few, having finished final preparations for taking my own life (amongst these being, for the first time in weeks, my bathing, shaving and dressing in clean clothing; my organizing and setting aside the paperwork that would be needed after my passing, including but not limited to my will, powers-of-attorney, financial statements and undischarged debts and obligations) I suddenly came to the realization that I simply could not do this. What would become of Max and Lucky and Sammy?
I knew with a certainty, that upon my death, my brother would order that they be put down. There would be no court of appeal for them. My eldest son, Alan, was serving time in prison for his own drugged and alcohol fueled excesses, and couldn't be called upon to rescue them, and my youngest, Paul, would be days, if not a week or more, arriving from British Columbia, it then being late February and at the height of the pacific gales off the Alaskan pan-handle, with air-travel in and out of the Queen Charlotte's next to impossible and him therefore at the mercy of a willing tug-boat or fishing trawler to traverse to the mainland, and in either event his, likely arriving to far too late to save them.
To my children's credit, neither knew of the prevailing circumstances at the time of my near suicide; nor did business associates or social acquaintances. My children would most definitely have done something about it had they known; but my pride would never allow me to divulge to either what conditions living with my brother were truly like; they being told the same polite fiction I shared with anyone who asked.
Maximillion and Lucky and Sampson knew. My brother was terrified of them, especially Max and Sammy, and they alone, I realize now, were likely all that had stood between me and my brother, and my brother's already murdering me; and whilst I had then lived 4-years under constant threat of physical harm, it would be yet another year-and-a-half before my brother acted. Maximillion peacefully passed away that October of 2003 at age-21, following a brief illness, with Sammy suddenly following suit, at age 15 in July of 2004.
Sunday afternoon of Thanksgiving weekend, 2004, in the presence of two friends of his that had been invited to a dinner that I prepared for him and his guests, and when I had been asked by Philip, one of those guests, to come and join everyone at the dining-room table, my brother picked up a baseball bat and came at me in a drunken rage asserting his intention to murder me, raining upon all present a litany of excess detailing all my failings and my having been the cause of his marriage failure and the resultant alienation of his two daughters and his current living conditions.
Philip having caught my brother's arm, forestalling any further attempt upon my life, turned to me and said with finality "You don't live here any more. Go pack a bag and call a taxi. You and Lucky will come and live with me until you get yourself situated."
Live with Philip, Lucky and I did; for one month. I arranged storage for my belongings, and moved out of the country, leaving behind only a 1-800 number for my sister-in-law and Philip should it prove necessary for either to contact me regarding my brother or his family. I remained "in-exile" for one year, returning to Toronto, sub-rosa, when my eldest son was released from prison, with he and I setting up shop in Toronto's east-end without my brother's, or his family's knowledge. When I learned of financial difficulties Philip was having, and his own danger of losing his home, I invited Philip to come live with Alan and I, and he subsequently became my Business Manager, and the "public face" of the charitable endeavour my company had been operating for 15-years previously, and which I continued to operate not-with-standing my in effect no-longer being in business.
Lucky passed away in her sleep in May of 2008, at age 24. Somehow I like to think, and I sincerely want to believe, that she knew I was now going to be safe from my brother, and that any further troubles surrounding the inexplicable massive heart attack I suffered in 2005, and its' resultant blindness, were squarely behind me, and that it was time for her to move on.
Warren C. E. Austin
The Gay Deceiver
Toronto, Canada
[Updated on: Fri, 23 October 2009 07:53]
"... comme recherché qu'un délice callipygian"
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ray2x
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: April 2009
Messages: 429
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It's not a black part of my life, but certainly dark is descending as of recent. I am really really discovering how much I loved my first boyfriend and how we never made a concrete effort to become a couple. I can't see a way to express to him of my enduring love and maybe a way to reconnect with him. At least without destroying my marriage and family. I would not destroy what I have now. Reading of how young boys and young adult males are currently having wonderful relationships and marriages makes me feel left out of what I feel could have been a wonderful coupling between me and my love. A definite huge regret. It is a part of my being now.
I still love him.
Raymundo
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saben
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On fire! |
Registered: May 2003
Messages: 1537
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When I first realised I was gay at 16, turning 17, it was rough for me.
I had my religion to contend with. As well as worries of social pressure.
