How To Create Monsters and Tame Good Intentions

A couple of years ago, I created a desktop folder titled "The Hunt".
In it, is a name, picture, and number of all my victims since I've started.
A whole archive of every female I've ever had sex with.

When I'm doing nothing, I go back and look at those stills.
Sometimes I feel good about all I've done
Other times, I dont.

What does it mean to me?

It means that I lose a lot. It means that I win just as much.
Yet, I still lose more, because the majority of these people in those photos aren't even remotely in my life anymore.
Whether it was through my own fault, theirs, a mutual agreement, or just that subtle drift in the opposite direction of our lives, the only good that comes from revisiting those moments is the moment itself:

We might've fought a lot, been from two different worlds, or perfect in that time, but it didn't matter. In that one moment (or multiple, depends on the person),

I had you.

We lined up. Perfectly. Aligned to do one thing and one thing only; make each other feel good because we deserved it.
To feel great.
To close our eyes and let that explosive thought of "yes" envelope our whole being.
We earned it for no one else, only each other.

I get a high knowing this
However, 

__________________________


I ended up in this predicament of hunting bodies by adult naivety and schoolboy curiosity.

9th grade, that young...two of my friends were new recipients of the "Experienced" club, although they only had sex with one female themselves.
They used to tell us so many stories about sex...us, The Young.
Couple of their tales weaved in with the sexual fables and escapades of the upper class-men; I stood no chance but to become enticed by this "sensation".

Words couldn't do it justice. You couldn't learn it in a book. It was the perfect realm.
Just her and you, mentally and physically blending.
Even this little elementary description flitted into my ears and sparked a desire I was determined to satisfy.
I was hooked on this thrill without ever even knowing what to do really.

Those guys at my school beat up on me so much about it.
They found it even more amusing that I had never even kissed a girl at that point.
In my mind, I felt like I was doing something wrong. I never spoke about it with anyone because I had no male figure to turn to..
and I damn sure wasn't talking about kissing girls with my aunt or mum. 

I wanted what the star quarterback in high school had.
I craved what the top point guard told stories about during lunch.
So I made it a priority to lose my virginity by the end of my freshmen year...

I kissed my first girl the Summer of 9th grade, but no sex.

10th grade came and so did my ambition.
10th grade passed and so did my disappointment (in due time).

November 10th 2009 finally happened.
That is the day I fell from grace.

From that day on, it was done sometimes for love,
but mostly lust.

It even turned into a game once. Me versus all my friends.
I never abandoned my standards to get ahead, but I'm pretty sure I did hurt some girls along the way.

Some understood, and even let me use their body for the adventure.
But even till this day, I can't tell if they were really using my body for their own agenda.

I went to this dark place, trying to hold onto my heart at times.
I would be home, wondering why I wasn't having sex at the time and just feel sly tingles move my body to find someone,
and use her.

I ruined a great relationship hunting in the jungle.
I watched a girl, who liked me, cry in front of me because I had sex with her roommate.
I've had my nights where it was nothing and everyone involved knew.

My heart doesn't beat the way it used to.
My lips don't kiss the way they used to.
Since
I created monsters
as one created me. 

Currently, Im better at holding my urges in check.
And I think that's because of the folder.
I look at those faces and feel pride, but shame too.
I think of where they are now and most of them I can't even find,
the ones who I can find appear to be doing awesome.
But why do I even look at all?

Tonight, I feel alone. I don't know why.
For reasons unknown, I can't delete that damn folder.

"Loneliness Stefan, that’s why you and I memorialize our dead. There’s the briefest of moments where we hold their life in our hands and then we rip it away and we’re left with nothing. So gathering other peoples letters or writing their names on a wall is a reminder that we are left infinitely and utterly alone."
-Klaus

Later Days

Horror Stories

Between being informed or ignorant, is there a more relaxed prison?

Do we all go down in history? I hate how my friend's words echo through the day.
"Now that we were born, we must die. The hardest part is to make something and survive in between."

I would love to think that I am a spirit of energy and youth.
Positivity can grow and bloom.
Trying to keep a smile on everyone's face, even my own.

 Although I tire from the futility of my future demise.

Go Big Or Go Home:
The subtle message installed in all my songs.

