Is it weird…

1 04 2014

to only now have a crush on someone even though you’ve been in a class with them for months? There’s a guy in one of my classes who I never really thought about that way until Sunday, when we all went out for drinks after. A friend and I were teasing another one of our friends about being wingmen to her, particularly for one guy in our class. It wasn’t until then that I really thought about him, something I hadn’t really done before. When I got the chance to talk to him that night, even briefly, it’s not that I felt something between us — I’m not sure I felt anything at all — but maybe it was just that that interaction made me see him as more than just the quiet guy sitting in class. I don’t know.

Is it weird? I feel like it’s a little weird, but maybe not that weird. Ack.

Why oh why

7 11 2012

do I get so caught up in my emotions when I have a crush on someone who probably doesn’t like me back?

Sigh.  Fix this bloody heart, please.

The Boy (reality)

16 11 2011

Something I found from about 2 years ago.  It’s sadly still relevant today.

The Boy (reality)

It just happened yesterday, and thankfully I wrote it down in my journal before I knew I would probably forget the whole thing.  My mom, sister and I went to the night market in the city, an outdoor market full of little stalls all trying to sell you cheap stuff.  After a while though, you sort of get tired of everything because once you’ve seen about 10 of the stalls there, you’ve pretty much seen everything. Anyway, we were just finishing up down one section of the market when I saw him.  I don’t know if it was him (the Boy) but it sure looked like him.  He was wearing funky green shoes with black laces and slightly emo-looking glasses that made him look really, really, cute.  He was sitting inside one of the stalls, no doubt volunteering, for some summer job experience thing with a blue background.  There were about 3-4 girls sitting beside him (he was sitting at one of the ends of the tables) all talking amongst themselves and he was looking their way, as if listening in, but he wasn’t adding anything to their conversation.  I wanted to go up and talk to him right there, but my sister and mom made a point to stay together in the crowded market, so I could only look at him.  I wonder if he saw me.  I wonder if that was really the Boy.  If he wasn’t, he still looked really interesting to talk to anyway.

We soon walked away from the entire market, going home, and I felt like a total loser for not even saying hi to him, stranger or not.  I felt like I had let yet another opportunity fly right past my stupid face and that I may have lost a chance.  Maybe this is why I don’t really know anyone.

Dream 11

4 06 2011

And while I’m on a roll about Jordan, here’s another one from Sept. 11, 2005.

There was a whole bunch of people watching this outdoor thing around Victoria Drive.  When it was over, everybody started [leaving right] away, like after the fireworks in the summer.  I needed to get to the Victoria Drive bus station.  Since there were so many people, it was hard to get through.  I saw some Grade 11’s there, like Spencer.  People kept stepping on my shoes.  I got to the crowded bus stop.  While I [walked, I saw?] J Lo’s dead body on the way.  People were crying, so I guess it was because of her.  I saw Jordan in the navy blue shirt that I saw him on Friday.  Immediately, I went over to him and said hey.  He seemed a bit surprised but I dragged him away to a quieter place.  I asked him how he was and he said he was okay.  For some reason, my hands were around his waists and his were around mine.  I told him we needed to talk.

We went and sat down on this picnic table.  Jordan sat across from me.  Karen Lee sat beside him.  Jordan told me I was too late; he already had a boyfriend.  I wasn’t really sad, just… disappointed.  I asked what his bf was like.  he said his bf was nice, kind, etc.  He told me that he would not tell me the name of his bf and I said that was okay, since I was gonna find out and bring it up again.  He told me that he really, really, liked me in the past.  I asked why he liked me.  He said that he didn’t really like me (personality-wise) but he though I was hot.  He also said he did crazy stuff just to talk to me.  For example, he made up an account on MSN Messenger named JD Onick that lived in Toronto.  Karen used the user to talk to me cuz she said she was bored.

He said [something illegible] that I had missed my chance and that I was too late.

[My commentary: oh what a dream.  Like I said, I doubt he’s actually gay but typing up these dreams on my blog is giving me ideas for another gay romance story… hmmmmm….]


Dream 10

3 06 2011

From Aug. 24, 2005

I was in the old house, in my own room.  It was about 8:00 at night, or that’s what my alarm clock said.  I think my sister introduced me to this guy in a robe, who was actually Jordan.  Almost immediately, I began making moves on him.  I remember we talked about stuff, but I don’t remember what.  I put my arms around him and felt his warmth.  But he was all, “Don’t get me wrong.  I have nothing against those people.”  In other words, he was straight.  I (obviously) was sad and asked if he could just lie next to me on my bed.  He did.  Don’t know how it ended because the dream was too long ago.

