Yesterday seemed to be a day of unrequited love, sadness over loves lost or never been. I love someone, but it isn’t carnal love. Just a sweet young man who needs a friend. We bonded when we met. I see him as a younger brother, a friend, another lost soul just like me.
I think we (I) get confused when I use the word love…it immediately responses to sexual love, being in love, instead of a deep (the deepest) human emotion one can feel toward another. I find myself constantly trying to justify this feeling, even the use of the word is perverse and makes me a tad nauseous. But we’re gay and gay people equate love with fucking and that’s not what I’m feeling.
My friend is sad and lost right now, he’s 21; I’m sad and lost right now and I’m 70. All I can see is humans sharing an emotion. In all truth I cried a lot last night waiting for sleep. I can’t fix him, I can’t fix me. We’re trapped, for the moment, in circumstance. I had a friend, he looked at me and said, “I love you.” Pretty words if he’d meant it. I asked “what do you mean?” He said, “why must we define our love?” No wonder I’m confused. I said to him, “I’m in love with you,” and he nearly exploded. That would have made it real, I’d have gotten too, too close. I was his satellite, orbiting around his narcissism.
I see the confusion. Maybe everyone is right and I’m just fucked up in the head, chasing dreams. Doesn’t everyone?