That boy...

There is this boy in my life.

He is a nice boy. And he likes boys. And I like boys.


And this boy really likes me. So he talks to me, as much as possible. About his life. And, admittedly, his life doesn't interest me -

- because he makes it seem very dramatic, as though the world is against him, as though his life is the only one in the world that sucks. And yet, even with all of his complaints and self-hatred (oh my, his self-hatred!), he does nothing to deal with it. He has no happiness or joy, and is dealing with some serious depression regularly.

It is as though coming out of the closet confirmed for him the reality that he is a lesser creation. And he can't ever allow himself to forget that he is gay, or that he is an important person, or that he has a right to allow himself to feel good. Beautiful. Worthy to be loved by real love.



I have things I can offer this boy, but I can't. His attitude, and desperation to get my attention and pity and maybe my affection, drives me away. I want to remove him from my life because the vibes he sends also pushes other men away - in the same way that it pushes me away. And yet he has managed to have some success; I won't leave him entirely because he concerns me. But I won't reach out and truly help him feel good about himself either - for fear that it may lead him to think that I want to spend life with him (he has started talking about moving to Vancouver). But he is the reason that I need to find myself more gay friends.

Because I need to find other gay people in town that I can hang out with.