No leaf clover, sad but true

Sex is a powerful thing. I remember as a kid meeting my first best friend for a first time in first grade (that's a lot of firsts) and immediately feeling attracted. Sexually. Since then, sex played a big part in my thoughts and actions. It was a driving force, the strength of which was only matched by my love for video games.

But I digress.

I've been quite involved and at times sexually intimate with many people since that first day in first grade. I've done everything except actual intercourse, so I'm still (technically) a virgin. That kind of gives me pause though-- thus I use the term virgin loosely. In each situation, what drove me was sex. Lust. The desire to satisfy my urges. Urges that I didn't understand until long after I'd started down this path, leaving a trail of brokenness behind me and within me. And why should this be? I've prayed so often for God to heal these people I've affected and hurt in ways I cannot imagine. I prayed for Him to save these people from me. To save me from myself.

When you're in the moment, your libido kicks in. Your mind gets cloudy, and all you can see and feel is the animal instinct. Everything becomes raw and carnal and unrelenting almost undeniable. Giving in to sex is like standing at the entrance of a long dark tunnel. Once you enter you just keep running, and as you go deeper it gets darker, and all you want is to burst out the other side. To reach the endpoint.

And when you do come out the other side, you realize that all that's there is darkness. And guilt. And pain. And shame.

And you'd think with all you go through, it'd be easier (and prudent) to avoid the next tunnel. But when you come to it, it almost calls to you. You're curious, you're intrigued, you're weak. Then the sexual dark inside you takes hold and drags you toward the entrance. You resist, but try as you might, sometimes it's too strong.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you isn't fighting as hard as you should. The part that wants it. The part that wants to embrace the darkness of the tunnel again. The part that locks the door at night so no one will see. The part that whispers in your ear and tells you it's fine and speaks sweet little excuses and justifications to you. And when you turn to look at the small dark voice, the demon on your shoulder, the devil's advocate, all you see...

...is yourself.

Hindsight

I've been thinking back to my early days, prying apart the stifled memories and clouded thoughts I buried so long ago because I never wanted to remember. It was always easier to forget.

But I'm remembering things from my early childhood. I remember attractions that had been relegated to the dark recesses of my mind. I vividly remember being six years old, and meeting my future best friend for the first time, and immediately thinking, "Wow, he's cute." He would be the object of my attraction for the next 2 years. I'd wanted to be around him and harboured strong emotions, the depth of which shocked and confused me. As the years progressed, I experienced things a kid should never experience. So much so that I did not enjoy a lot of my childhood.

It all makes me wonder. At which point did I become gay? I reject the idea of being born gay, as that would mean God created me to be gay, and I wholeheartedly deny that idea. But to have been six years old and attracted to another boy in a manner beyond the platonic? Perhaps sexual curiosity at that age is natural sometimes?

I can't help but wonder what would my life would be like now if I hadn't gone down those paths...

Anyhoo, I've spruced up the blog a bit. Also gave the links list a much-needed pictorial makeover. Neat, yes? Oh, and here's a really cute video. I guarantee it.

The cycle

It's beginning again.

That old familiar tugging. Everytime I see him. Inside, my heart is stirring once more. I know that, slowly but surely, I am falling for him. I know that as I see him more and more and hang around him more and more, I will soon start to love him. And love makes me do stupid things. Love makes one yearn. And yearning can really suck sometimes.

I'm tired. Tired of struggling with it. Tired of always trying to fight it. Tired of the temptation. Tired of the guilt of loving someone I'm not supposed to love. At least, not like that.

I'm tired of this cycle. Meeting someone, falling for him, loving him, having to push the love deep inside and stifle it, having it eventually plateau and calm as the years pass, and then meeting someone else and having the whole thing start again.

There is this itch inside that I cannot scratch. An insistent burning within that I cannot quench by myself. I want to LOVE. But there is nowhere for this love to go. How does one love when love is not allowed? How does one express a love that, without expression, eats away at you because you constantly hold it inside without letting it breathe?

God, if it be Your will, take this love from me. I don't wanna do it anymore. It hurts too much.