My first confession.

Age: 23
Male, Northern California

3/26/2011 8:03am

I am not a professional writer. That being said, I have a confession to make; several actually. I consider myself a pretty normal person. I know, shocking. Yet, there are these moments that I find so unique, so visceral, most often about love, most often about my heart.

You know that feeling where all you want to do is go to the gym, but you can't seem to bring yourself to actually go? I'm stuck here, like the idiot in front of the "You Are HERE" map at the mall. So I felt the needed to do something.

I have a therapist. Just so you know. That's not what this is. You and I. You're just the befriended homeless war vet that doesn't know up from down. Or that's how I prefer to feel about divulging my innermost secrets to a complete stranger.

This is perfectly normal.

Even wanting to be heard, albeit by said homeless war vet, is normal; I think. So here goes...

I had a nightmare last night. Something I've been fearing to become a reality very soon. My ex-lover finding a satisfying relationship. You see, we only recently drifted apart. And, while this isn't the first time I've held this fear close to my heart, there's nothing like fresh wounds to bring up old _____s (noun). I hate it when I can't think of a word. Perhaps I'll remember to fill it in later. I'm certain it'll come to me.

This too is normal.

I am pathetic. I can't count how many relationships I've been in. This is said in the least whorish way possible. While the number itself I'm certain can be counted in less than twenty fingers, it has more to do with my suppressing them to my subconscious than a stretch to remember some ridiculous number.
And I don't know why it bothers me so much when others find happiness. I guess I just feel so alone. Even when I'm with someone. I've only ever felt unified once before, and we were too much alike that we overdosed on each other almost overnight.

This too is normal.

Now I'll tell you what is not normal. Just for the sake of getting it out of the way. I am a professional webcam model, I sometimes eat my boogers, I have stuck my penis up my own butt-hole before, I am mildly obsessed with Lady Gaga, I sometimes lie to make my life seem more together (even to my therapist), and I have issues with being in a relationship even during the "falling-in-love" stage.

What is the point today? I'm not sure.

One of my creative "releases" has become dance. This semester (yes I'm still a college boy), I turned to choreography. I have created a piece to Josh Groban's Awake. I despise the fact that the dance is about my ex-lover, and so many others for that matter. The song is about that moment when you know that it's the very last time you will see someone, just before you say goodbye:

So keep me awake to memorize you,
Give me more time to feel this way,
We can't stay like this forever,
But I can have you next to me,
Today.

I just realized on Thursday that at the end of the dance I die. I kill myself of a broken heart and everyone else forgets me. As Josh Groban's voice raises into it's last falsetto crescendo I release my spirit into the universe. I'm left wondering, is this all there is? Will I be forgotten? Will I make my mark. Will I ever do any of the things I've set out to?

The answer is yes. I plan to jump-start my life this morning and get my ass to the gym, I plan on reading more books and going on more hikes, I plan on being alive. This is not to ignore the sadness or pain of my severed relationships, but to celebrate who I am and remember that every day is a blessing.

From now on I plan to document my successes as well as my failures. I hope to find the former to outweigh the latter. Yours truly,

Anonymous Self Exposure.

Ps. I've never considered myself much for words. If you have any questions for me you can email me at anonymousselfexposure@yahoo.com I promise to answer even the tritest of questions.