I need to tell my story. Chapter 2.

I started to hate living at home with my parents when I was around fifteen years old. It’s like they were always trying to get under my skin, especially my father. He never stopped to remind me how lazy I was and how I would never amount to nothing. This was just his way to get me motivated, but it had the exact opposite effect on me. So I felt completely misunderstood and because of that I distanced myself from them as much as I could. Whenever I came home from school, I would just immediately go up to my room and only come down for dinner and bathroom breaks. And in weekends I stayed up there just as long as I could, in order to avoid any confrontation.
This definitely damaged the relationship with my parents a great deal.

It’s just that, when I was home, all I wanted to do was sit behind my computer and chat with my friends on MSN Messenger. The good old days. At least my friends understood me, or so I thought. Me and my friends could talk about anything and everything. Conversations I could never have with my parents.

Looking back on that period makes me realize that it wasn’t so bad after all. Even though me and my parents never really saw eye to eye during that time, at least they were there. I wasn’t alone. The contrast with my current live couldn’t be any bigger.

Now all I do, is sit inside an empty house, feeling sorry for myself. I live all alone, with nobody here. Something I dreamed of when I was that teenager I just told you about. I wish someone would’ve told me “be careful what you wish for”. Not that that would’ve changed anything, but maybe I would have appreciated my situation back then a little more.

Now the reason why I feel so sad and lonely all the time, is of course due to my sexual orientation. The wonderful gift of homosexuality I’ve been blessed with. (Yes, that is sarcasm.) I can’t even begin to describe how much I hate it. The fact that I can’t be myself and that I can’t tell anyone why I am the way that I am. Why – after 26 years – I am still single, and never even had a relationship. It’s been fucking me up so much lately, that I can hardly stand being around couples anymore. Especially when my friends are with their girlfriends. It just makes me realize how much I envy them. All of my friends are settling down with their girlfriends, buying houses, getting married, talking about having children, travelling together. And I have none of that.

Obviously I could do something about it. I could accept who I am and start dating guys. Showing that metaphorical middle finger to the world and start thinking about myself. But, that’s not going to happen. I’m not that brave guy who’s ready to take on the world, who’s ready to jeopardize everything in hopes of a better life. I’m so terribly afraid of the consequences, that feeling depressed, sad, lonely, … still has the upper hand. I still prefer that to potential happiness. How fucked up is that?

I’ve been thinking the wrong kind of thoughts too, not that I would ever act upon them, but those thoughts still wander around in my head. What if? What if I could just quit?
It’s just so fucking unfair, all of it. Why me? Why do I have to go through all this shit? Why can’t I just have a normal live?

See you next time. (I promise!)





Last night I was out drinking with a couple of friends. One of those friends was the guy who I told I was gay, only three months ago. We started out with six friends until eventually it was just me and him. After a few hours we decided to have a smoke, so we went to the smoking section of the bar we were at. This is when we met two Romanian guys who had been living and working in Belgium for a couple of years.

So these guys started telling me and my friend about their lives and their business here. One of those guys even showed us pictures of both of his sons, which was very nice in a way. Meeting a total stranger who you’ve met only minutes ago, ‘trusts’ you enough to show you pictures of his family. This really made me respect those guys.

In the beginning it was very interesting talking to them until somehow the subject of homosexuality and pedophilia was brought up. Both of these guys said how much they hated gay people and how it was an illness.
Half a year ago I wouldn’t even care about what they said and I would’ve probably agreed with them, to fly under the radar. So that people definitely wouldn’t think I was gay myself. But since I’ve come out to my friend and I’ve been thinking about all of this more than ever, I decided to not let go. I wanted to know why these guys disliked gay people, but they didn’t really seem to know why, apart from saying that it’s wrong.

I then went on to ask what would happen if his own sons turned out to be gay and he told me that they would no longer be his sons. He would break all ties with them and would walk straight out of their lives. This kind of fucked me up a little bit. I thought of the picture of this little boy I was shown and how this kid’s life would turn out should he be gay.

I initially kept asking questions, until I couldn’t listen to it anymore. So I started putting on my hoodie and jacket when my friend asks “are you leaving?”. To which I replied that I couldn’t listen to their shit anymore. I stood up and I told both of these guys “listen, I know you’re going to hate me, but I’m gay myself”. One of them started saying, “Oh no, really? You’re gay!? Don’t tell me this is true.” I actually wanted to shake their hands out of the initial respect I had for them, but I just slapped one of them on the shoulder. The other one looked at me pretty angrily, so I left. Just like that.

I drove my bike straight home and crawled in my bed, while overthinking what had happened that night. Just as I was listening to some sad music whilst falling asleep, I heard my doorbell. It was my friend who came to my house to check whether I was alright. I told him I was, but really I wasn’t.

We talked for a few more hours, but we ended up at the same exact point we always do. He thinks I should tell people, but I don’t want to. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but quite frankly, I don’t really care.

See you next time.


