People waiting for me to leave a closet that I never was in or Tell me why are you not Fucking...

*The following is a satirical view of things that have been said to me, a collection if you will. Names and identities have been removed to protect the identities of individuals as well-meaning as some are, really have to fucking business in what they are asking. Enjoy and if you see yourself here.....yea.....can you stop that shit. Just an idea*


Hmmm.....how to start this one. This one is going to be fun, but I realize you only have one introduction and as many ways as I can start this I can not help to think I have to choose one.

So here we go.

*coughs*

People are really interested in me fucking. They really want to know who I am fucking. I mean, they want to know details. They want to meet people who I have fucked. They want to know outside of graphic details for some, or at least I think they don't want to pry that much, on who I'm fucking. I mean, people fuck and they fuck at a suitable frequency that they want to know you are fucking. I mean, if I was fucking TOO MUCH or what I like to call My Twenties,  then that would be too much fucking. I mean, seriously....why so much fucking. Can you just hit the showers? Can you not fuck too much. I mean, if you are fucking too much then there is an issue, no. Too much fucking is bad as not fucking at all and there should be a reasonable frequency of fucking that will keep you under the radar and just no the talk of the moment.

So no, I'm not fucking at the moment. In fact, this will be my tenth year not fucking. I KNOW! How time flies while not fucking at the moment. I have been celibate, a fancy term for not fucking, for a decade now. And I know its confusing others that I'm not fucking and they must understand why I am not fucking.

Is it because no one will fuck you. No, I have had, have, will have plenty of offers.

Is it because you did something REALLY KINKY that prevents people from wanting to fuck you. No, contrary to popular belief, Im really vanilla, but I do like to please others. A lot, so usually with plenty of consent given and a long talk, Im usually, key word here, willing to give into the desires and needs of others.

Is it because those slutty womens will not fuck you and they embargoed you getting fucked so now you am the mads and have to teach these feminist womans to fuck you or they will all pay! See how stupid it sounds and no, not even close.

Is it because you are secretly hiding an affair or fucking on the sly and don't want people to know cause SCANDAL! No, and you should watch less tv. I've had moments where someone did offer and are in a relationship and I said no. Even a few in open relationships and I still said no. It has alot to do with my....

Is it because you are part of a secret fuck society....NO and stop. Jesus, I mean seriously, stop watching tv!

Then what can it be? Why are you not the fucking. Unless......OH!

I will support you. I believe in your gender choice and or life partner gay thing. Huh...

You know its ok to be the faggo....um...gay, right. Its ok and I will support you. Wait where are you going with this.

I know some cute guys who will fuck you. You like twinks. Bears. Daddies, like you. What do you like? As long as we know you like dick we can get you plenty of dick. No. No, thank you.

But I mean, if you are not fucking women, you must like men...or men who are the womens...or women who are men who are women or that thing I saw on FOX that......STOP! Seriously, stop and listen to me. I want you to listen to me once a fucking again to why Im not fucking!

Then you are gay. No.

But you support the LGBT and many more. Yes.

But you are not the gays. Come on, you really care about the gays too much. I also care about the homeless, runaway teens, the environment, bees, and just not being a piece of shit to others, but it doesn't mean I am any one of those in the community. I have gay friends. Trans friends. Asexual friends. I have Bi friends I care about many people, but I don't have to be one of them to care about them.

And you want to fuck them..No, are you not listening to me.

AH, you are an ashamed homo! No.

YOU ARE! *sighs* No. My first kiss was with a boy. I was 6. I didn't think too much of it. My first kiss with a girl was when I was 15ish. That was awesome to me and I knew I wanted more of that. I knew at an early age I was straight, but it didn't matter to me cause I was busy being a kid and figured if it did come up then I'll be ok with it and such. In fact, you can say I was a late bloomer.

So...wait...Im confused. Are you not gay. Never was, am, and as far as I can tell, not going to be.

So.....wait...never ...... do you find others attractive... No, I found men attractive as much as I found Transwomen attractive. Attraction is natural, but it doesn't mean desire. Im sexually attracted to a certain type of woman and oddly enough my taste have branched through the years, but that doesn't stop me from noticing a man is attractive as much as a woman is. I can pass by and look at something I would not eat at a buffet, but have no desire to eat it. It can be nicely prepared and even a thing of beauty, but it doesn't mean I want it on my plate or want it taken away from me and others because I might want it alot. I like what I like and what I don't I don't. Doesn't stop me from saying what is attractive or not.

Wait...Im confused...did you just say you are gay. Im not gay. Just going to have to believe me. And if I was Id still be celibate because my celibacy has nothing to do with what I find sexually attractive.

Ok, then why are you not fucking, Why...

And it took how fucking long to get here.....shit, man.

In truth, a decade ago my social life was....chaotic. It was abusive and unhealthy. It was really bad and I knew I need to do something about it. The easiest thing was to stop having sex and to remove it from the equation. It did make my life easier and I realize I had a problem. I assumed all relationships were as bad as mine were. In fact, I realized through some of you that your relationships were healthy and I knew mine were not and was not normal. So I stopped. I had a long series of abusive relationships and I didn't want to be abused or even become abusive. I didn't have boundaries and it caused me hell.

