May 1992

At Greg's party I avoided Lisa and Troy. Angel flirted with me; I was innocent and funny. Troy came up to me at one point. He asked where I've been. He complained about me being stoned all the time. I guess it might be my own fault that I feel lonely; I've put so much distance between my friends and myself.

"The Gate To Women's Country" by Sheri S. Tepper moved me a great deal. I am still there in the story with Stavia, Margot, and Joshua. I could best relate to Stavia, so emotional. As I drove home I knew that I would have to bring forth the actor in me to enter the apartment and face my father. As I prepared myself I realized that I rely on the actor a lot. The one who puts up, deals, takes it all with a smile. I am a good person lost in a cruel reality. I need to experience life, go places, save up all my concentration for school, educate myself!

Desiree and I went to Roscoe's. It was my first time there. We danced and talked. Walking back to my car we ran into Nick who was in my Fundamentals Of Fashion Design class. I gave him a ride home. We exchanged phone numbers. The interest in his eyes was only too obvious. I'm looking forward to meeting with him.

I was in so much emotional pain I had to call mom. She asked what was wrong. I had to let her know what's been going on. I told her I'm gay. She told me to go to church and stop seeing my friends. "There must be an explanation," she said. I told her that I can't and won't change, that I love myself as I am. "So, this is what I get for Mother's Day?" she asked. I couldn't say anything more and hung up. I went crazy for a bit. Fell to the bathroom floor and wept. I couldn't bear to think anymore. No more thinking! Went to Rachel and Lisa's and hung out with friends. Felt like I had hurt mom, like I'd stolen something from her, that I had come along and taken her son. "So, what do you want me to do?" she'd asked. Her voice so cold. She can be so cold. Jim's right, what I've done takes a lot of courage. But tonight I saw my life without my family there and it was scary.

Met a local drag queen at a neighborhood bar. DeDe. She was sweet and funny.

I called Nick and we made plans for this Wednesday.

I just don't see myself growing up into a healthy adult if I have to go through all this. I never expected this. None of it! I don't want to be here or go through any of this. Dad says we can't afford a bike. I really need to get a job!

How foolish to desire acceptance from others. My friends have no right to tell me not to smoke pot. How dare they? They have to accept me for who I am. I'm doing it, I'm wasting energy on resenting others. I asked dad to stand by me through this difficult time, told him that I need him. He can be so understanding sometimes. I took Nick to No Exit. Bryan did not say a single thing to me, or look at me. What was his problem? It was a good time. Nick was lovely. I drove him home, then dropped Kelly off. I walked away from her house with the book she'd given me to read. I was filled with love for her, and went back, knocked on her door. She opened it. 'I just want to tell you how much I love you, Kel,' I said to her from the dark stoop. She hugged and squeezed me. I drove home inspired and crying. Telling myself, 'You'll live. You'll make it!'

Daydream queen that I am.

It just makes me so angry that I'm eighteen and not enjoying it!

Took a shot of brandy in the morning and called my mother. She completed the classes she was taking and got a diploma of sorts. I felt so proud of her and congratulated her, then asked her if she was excited. "I was," she said, insinuating that my news had spoiled the celebration. Then she started crying. It was so hard. I told her I loved her. How dare I lie? I don't love my parents. Guilt keeps me close to them.

Mom called and said she had prayed for me. 'Why?' I asked her. "So you can be happy. You know, normal," she answered. I was furious. I couldn't say another thing or hear another thing. I just handed the phone to Bell who was nearby. Smoked a big fat joint with Melisa.

This morning I took a couple shots of dad's vodka. Can I not handle sobriety anymore?

Drank the last of the beer and did a couple shots of tequila. Got together with Santi. Selfishly I got it out of my system and gave him a blowjob. I am disgusted and never touching him again. I'll write more about it tomorrow.

I am sick and tired of feelings and people. Can't take anymore. Santi got upset when I wouldn't allow him to take my pants off. He raised his voice saying that he did not want to play games and that he would have to ask me to leave. I assured him that I wasn't playing any games, that I was merely uncomfortable with my body, shy, and asked him to please understand. He kept pushing. I got up to leave. He apologized. Maybe I should have left, but I guess I was there to have sex. Get it out of the way. He locked the door, said his boyfriend would be out for a while. He sat in a chair in the kitchen, slipped his shorts off. I knelt before him, took him into my mouth. He instructed me, told me what to do and how to do it. Flip my tongue this way, now that way, take it deep into my throat, suckle, jerk it with my hand. And then it was over with. As he came, white spurts shooting far, I thought to myself, I've finally had the man I used to want! He said something about us ending up in a relationship. Never, I thought to myself.

Dad's sister is going to Iran tomorrow. Iran to me is the untouchable country where I was born. I wish it were liberated. I wish I could go back. Bought myself a small bottle of brandy, drank it, but was not able to achieve utter oblivion.

I'm working at the card shop again. I don't have the confidence to look for a better job.

I chatted with a seventy-six-year-old woman named Lucille today at work. She was grand and I told her so. Her hands were wrinkled and bony as she reached for the change I gave her. We talked about traveling. She said that her two daughters travel constantly, one to the Asian countries, the other the Middle Eastern countries. "And I'll never have grandchildren…" she sighed. Nick called. "Have you got plans for Wednesday?" 'No.' "Would you like to make some?" 'O.k.' I love his laugh. I'm full of images, faces, and thoughts.