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!)