In the past decade, I have worked through a lot and even Crazy Doc understand why I am celibate and if there is anyone who wants me to start fucking, it would be her, but oddly enough for the right reason. In fact, she's not fixated on me not fucking. Shes fixated on my lack of trust with others and that I can not place myself in a vulnerable position with anyone even if I was in dire need of help. I don't see myself as a person. I don't see myself as a valued person. I don't see myself with needs as a person and if I do not work through that I will only return to the harmful effects that caused me to be celibate.

I fear any form of intimacy because intimacy was used against me.  I can not repeat this enough. I'll even make it simple my love was used against me to hurt me and others around me and Im unweary in doing that ever again. Because someone caused that cycle I have been used by others. I have been mistreated and even led to believe that this is what love is. It's something nice with a side of abuse and emotional scarring.

That's why I went celibate. I didn't want to continue that cycle and I wanted some control over my life and the easiest thing to do was to shut myself down as a sexual being and just eliminate that out of my life in order to get things on tracks. Its why my therapy is now poking this bear. I've worked and healed so much that now I have to face why I am celibate and attempt to believe that there are women, yes I am attracted to women, who are not abusive or manipulative. That I CAN have what you all have, a healthy relationship void of abuse.

So....can you understand why Im not fucking...

......Id fuck you....you know, if I didn't think you were gay. Unless if its a threesome, then I think I can get down with that....that would be hot...

*raises hands in the air and walks away*

Rummaging out the Confides of a Motionless Tank

*takes a sip of strong Chai tea, swallows the hot liquid in more of a need rather than in relish and begins to write*

I'm not going to say that I'm a quick person, but if you give me enough time to reflect I can map out almost anything with probable solutions, errors, and points of reflection where I can usually sit in a sunny room and ponder my options. Then again, I'm at work writing this outside of the Coffee shop with free wifi with enough time to put in about an hour's worth of work before I have to go up and simply do. It also helps that I'm going to therapy considering that I finally have someone who checks my mental math and see if I'm stuck on something, obsessing, or simply making much about nothing. Having the trust to have in them in immense, but I'd have to be blind to negate the benefit of it all, even if it spirals me into places I'd rather not go and ponder things I'd rather ignore.

Above all, I learned that my past week isolation and angst, for lack of a more dignified word, has been caused by the lack of mental defenses. I didn't notice it at the moment. Usually, I'm either leaving with a mind filled with heavy thought or with an esteem strong enough to push me past my usual low point and into charging into a new day. Last week, I was wounded. There's no real explanation for it. I was mentally wounded and it didn't register. Usually, in these moments I have to work against a certain amount of time where I'm in touch with emotions that I usually can not register or have abandoned for a concept of "it's just how it is" and moved on with the struggle I called life. It's the reason why I'm able to endure immense difficulty and move with a speed needed in these dire moments where the majority of people are still attempting to register what has happened and why it changed. This has its benefits with a hefty price of blood, as I spoke with Crazy Doc. I'm not going to lie about my self-medication with alcohol. It's magnificent in blacking me out when needed and silencing the analytical chorus that inhabits my mind in order to get in touch with my own thoughts or simply to silence them for a moment and put aside the anxiety that I now recently realize have been terrorizing me for some time.

In order to uphold the immense stress and pressure of my place in life, I understood not knowing or acting on an conceived whim would cost me more than any chance take. When you carry such mental weight you learn to adapt and speed up everything. You calculate your situation faster than needed and understand the meanings behind meanings and the chances of a misplaced word. I can usually figure out motive, action, counteraction and even possibilities of the moment. It forces me to move in automation and many have considered inhuman and almost legendary.

Yet it's not life. It's not living. It's not experiencing the moment for what it is. It's being the best machine for the job. And lest week, instead of having my defenses slowly rise to the point of feeling once more my confinement of my sense of self in a protective and imprisoning protection where I can relate to the situation at an emotional distance, they simply did not rise.

They didn't take hold or take over or numb me.

There I remained anxious, irritable, annoyed, and sensitive. And it was hell. I was insufferable to my own senses and I knew something was wrong and yet did not notice that I was vulnerable in the real sense. I simply knew I didn't want to be near people or outside. So despite leaving for work, I remained and dealt with it, even though I tried to take my mind off of it with whatever task that would take my mind off of it. And yet, not one drink was had. Not a painkiller was taken. No coping mechanism was implemented, almost as if my defenses cost me more than my perceived weaknesses. I see that now. I understand how being made of stone cost me more than simply being vulnerable and open to anything to rush in and tear me apart.

The Jackels never came.

So if they never came, shouldn't I remove the tank worth of armor I continually don in hopes of never being exposed to an attack? Will the bad people leave me be or have they left me be? Am I more than capable of protecting my emotional self from any situation without always being on?

Wait.....I was off? I mean, I have lived my entire existence now as "ON". How was there an "OFF"? Was this me at my "OFF"? Was it really bad? With everything I've faced in life, is this "OFF" a bad place to be? Can I live here with some anxiety and perhaps a bit of uncertainty instead of constantly calculating my every thought and action before I begin to contemplate to take them?

