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12:43 p.m. - June 13, 2003
Does this mean I've come out to myself?
Itís a conflagration of loyalties: Loyalty to myself, my friends, my family, loyalty to my aspirations and hopes, loyalty to that essence that is me, the one distorted by the competing ideologies of protection and disinterest, nonchalance and distance, the ones chanting mantras, self-serving litanies of Donít do that, beware, danger, watch out, donít open up, donít get close, donít give anybody a chance to hurt you. Competing loyalties, competing ideologies, an upset in the chain of being, the reversal of Manichean tautology. Regardless of origin, those ideologies serve a purpose and function wholly independent from self-loyalty and somewhere along the path, the ideologies subverted loyalty and have prevailed, thus the genesis of my restless indecision and unhappiness.

I thought about loyalty and ideology this morning. I had one of those dreams I hate and dread, woke up when my face was being shaved with a rusty razor and the sensation of my skin catching between the blades was enough. The tactics Iíve learned to control my reactions to these dreams and occasional flashbacks donít always work and this morning they didnít; I got up and paced around my room, thinking of what to do. I was afraid to leave my room, was panicking, was afraid in a way Iíll never be able to describe other than mention my heart palpitates and races enough so that I fear a heart attack and my breathing becomes erratic. The fall-back tactic Iíve adopted is to sit against the wall and wait until itís light out because as you know, scary things follow rules as well, or I lay in bed and I do the affirmations that I deny doing because Iím embarrassed. This morning I sat in my bed and deliberated why the hell my life is like this, why itís deteriorated these past four or five years in a steady acceleration towards the inevitable entropy. And sitting there I asked myself Whoís in charge here? Me, or something else? and in response I dressed, left my room, and went outside in the dark willing any and all phantasms and bogey-men to come my way. You know the rest: Nothing materialized, nothing occluded my walk, nothing happened. Nothing at all. And oddly, it was not a relief, more a placid cognizance: Of course not.

It isnít a question pitting Loyalty and Ideology center ring. It is true, John, that I am not passionate in describing my relationships with women. I love women in the stolid pursuit of normalcy, love being in love, love that is steadfast and warm and often lasts, but it is not love that burns and consumes. For good or ill, that love I had for Spec burned and consumed and honestly, how can I deny the difference? Iíve never denied, simply refused to acknowledge. I prefer to be loyal to myself. I count. I may not be attractive or as intelligent or social or confident and outgoing as I wish I were but the qualities I do possess shouldnít be discounted: Iím honest, Iím compassionate, I work hard, Iím diligent, sometimes funny. And were I loyal to myself, Iíd be friendly and open, form relationships with people, show others my private places and thoughts, be comfortable in taking risks and riding the waves of success and failure, and always remain in motion, growing and expanding. Itís doable. Loyalty to myself seems foreign, Iím out of practice.

I am a 27 year old gay man.

That felt good.


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