[My commentary: sigh.  I think I can decipher this one.  I had a huge crush on this guy, and actually knew a little about him so it wasn’t just an infatuation based on looks like it was for Sean.  Anyway, I really thought there was a chance he was gay, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.  At the time, though I longed for a boyfriend, what I really wanted was to have a gay friend, to have someone I could talk to about these things.  Despite coming out at 14, I thought that I’d be somehow find a hidden community of gay teens like me at school but that never happened.  I’m sure my lack of any sort of popularity/most people never knowing I was actually out contributed to it as well.

In the end, Jordan probably did turn out to be straight and it really wasn’t until post-high school that I started to actually talk to and find people like me.  It was so alienating, so lonely.  More lonely than I can really put in words.]

Dream 2

31 01 2011

July 10?, 2004

I’m talking to this man.  He tells me Sean is leving.  I ask if I can see him and he says okay.  He drives me to this blue/yellow small house.  I know on the door and his mom answers.  She lets me in.  I see Sean and he’s smiling.  He goes to the fireplace and starts packing, I think.  He seems sort of sad, I guess.  So I go up to him and put my arms around his waist, and it feels “larger” than I had expected.  I can sense his mom looking at me.  She says something about me putting my arms around Sean.  But Sean says, “It’s okay, he’s gay, and he loves me.”

Then I am soo happy and I try to help him.  And he puts his around me and it feels so right, but so far from reality…

His mom says something like “that boy has his around you” or maybe “It’s not right” or something again…

Another dream

27 01 2011

It’s kinda weird to be finding things I’ve written so many years ago.  But cool.  Very cool.


July 4, 2004

I’m sitting down on either a bench or a bus.  Sean is next to me.  I’m eating a bagel and he asks for some.  I say he can if he kisses me.  He does but not on my lisp/cheek.  So I point it out and he looks kind of nervous and he leans towards me and kisses me on the lips [unintelligible], his finger there too.  Now I’m in a house with Sean.  We’re on some kind of strange mission.  He ditches me and I am left by myself.  I try to find a place to hide.  I hide in a closet for a while.  Then I hear footsteps and voices.  There is nowhere to hide now.  A bug(?) opens the door and sees me.

Art Class

15 01 2011

Written on the back of the same paper as the homeless story.

Art Class

When I look back on it, it seems like such a distant memory.  Even when I think about it, it’s more difficult than it really should be.  Like the word love.  So tereotyped but usually by people who can’t find it themselves.  A stroy about real love is what we all need, like mine.

I remmeber when I was in Grade 8 art class.  I knew nobody since I was new to the school.  The students in my class were waiting around the door of the classroom when I saw him.  From that moment on, I constantly thought about him and never cared for anyone else.  It doesn’t matter what he looked like, but that I was just so mesmerized by his personality and charm, even from such a far distance.

Just then, our teacher came and opened the door for us.  Easels were set up around the room for everyone.  She told us to each take one.  I chose one at the perfect angle to him, with the sun casting a brilliant glow on his face as he smiled.  I remember her telling us to paint freely, since this was our first class.  I couldn’t think of anything but when I looked up, I knew.

Bus Boy

8 01 2011

According to when I last modified this, I wrote this in 2009.  Contrary to what I say in the end, I don’t remember.  Hmm.

Bus Boy

I first saw him not at the video exchange but on the bus.  He sat next to the doors on the back, and I first noticed him through the spaces between the bars as I slowly walked into the interior of the vehicle.  His eyes were focused on something outside the window, as if seeking solitude, but the empty seat beside him said otherwise.  As my eyes stayed on him when I walked past, I yearned for him to look over at me, and just before passing, he did.  I can only describe him as absolutely beautiful, and I almost felt humbled in his presence.


I took a seat facing outside the window, perpendicular to him, so that I could observe him without being obvious.  He wore a grey-bluish t-shirt, jeans, Adidas sneakers with a backpack on his lap.  It was only when he reached up with him right hand to scratch his head that I noticed the hair on his arms and the tan on them too, slowly fading into his natural skin colour at an invisible line just below the sleeves of his t-shirt.  As he continued to stare out at the world, the fine facial hair on his cheeks down to his chin were inviting me to walk over and touch them, to spend my entire day brushing them with my face as we kissed.  He was so beautiful.


But then it began again.  That little voice in my head that everyone has, only mine is more pronounced than others because I listen to it.


“What’s the use?  He’s not going to notice you, and you’re too chicken shit to go over and talk to him, loser.  Pathetic.  Truly, pathetic.”


