I've been so preoccupied with my daily routine I almost forgot, that about two days and two years ago, I wrote my first entry on this journal from the tiny living area of my friend's apartment. It was a cold winter's afternoon and I was all alone with my honest thoughts, curled up at the dining table in my depressed hoodie and sweatpants. Little did I know, what I created that day would grow on to become something so symbolic and important to my life.
Two years is not a long time to be writing something, but two years can 'feel like a long time' when you're going through a cathartic process that usually takes years. I've definitely changed, and have grown to understand the bigger picture of things. I started to maturely take more responsibility for my own life, and have adopted new ways of thinking to further augment my sense of personal enlightenment.
In terms of what I've been doing to open up more, I recently came out to my longest guy friend of eighteen years I have not seen in three since 2011. He was surprised, but couldn't have been more unconditionally supportive and loving. It is at times like these that I am grateful for the immense support system the universe silently provided behind my back.
With regard to romance, I might have gained some despondent sexual experiences within the past year, but I still have not made love, or found that boyfriend I've been determinedly harping on. I'm definitely more visible and daring on the gay dating apps with how I position myself to try and expedite more experiences, but have also acquired non-desperate principles where: "If you don't want to talk to me, don't talk to me. I need to focus on building my own life." I'm guessing that that might stem from a sense of exhaustion rather than confidence.
There are times when I am completely okay with what I tell myself, but there are also moments where out of frustration, depression, envy, love-sickness or whatever, I tend to fall back into that space of childish longing. And speaking of childish naiveté, this commemorative occasion reminds me very much of a particular hopeful post I wrote two years back titled 'The Movie In My Head.'
I remember that although I might have been heavily despondent about my situation when I wrote that entry in 2012, but somewhere inside of me, there exist an incandescent determination that was partially made to believe, in my own head, that the M two years down the road might have somehow achieved a taste of the aspired romance that was idealised. Anyway, these are just some of my thoughts on my second year writing Gay & Invisible. I don't know what's going to happen to me down the road, but hopefully I'll be in a different position, writing a different story next year.