I came out to a couple of friends from real life over MSN. One of them told my first crush that I liked him. I had about a week where I kept thinking about suicide.
The first day I was kept from the brink by my school report arriving in the mail and me having done well. The second day was my birthday and I promised myself if it rained it'd be over. That afternoon I went to the house of the boy that was to become my first love. It did rain but after spending time with him I no longer cared.
The next few days continued to be rough. But I made it through.
I'd been feeling depressed over my sexuality for months but this was the culmination of it.
You never know when something will comes along and totally change your world. Kind of like Matt did for me. He made me feel good about liking guys instead of it being my dirty secret. I enjoyed being with him and realised that I was gay and that it felt good to be gay and to accept it.
It still took some time before I was entirely convinced. But I made it through.
The road ahead may look grim, but you don't know what's on the path. You can find the most unexpected things. Things that will change everything.
Look at this tree. I cannot make it blossom when it suits me nor make it bear fruit before its time [...] No matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.
Master Oogway
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Well, Timmy, I didn't 'do it now'. I thought about it. I've already told my story on here (maybe more than once!) and I don't want to bore people.
At the end of my first term at university I declared my love to him and he rejected me because he was straight (although I knew he had had at least a crush at school) and although he was very nice to me about it I was miserable.
Then I went up early in January to train for Torpids (the spring term bumping races) and the training regime was very hard and I was miserable and was being teased and encouraged by the college chaplain and eventually it got too much and I just gave in and went to bed with him. That was Sunday 29th January 1956. I continued to visit his bed for at least the following two years.
I've been ashamed of it ever since and I have been flattering myself that no-one at the time knew I was doing that. I wonder.
Since then I have learned that I could have found more congenial partners of my own age if I'd had any gaydar or any sense - but I didn't have - and in those days every gay boy was deeply in the closet. Almost the only 'out' person I met during my university days was one Jeremy Wolfenden.
I went to university with an open major scholarship and was expected to shine. That term I really went to pieces and failed the 'prelim' exam at the end of it and the college sentenced me to give up my scholars gown until I passed the prelim (which I barely did the following term).
But I never did find myself a loving partner during those three years at university. And I ended up with a third class degree. If I'd managed my love life better I could have done a lot better than that!
Love,
Anthony
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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Mundo, I think that maybe we underestimate what we have now. Bygone loves have an untarnishible allure to them. But statistically speaking, it's doubtful that those old loves would have withstood the test of time. The world was not receptive to same sex relationships in our time. Regardless of how we felt, we were young and naïve as to what it took to cultivate those relationships. In truth we will never live long enough to build the kind of relationships that we have with our wives. Our boys are just nice memories and I think that's how we can enjoy them best. Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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"That term I really went to pieces and failed the 'prelim' exam at the end of it and the college sentenced me to give up my scholars gown"
Anthony,
I can understand the feeling of being cheated when you spent your time with the old chaplain rather than with an unknown available peer. But I don't understand what made you fall to pieces after that. Did you have a bad thing going with Jeremy or something?
Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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No, Macky, I scarcely knew Jeremy and had no sexual contact with him. And I didn't feel cheated either. It was my choice (the chaplain's too - and by the way he wasn't *really* old: I think he was 33) and I never blamed anyone else. I just wished that I hadn't done that. I just lost a lot of self-respect.
If I'd had the sense to say to myself that I was gay and not to deny it then I might have made a sensible attempt to find someone I liked. But I didn't have that sense.
Whose fault was that? Mine, of course. No-one else.
Love,
Anthony
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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Self-respect is a terrible thing to lose. But you have lots of it now and rightly so! Thanks for your story. I've never heard it before. Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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This sounds to me as if you should write that letter to 16 year old you.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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ray2x
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: April 2009
Messages: 429
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Quite true. I do email my boyfriend of youth. It's so amazing how I can almost touch him. And I also remember the hurtful memories in which he did something mean or at one point hateful act to me. I really am grateful of our relationship though. He was a very caring guy when he was not high. He most of time treated me respectfully and with love. And certainly am very grateful of the present. I guess past relationships may have had no chance of surviving, especially as a child of the sixties and seventies.