The words seeped into my mind despite my efforts to dig them out and throw them away.  It was the truth; I didn’t need a fortune teller to tell me this scene was going to play out the way it always did – with me thinking about him the entire day while I wallowed in sadness about how I had the chance but didn’t grab it.


Then the tears came.  But they never flow.  I didn’t allow them to, but they collected in my eyes, evidence that those hateful, truthful words meant something.


Suddenly, I felt a familiar stirring in my nose and sneezed.  He turned to my direction when I opened my eyes, and my mind jumped to conclusions that were beyond belief.  I wondered if he knew I was staring at him the whole time.  I could not read his face, so I assumed he was merely glancing over.


He finally turned his head again, but didn’t look back out the window.  He sat staring straight ahead, slightly angled in my direction, and this was all the proof my foolish, naïve mind needed to assume he had some attraction to me, or at least curiosity.  I could have smiled, but I didn’t think he would have noticed.


It was my stop.  I hated to leave, to leave him on that bus with that empty seat beside him, where I should have been, talking to him about recent movies, his favourite music, and where he was going.  I should have been there.  But I wasn’t.  Instead, I shouted a quick, “Thank you” to the bus driver before stepping off.  After a few paces, I looked back at the bus.  His head was turned in my direction again, but I couldn’t be certain he was looking at me.  I memorized his face like a blind man and Braille – every bump, curve, and wrinkle locked into my mind.  Still, my hopeful mind believed – believes that I will see that beautiful boy again, and that time, the empty seat next to him will be filled by me.

The Boy (a dream)

4 11 2010

Another dream I had a long time ago.  The last time I modified it was apparently more than a year ago so it’s at least that old.

The Boy

I have to write this all out before I forget.  If the Boy happens to read what I’ve written, well, I don’t think it really matters anymore anyway.

So last night, I had a series of dreams, most of which I don’t remember, but there was one that I did.  Like most of my dreams, I don’t remember how exactly it began.  I do remember that I had dreamed a little before this all happened.  I was standing in line for something and talking to this girl while holding an umbrella.  We were arguing about something, and I remember saying to her, “Well, then you’d be screwed!”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him behind me.  Like what I would’ve done in real life, I pretended I didn’t see him because I didn’t know what to say to him.  Still standing in line, I finally reached the front of the line.  I was let in, then turned around and looked at him.

“Hey, it’s you,” I said casually.  He smiled at me and replied, “It’s you.”  We continued walking and I guess we were in some kind of museum because there were all these artsy things around (not paintings, but 3D art stuff).  We began talking to each other and even though we were on opposite sides of the exhibits (which probably means something) we were able to see each other because the art was transparent.  We talked for a bit (i don’t remember about what) and then he asked me if I wanted to really meet him later, at 7:00 after his school finished and I could walk him to Broadway St. and talk to him on the way there.  So I agreed, obviously because it was always a lot of fun talking to him about anything, really.  We finalized our plan and then he started leaving in this weird little rocket car thing, and I had to shout at him so that he could hear me.  He told me not to worry if I couldn’t find him, because he knew my address.  (NOTE:  I don’t know if I’m allowed to say it here, but IT’S NOT MY REAL HOUSE!  I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE THAT IS!  He told me I lived on 59th and Inverness (which in real life I don’t and have never lived there)  and he told me that he, if I failed to find him, would find me there.

NOTE:  I have never been associated with anything on 59th Ave.  It seems like a random number, if you as me.  Inverness refers to the street on which my friend lived for a few months.

Anyway, fast forward to 5:00.  I was at home, and panicking because like a lot of details in my dreams, I tend to forget things.  I couldn’t remember if it was 5:00 that I was supposed to meet him or 7:00.  I remember really going crazy and getting upset because I had really been looking forward to it.

Fast forward again, to 7:00.  I’m waiting on a street.  A bus drives by and I see him on the bus, so I get on.  I find it weird that he was a large tatoo running down his left arm, but I don’t care.  I go over to him and – I’m a little embarassed to admit this part – start making out with him.  I can tell that this guy is a lot older, and it isn’t him, but he looks like the Boy.  The camera switches points of view and now pivots to another bus, passing the opposite direction.  In that bus is the real Boy, who is looking surprised and a little upset.  But here’s the weird thing: he’s with his boyfriend, who looks so similar to him that they could be twins, and begins making out with him, as if to spite me.  That’s all I remember.

So yeah… I’m so glad I managed to type all that out quickly.  I think I know what this dream means, but I’m not going to say.  Again, the Boy (whom I actually met here) may read this, but whatever.  I’m sure nothing will happen.