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12:18 p.m. - October 09, 2003
Dr. Indy is out-of-country until the end of October and I declined sessions with a practicing partner. The individual sessions are helpful, the group less so now that everybody around the table identifies as MSM, or a man who has sex with men. One suicide, two not-coming-back, and all I want is the golden key to - what? Too many things, I guess.

Thinking about last spring when those thoughts - ideations - of suicide transitioned from absurd to logical in a matter of weeks, and it just seems pointless to breathe, sometimes. I don't know what that means or what I'm saying, it's just that I've always thought life gets easier as you get older and here I am, running around with too much in my head and little else forming a foundation. The more accepting/happy/open I am with guys, the far more lonely I feel because I'm succeeding in disrupting everything I've believed in. I thought the hope was finding gay Christians and then learned there's two camps: The saints, like Andy, and the whores, like me. Either avenue is unfulfilling.

I miss people, not the ones who I laugh with, but the ones who know me and love me despite it all, and they are fewer than ever before. How is this happening?


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