Chainsaw gut-rot

Angry and irritable and heartbroken, plus several other emotions all mixed up together in a rusty bucket.

(the anger is on top.)

Brought on by this boy's own self..... some might call it self-sabotage...all that was necessary for daily joy was a little face paint...a little cow-towing to the powers that be....a little sucking out of what makes the boy who he is.

Strong in his conviction that a person should not be judged for what is on the outside, but for what lies beneath...

Honour. Dedication. Loyalty. Determination. Strength. Tenderness. Truth.

He holds fast and at the same time he feels the boat rocking beneath him. He has to adjust his footing so that he stays upright...so he does not fall weeping into the darkness.

If only- he thinks-....if only those in power could look at what they have in front of them before they decide to shut the window.

They seal themselves in a concrete bunker, devoid of natural light, dusty, and the boy is now on the outside, looking in; a thin sheet of truth separating him from that which was in his grasp. He is watching this play out in front of his eyes- he is in the middle of it- that which was once his is no longer, because he made a choice. In truth, it was never his to begin with...it was on loan.

Everything he has is on loan. Every day he tries to find the good in it.

He made his proverbial bed.

He has come full circle.

He had let it all go once before...he remembers the last visit all those years ago, wishing he had not taken so much for granted. At least this time, each day was appreciated. Each moment was a recorded-in-his-heart joy. Perhaps it will be easier to let go this time around.

It is not all over, but it is shifting.

He lays his cheek against the softest nose and smiles to himself.

The truth DOES hurt

The boy had to tell the truth.... not that he had not been telling it all along, but you must understand that there are some truths that are held closer to the chest than others, and only shared with those who deserve to hear them.

Those who are now privy to the boy's recently divulged information do not really deserve to hear it, because they did not really listen when the boy spoke...or if they did listen, they are not willing to act of their own accord rather than that of the upper echelons of power.
This particular truth had to be revealed to save the boy... this truth is one that has been carried many years, from a time of childhood skating pagents and flowers and jack-in-the-boxes and unwanted red jumpers and patent leather mary janes.... now the boy has had some of what he loves taken from him; he is in a position to watch it unfold before his eyes, and know that he is perfectly capable and qualified to do it as well, but now he is not allowed by virtue of his disclosure. All he wants is to be himself- to be respected for who he is and for his skill at what he does, not for what equipment he was born with...to be allowed to do his job and revel in the joy of it.
Nope...too much to ask. The boy does not fit anymore. He is too queer a shape to fit either of the boxes on the application..... M? Nope.... F? Uh uh.....
He knew that this might happen. He knew he might lose something precious by protecting himself.

The boy is angry, and sad. He wants to lash out. He wants to hide away. He wants to bury his face in a cashmere embrace and forget for a moment that all of this is happening.

Now the boy needs to plant his boots and flex his fists and stand up.

He is not alone, and for this he is grateful.

This is happening, and it is not right. What's worse is that this is probably not the only place it is happening right now.