What is it to be happy with your life? Is it who you are, who you've become, or what you wish to be? For me it seems an uphill battle to be happy with any of those. As I've realized before, my mind is split between coming out and staying like I am- a facade, an actor. Either way I can't change this part of me. It's a core aspect of who I am.
I sometimes really hate myself. I hate this life, I hate what I've done to myself. I wish I could have a different life, or somehow start from the beginning again. I can just do my best to fake being straight, and put my mind on a constant strain but can I really keep it up my whole life? And why is it that I have such an urge to not be free...and to even help in shackling myself?
Can I just stay here in the closet my whole life?
I don't want to come out, so maybe I don't have to ever come out. Maybe I could keep this going, have a boring relationship with a plain woman and go through life without really taking any risks. It's just I can't connect with people and I'm hollowing out. I can't stand having to accept my being gay. I want to run away from it as far as possible. What kind of cost could amount by not coming out? If I keep going in that direction I may actually kill myself. I used to play this tune when I was younger. I didn't know what it was about but I'm getting closer to its meaning these days.
My mind's getting pretty messed up. I'm to the point where, in mid laughter and seeming happiness, I'll go stone cold blank faced and have no clue what we were so happy about. The thoughts run through my head: "Oh right, that's not who I am. I'm not happy. I don't have a fun time". Really, what could possibly be funny? What could be so important? I'm disassociating to the point of delirium. Maybe I'm just so tired of being fake, but when that feeling hits me those thoughts and questions generalize to all of life and I become very depressed. I want to live but it would mean giving up the safety net of illusion, something I've learned to live with my whole life. I have to face this continuing deterioration every day and it makes me wonder if it's worth getting up.
Throughout my writings I've been back and forth between ecstatic confidence and suicidal depression. It never seems to stabilize or get better. I just keep moving on through the nights.
and yet...when I just wake up after a good dream, when the air breathes into my skin, when everything's right, and when my mind's not at war with itself: when I'm feeling alright... it's more than just a feeling.
One last question: Does life ever get better?