Growing up Gay. Scars that turn into Spikes.

The younger years of our lives shape our neural pathways, and influence our behavior and attitudes for the rest of our lives. A renowned psychiatrist once said: "give me a boy at 7 and Ill give you the man at 47"  Your personality is strongly set from an early age and our experiences and upbringing leave indelible marks on our psyche forever.

Sometimes when i'm alone laying in bed I think about the choices I've made, a snide remark here, a mean look there, A cruel outburst on an unsuspecting service worker.Whatever the reason I usually regret it. The Machiavellian plotting I've done, or the backhanded compliments I've given all come rushing back to me reminding me what a bitch I am. I hate it.

Sometimes exploring the inner machinations that drive our own actions takes us to places in the past or theoretical events in our future. For me it's always the same two places. One of them in days gone by, the other at a point in my distant future.

Sometime in September of 2002-- Exit the bus, enter the building. Scan the hallway for important things: overt threats, escape routes, and access to help. Continue to homeroom, look back: Scan again for concealed threats, anyone that looks innocent is probably part of a scheme to humiliate or hurt you. The usual culprits are given first priority, place distance between yourself and them. Anyone you don't recognize can be analyzed later.


Sometime in the 2050s--Relaxing on the front porch of a small home deep in the country, watching the sunset. The dogs play in the grass chasing one another. Look next to you:  An empty chair.


Sometimes I hate everyone. I hate everyone that looks at me the wrong way, their tone of voice is off. Are they trying to ridicule me like they did? Do they think I'm  a piece of fag trash? I will show them.This bitter anger towards the world eats through me like a bubbling, toxic, caustic solution.

 It seeps out of me when I sleep and washes over my eyes. I wake up to ash and dust, breath in the chemicals. Turn on the news: it  looks like the apocalypse is imminent. Concentration camps, experiments against humanity, I bet I'll wind up in a gas chamber before too long. Sip my chemical brew of coffee, the titanium dioxide and tetrazine 102 seep into my cells. Heat up some toast, the genetically modified strands of wheat DNA bind to and sabotage my cellular structures effectively securing my chance of getting cancer someday.

Pulling into the parking garage at the debt trap that is college. That bitch walking down the stairs in front of me is the same cunt who cut me off earlier in traffic. She's fat. Honking wasn't enough. She needs punished. Let her know she is a rude bitch of a woman. Call her out on her disgusting physique. Ruin her morning.

Suffer through a class I hate. I'm paying for this? This windbag of a professor is a foreign piece of trash, he goes home and laughs at me. I'm becoming an indentured wage slave and my borrowed money goes into his pocket.

Get home, resent my mother for not being supportive. Retreat into my room, think about all the ways the world could end, worry about earthquakes, and home invasions. Delude myself into thinking I'm justified in my outlook on life.

Lay in bed at night and hate myself for not appreciating the great life I have.

Each day follows a similar blueprint.

Breaking this cycle sometimes seems impossible.Its like bleaching the brain, rewiring the neural patterns that have etched their way through my cortex for years.

I need to break the cycle. I pray that one day I'll be free. I wont be the little gay boy looking for an escape from the bullies or plotting his revenge. I'll get there, I hope I don't lose the people I care about in the meantime. The scars have turned into spikes and I need to remove them.