I’ve been away for a while. Because I started having second thoughts about all of this.
Could a blog really be useful to me? It turns out that after four months of not writing, I wasn’t quite finished telling my story, since I never even started to. So, let’s pick up where I left off.

A lot has happened recently.
On June 3 me and one of my best friends were both heading home after a night of heavy drinking, when I convinced him to have another drink at my place. He kindly agreed to it, not knowing the whirlwind of emotions he was about to witness.

We initially started talking about random stuff, when I suddenly got the urge to get all emotional. In all honesty, I don’t really remember much from that night – due to the alcohol I had consumed – but I told him that I was gay. Just like that. No idea where this suddenly came from, but something triggered it. Maybe it was meant to be?

I started crying uncontrollably and kept sobbing non-stop while telling him everything that came to mind, which equals years of bottled-up emotions. I told him that I didn’t want to be gay, which goes without saying of course. He told me that nothing would change for him and that he would support me regardless. He also told me that I needed to accept who I was, instead of fighting it and staying unhappy.

It’s a good thing I was drunk out my mind that night, because I had finally – for the first time in my life – built up the courage to tell somebody that I was gay. Being drunk was an equally bad thing though, because ever since that moment I’ve been scared it might have caused irreparable damage. I can’t undo what I did or unsay what I said.

The next day I woke up with a real bad hangover, quickly realizing what I had done the night before. I hadn’t gotten any reaction from him yet, and I chose to not say anything either. I was thinking that if I never brought it up, maybe he would forget it ever happened in the first place? That strategy didn’t sit very well with me though, because I felt that I needed to fix whatever damage I might have done. Or at least try to silence him. So I sent him a Facebook message telling him to forget what I had said and pretend like nothing ever happened. I insisted that he would keep his mouth shut, even to his girlfriend. He told me that he obviously wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t really believe him. A part of me thinks he already told his girlfriend. I don’t think people can easily keep this kind of secrets.

I will be seeing the both of them together at a friend’s barbecue this weekend, so I will try to ‘read’ her a little bit. I’m already dreading having to go through all these feelings again, but there’s no way but forward in this situation.

Besides,  “the truth shall set you free” (Veritas vos liberabit), right?

See you next time.


Random Thursday Ranting.

Why do I insist on acknowledging people who don’t deserve any of my time? Is it because I’m afraid to wind up alone without them? Or is it because I fear the consequences of cutting all ties with them? 

So, I have this friend, who – now that I think about it – I can’t actually call a friend.
Even though I’ve known him for years now, about 13 years to be exact.
He’s the type of guy driven by testosterone. We used to get in all sorts of trouble together, but things have changed since we were teenagers. I’ve grown up and he hasn’t quite as much. The reason why we became friends, was because we made each other laugh all the time. As soon as we saw each other, we tended to burst out in laughter. At least that’s when we were on good terms. There were times when we didn’t. And these times are now more frequent than ever.

This guy is the type of person that can make me feel like complete shit in a matter of seconds. Like I’m a useless person, who’s never going to amount to nothing. A ‘normal’ person would be able to ignore those thoughts, but I can’t. Even though I am the guy with the normal 9 to 5 job, and I am the guy who doesn’t live with his parents anymore and I’m the guy who actually has friends. Real friends.
The problem however is that the things that he says to hurt me, are true as well.
I am the guy who dropped out of college, and I am the guy who doesn’t have a degree, and worst of all I am the guy who never even had a girlfriend.  He’s called me a faggot before too, but that’s a truth he fortunately doesn’t even know about.

So tell me, why do I still talk with this guy? Why are we still connected through social media, when we disapprove on damn nearly everything?
I’ve come to a point in my life, where I want to make the right emotional decisions – hence the reason why I started this blog. I want to surround myself with people who are actually worth my time and who make me feel good – heck – who make me feel great about myself!

I’m literally getting nothing out of this relationship anymore, so I think I’m ready to pull the plug on this thing. When somebody has the ability to drain lots of your energy, simply by saying certain things, is it all still worth it?

See you next time.

I need to tell my story. Chapter 1.


Like the title already suggested, I felt the need to tell my story.
My story is about being gay, afraid to speak out.

I’m a 26-year-old guy who’s too terrified to actually tell anyone how I feel, so I’ve always chosen to keep my story to myself. Until now. This blog will define the first moments of me telling the world that I’m gay. Even though I will stay anonymous throughout this whole process.

I hate living the way I do, hiding the true me behind a well-built facade.
Just like the Roman god Janus, I’m two-faced. Like there’s two versions of me.
One where I’m with family members, friends and co-workers, which is the straight guy who’s got everything figured out. The other one – the real one – is the gay guy who feels really sad and lonely and struggles with everyday life.

I chose to name my blog after the Roman god Janus, not only because of the visual comparison of being two-faced, but because he represents beginnings, transitions and endings. I hope writing this blog will prove therapeutic for me and will mean a new beginning in my life. A new chapter. I also hope my blog will inspire people like me to find similar ways of dealing with the never ending struggle of being gay.

See you next time.