There was a nice boy I had some great sex with while in college. I thought he could be a lover but he too did some mean and dangerous things (having unprotected sex with several guys in one day!). I was just becoming to fall romantically for him when he made his confession and we parted somewhat coldly. I often think about him and wonder how he is doing. He was a Mexican male like me and it was nice to find a kindred spirit. Very fortunately we both tested negative.
Raymundo
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Yes, Timmy, I agree that I should. I need to think about it some more, though. Maybe you found it easier than I think I will.
I think that if I give advice it should be about how to handle situations better. It'll be no good telling him what to do. And I am very doubtful about advice before its time - I mean if a guy hasn't woken up to sexual attraction then is it wise to broach that subject?
Love,
Anthony
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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The task is not easy. I wrote to a boy who was in serious denial with the news that he is really queer.
I think the letter should make the young person think hard. Telling him how things will go if he doesn't alter his course is interesting. And it is not a letter into the blue. The writing of mine made me think about myself.
[Updated on: Sun, 25 October 2009 20:39]
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Yes, Timmy. I would be writing to a boy who had only the smallest hints of his sexuality to be and who probably was far more anxious to conform than he should have been. It would be two years before he began to have lustful thoughts. But coming out was not an option when all homosexual acts were illegal. So you see the advice that one could give in those circumstances has to be hedged about to some extent.
I find it difficult.
I googled 'letter to self' and found some letters and a book just published which contains the Elton John letter. I found the Stephen Fry letter on the Guardian website. They are, none of them, as old as me and advice has to suit the age - or at least I think so if the whole exercise isn't just a bit of frippery.
Love,
Anthony
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I have given some thought to this thread and have concluded that I should not write anything. Not enough time has passed to be worth revisiting the trauma, and the ending is not happy enough to conclude very much other than "I am still here." Although there "here" is very different, and the "I" has changed almost beyond recognition.
It is now nine and a half years since my life "fell apart" as I turned 16. Thinking of my parallel self of 10 years ago, I am only glad that I never knew how much worse life was going to get in the next two or three years. I still think of the first three fifths of my life as much happier, overall, than the last two, for I had no knowledge of the horrors to come. Were I to write a letter to my 15 year-old self, the most honest prediction would be "it's all downhill from here", although I would try to put it a little more tactfully.
I might try, instead, writing a letter to my 35 year-old self, in the hope that he'll write back one day with more to offer.
David
[Updated on: Sun, 25 October 2009 23:52] |
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Dear Nigel aged sixteen and three-quarters
After some thought I think I am ready to give a limited foresight into your life. Too much would not be good for you.
After years of being a big fish in a small pond you will go through a bad patch when you go out into the wider world. Remember you are as good as anyone else and despite the efforts of many adults in our life to put us down you should stand up for yourself and let your voice be heard. Most importantly be pleasant to and about the people you meet. Yes, I know some of them are right tossers and we are not famed for our tolerance towards fools.
Later in life you will suffer some ill health which you will survive not only because of fine treatment, but because of fitness and a positive attitude. Look after your teeth. I learnt that too late in life and dentists' philosophy and treatment are much more enlightened these days..
Take every opportunity to gain experience. Never be bored - you can always find something interesting in anything if you try. Be outgoing. I learnt that too late in life as well.
And now I come to what you really want to know. You are in your own mind bi- curious and you are looking forward to marriage and a family. I am going to disillusion you now. You are gay! End of argument. Accept the fact and enjoy it. At school and university you will have ample chances to gain experience (experiment?) We are lucky to have attended such a gay tolerant school. I didn't take my chances. At college you will meet a beautiful and charming boy. He is yours for the taking. I didn't take him.
There is enough here for you to think about. I say again - grasp every opportunity. You will end up doing some exciting things.
Love and hugs
Nigel (When I'm sixty-four)
I dream of boys with big bulges in their trousers,
Never of girls with big bulges in their blouses.
…and look forward to meeting you in Cóito.
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I know how hard it is to write something simple. Looks like good advice to me.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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saben
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On fire! |
Registered: May 2003
Messages: 1537
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"I might try, instead, writing a letter to my 35 year-old self, in the hope that he'll write back one day with more to offer."
I like this idea.
Look at this tree. I cannot make it blossom when it suits me nor make it bear fruit before its time [...] No matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.
Master Oogway
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