I honestly don't know. I'm a bit confused. This IS new for me. This is something I never faced or felt and I can't bring myself to understand it because I have no reference. How you explain RED? I mean, how do you explain something so elementary to someone who doesn't have the concept of RED. Am I making sense? I mean, I just learned 5 months ago how to implement boundaries, so this is fucking new.  I mean how do I interact like this. Can I even interact like this? How in the world can I? I mean, yea......how? How do I do? How do you RED?

It all feels so stupid and yet, it's so simply to be overlooked. I might be overthinking this. Then again, how would I know?

Much to Grok.

1,014 words in 42 minutes. 509 words in 22 minutes.

That and I'm realizing that 1000 words is nothing to me and I need more in order to express what I honestly think.

Much to Grok.

The Hell of Trusting

The beginning is always difficult, especially when you know that every mental faculty you have has been conditioned to question, revise, analyze and usually toss out numerous attempts at communication. Perhaps it's because I always lived under the umbrella of stupid, but not just stupid, but a special category of stupid where your brilliance that has never been questioned when you are not present puts you in positions where the birds of your feather usually enter the same situation with a declaration of "hold mah beer...". Maybe it's because I was in a cult where critical thinking was frowned upon for belief, faith, and unquestionable acceptance. It's easy to look back and analyze where I have gone wrong and what situations have caused me to become this amalgamation of mental checks and balances with the possibility of reviewing what was, what could have been and what I could have done if.......

And this is where I am, IF. I'm going to say that the scientific method is one of the most amazing processes of investigation that can foster critical thinking, skepticism, and a healthy appreciation of fact over feelings. Yet it can not help me where I am at the moment. It can not offer any way to out of where I am. It's why I now can say with much difficulty and hard earned work that I trust two individuals and they both are or were my therapist. In a small room that brought me much joy outside of the need to stare out a window and know that I am not trapped in any enclosed place, I do what I have taught myself out of necessity and survival to never do. Here I allow the person who is sitting opposite of me to engage me in difficult conversation as I handicap myself in every way possible to not challenge, question, or analyze their words, choice of vocabulary, body language, eye movement, tone, and overall meaning including between the lines. I hinder myself, as many of you know having dealt with me since my very nature I have to have the answer. You find it annoying. I find it a life-threatening need. I have to have the answers or at least search for them since it's only me between the worst that can, have, and will happen. I have no safety net, backup, nor do I have anyone to bail me out if the world shatters as it has many times. Your annoyance on how relentless I must be to know everything possible is probably one of the deepest scars I have and in essence, it's what holds me together.

Here with this individual far away from the world that I relentlessly save, the same world that crushes me with an indifference that I to this day will always find personal I attempt to do what I can not: trust. Every second phrase I speak is one that betrays me and offers the woman with notepad in hand scratching away insight that I never share with others. I share intent, need, and reasoning.I expose more than I would expose with others, and considering that I have blatantly shared nightmares in many of your times of devastation and woe, if only to show you what many can survive if only you have the will to endure and strive, and shared moments of my life some would only hold dear and share with those of trust, none of this shames me in the least. I am in control. I have even disrobed in front of you and find my body of no importance or intimacy. I've shared sexual escapades and moments that would cause medical doctors to pause.

Yet never out of trust. Only from an abandonment of what most would consider personal. I do this much like one would take their hand and stab a knife between the fingers, in a show of disregard of one's being and no concern for one's safety, as long as I am the one harming myself. It scares many away, as intended and it offers me an open existence, but nothing more.

I exist. Nothing more.

I never trust, so in this room, I expose myself to this other person with more shame and fear than one would reserve for an intimate meeting of a sexual nature. Here I leave myself vulnerable as every instinct, natural and hard earned scream at me to stop. Here I offer another person the opportunity to not only help me but the chance to strike me down in the worst of ways. I do not trust because those who I have ripped apart the part of me that would allow any means of intimacy, bond, or .....I actually don't know what else. So help me, I'm so hindered here I don't know what I lack and it scares me.

I was happy not being human. It makes life easy, but hollow in the way of having something torn from you and only realizing once you discover you don't have the means of being. It's a hell that many of you do not understand and I would never wish upon. If I had ever met someone who suffered my fate I would have offered them a mercy that I always sought. And yet, death never came and I'm living past a point where I should have left you all. Instead, I'm crippled in the worst way and trying to learn how to be at an age where I've gained master above many things. Legends are meant to pass on, not exist past their point where the sacrifices are so blatant that they become a monument of sorrow.

So I expose and remain open until the point that my very nature takes hold of me and raises up defenses to allow me to move on. And yet, I do not medicate. I do not hide away outside of my reluctance to be among you. I sit and I suffer growing pains never felt and fears that haunt me once more. This is the price of trusting someone not among you and have no connection to you.

This is the work I do. This is the hell I face. This is me fighting for a chance to live rather a means of existence.

And now you know.

1057 words. 50 minutes