You Clicked Your Heels and Wished for Me

I don't think you understand how embarrassing it is every time I'm with my parents in a public place and they see someone who looks even remotely gay. If they have anything rainbow, they are automatically a "faggot." Which, to be honest, I don't understand. Wouldn't that be, in terms, calling them a cigarette? Then, if we see a gender even hugging the same gender, I never hear the fucking end about it. Not to mention, they tend to talk about it constantly on the car ride home. Thank God for headphones, yeah? Usually, when we see these people, we are out of town. Where we live in, you don't see many people outside of the straight community. When we do, the whole thing gets worst. They'll speak about how they don't want "those" people living anywhere near them, no less being in the same place as them. That's when I decide it's best to keep my mouth shut. If they can't stand a gay person in the same town as them, what would they do if they knew that there was a gay person living under the same roof as them? I've known this for about 4 years now, since about the seventh grade. To be brutally honest with you, I don't ever really remember showing any slight interest in girls at all, but the realization hit me in the middle of seventh grade. What really made the truth slap me in the face was when he moved here. By he, I mean Alexander James Vinson. We met in the hallway when I was running down it, testing the teachers, and I ran into him. I felt bad because when I ran into him, I sort of closed his locker when I helped him up, and he had just gotten it to open after a dozen tries. I ended up spending five more minutes trying to get his combination to work. At lunch that day, he came up to me, really nervous. I guess he thought that me talking to him in the hallway was a one time thing. After that, I guess we just fell in line of becoming friends. I guess it took a while for it to hit me that I never really liked girls at all, but when he came into my life, I realized why. I gave it some time to think over, thinking that it might just be hormones acting up. I looked it up online, mostly, I wouldn't dare utter a word about it to anyone in my household, with fear that they would look down on me. I just wanted to know if what I was feeling was normal. The things that I read. . .the things that those websites told me about people who had been beaten for being the way that they were, it made me want to go fucking straight as a pole. It terrified me to know that people actually hated gays so much that they would go to the extremes of killing them. I wanted to hide in a closet, hide and never come out.

I've been so close to telling him. So close, but the more I think about my parents and how they react towards gays, it makes me second guess telling him. The thing about Alex is that he never really talks about it, he never mentions a damn thing about the topic. If we do get onto the topic, he always finds some way of getting out of it. I guess he doesn't find his way out of it, I willingly let him out of it. It's pretty fucking sappy when I let him get away with everything, and the more I do it, the more I become hooked onto him. I like to think of it this way, as long as I get to see that smile of his that he wears so well, then I am one happy ass mother fucker. He usually comes over on weekends, staying from Friday night to Sunday night. The rents usually find it odd that we spend so much time together, and neither of us have girlfriends. That's something I will never understand about him, why doesn't he have one? He's fucking gorgeous! They also find it odd that I lock he and I in my room at night. He's a really deep sleeper, so Iusually end up latching myself to him while he's out. I don't really want them to see that, not when they hate gays so much. I talk about this as if I'm in my room fucking him at night, don't I? I don't think he's that deep of a sleeper. Even though it's horribly embarrassing, I have masturbated to him, and don't forget the infamous wet dreams either.They are my dirty little secrets on the nights he's here. I usually end up sneaking into my bathroom at night when I think of the things my mind conjures up when I inhale his sweet sent, and hear his soft breaths as he is knocked out. I try not to think about him too often, because I know I'll end up wanting to pull my hair out trying to think of ways to tell him I'm pathetically in love with him. I'm like a little twelve year old when it comes to him. When I'm alone, and I have nothing better to do, I end up writing his name on paper so many times the page looks smothered in black ink. It amazes me how I have all this shit in my room, yet he never sees in. He's layed on my bed and there was a page right next to him with "Alex<3Alex<3Alex<3" written on every single line. I can't really expect much though, he is really clueless at times. I hate to admit it, but he can be really stupid at times. I don't mean it in a sense of he doesn't know a damn thing, I mean that clues from my love affair with him in my mind, and clues about random shit in general are right there in front of him, and it takes him forever to realize it. That's why I'm so hooked on telling him, it's not like I can just drop hints, because I know he'll never get them. Take this for example: last Valentines day, I sent him a text saying "I love you. . ." and he replied some shit about wanting my babies. The fuck!?. You'd think it would have upset me just a little, but it didn't. Why? Simply because I don't expect him to love me back, or to even like me a little. I don't expect anything from him but friendship, and I accept that. I just want him to know how I feel about him. The only thing holding me back is the fact that we never talk about it. I don't know how he would take it if he knew I was gay, much less the fact that I loved him. I don't want to lose him. Not when he's the life support that keeps me breathing.

Alex has the mentality of a little kid in middle school, I swear. He calls me his "wifey" just as all the girls in middle school called their best friends. I guess he doesn't know I have a dick in my pants. I'd be happy to show him if he doesn't, if you catch my drift. He especially acts like a little kid when we're in the middle or a minor argument. Take this for instance, we'll be in the middle of an argument about how the second Robin died in Batman, and when he knows he's wrong, he'll plug up his ears with his fingers and keep screaming, "lalalalalalala!" until I turn around and ignore him. When he does notice that I'm ignoring him, which is hard to do by the way, he'll smash his face into a pillow and pretend to cry. I guess he knows it gets to me, because he won't talk to me until I give up and cuddle into him. Even though I know his tears are fake, I feel amazing just to get them to stop. I hate to say it, but sometimes I like it when he cries. It always gives me an invitation to wipe away his tears, and to hug him. I sometimes hate myself because the way we act, it allows me to somewhat pretend that Alex is mine. I hate it because I know that it's not possible, he's not even bisexual, not to mention even if he was, what makes you think he would even think twice about me and him? What makes me feel even worst, is that he acts like a five year old...then it makes me feel like a bad person when I think of making my room smell of sex with someone who acts like a little boy. Only, my bad feelings on these things sure as hell don't stop me from thinking them. Who can blame me? Who wouldn't want Alex? He's fucking adorable. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to be gay...but then I see his smile, or I'll hear his laugh, and I realize that being gay isn't a bad thing. Even though loving someone who could never love you back is the most heartbreaking thing in my eyes, I wouldn't give up loving him. Being gay wasn't a choice, nor did I wake up one day and think to myself "I think I'll like guys today." Being gay is who I am, Loving Alex is who I am...but most importantly, Benjamin is who I am.