I dont want money on my mind. Never meant for it to happen. I just want to think about sunshine and girls.
Sometimes, maybe things would seem less dire if I didn't have a family.
If it was just me and the road, well,
my chin would be held a little higher
and
maybe I could write down some verses.

Can't quit now. Cause I have wings with chains to a world that doesn't care about my name.

Later Days  

Direction (This Makes No Sense)

Im just going to start writing

I watched The Perks of Being A Wallflower and I thought about being 16.
About how I do miss it.
And I returned to school today from break, feeling this invisible pressure slowly rear its head when I stepped on campus. Only at this school have I felt it.
When I was home, I woke up each morning, turned on my computer, and allowed my Itunes to shuffle whatever music into my zone;
From Waka Flocka to The Beatles to Fun., the music of my life would flood my bathroom, closet, and heart with a spirit of energy and memories.
And I get to school (college to be more specific), where individuality, expression, and diversity is supposed to be the cornerstone of a college student's identity, feeling crushed by the persecution of being different.
I am seen as the bizarre.
_______________________________

4 years ago, I wouldn't have cared. Being home for so long always makes me feel like I'm 16 and growing...you know..that steady progression.
I dont want to always be growing into something, but I do want to always feel the acceptance of liking whatever I like.
Some people never get comfortable with their interests. It may not be popular or just not accepted for what it is.

When I was about 15 or so, I used to always go to one of my cousin's houses to get a haircut. He was a terrific barber and had this surge of life in him, so I always looked forward to visiting.
One day, I had to stay for an extended period of time (about 3 hours) for my aunt to come pick me up and he asked me if I wanted to go on his computer to play a game, to pass the time and whatnot. I took up the offer and went into his room while he cleaned up for a bit.
It was my first time going into his room and he had about 2 posters up that confused me, but I didn't think too heavily into it.
I sat at his computer station and booted up the desktop. The background on his desktop made my head turn.
His background was a picture of a well built, scantily clad, African American male laid across an exotic landscape. My cousin must have a thing for matching because that was the same theme for those other 2 posters I saw when I walked in.
I was 15, but I wasn't naive. When my aunt picked me up, I asked her if he was gay.
She said yes, without saying yes.

This wasn't acceptable.

At my (Catholic) school, everyone always talked about how gay people were demons and destined for the brimstone of underneath. I can never forget how one of my classmates painted his "dislike" for homosexuals: "If my son was gay, I would kill him."
Us kids, judging without facts. And I never said anything when those conversations came up in class because I didn't have a real opinion, yet it was more than that. I think I always had an opinion, but it wasn't socially acceptable. Even though that was years ago, I only regret one thing: never speaking up.

Because what is acceptance without understanding the opposition?
You should come as you are. Unless you are a serial killer or something that hurts. Then you kinda need to change that. Please.

Acceptance.

I want to hold on to a piece of that wherever I go. Forever. It's like a tiny, golden-white orb that breathes Summer's wind on my skin. Makes me feel like the beach is in my veins.
I never smile the way I do when I'm at the beach.
That infinite (yes I know, ripped from Charlie's mouth) fall into a world you're creating from your own experiences and other's people stories, interactions, and influences.

And that's the biggest one, the influences. They gently tug your attention to places you wouldn't have expected to go. It's an unpleasant thought to recognize that you didn't discover your favorite song or food by your means, but through someone else.
Although it isn't how most of us wanted to come by it, it's an even better feeling to know that the people you surround yourself with could give you that-even if it is unintentional. With out some people in my corner, I couldn't be this. Whatever I've become.

Today, I lapse in and out of the general apathy I have for stranger's opinions and the developed foreboding twitch I've grown to change what's unacceptable to this small society of peers. If a ricocheting blast of guitar riffs and drum bangs burst throughout my dorm room played from my Ipod dock, I noticed that I get up to change it, often to something of a hip-hop medium. I was never conscious of this, until now.
I don't like it.

But today, I've taken another step to being me. To holding onto that light in this dark place. Right now, The Killers are playing their beautiful rendition of assurance and hope in "Everything Will Be Alright" right near my window. Which faces the entrance. To my whole dormitory.

It may not seem like much at all to you, but it's something to me.
I want that little piece of freedom I've found.
Forever.

This is my school report on the personal effect of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. (sarcasm)

Later Days

P.S. Sorry this post went a lot of places, I just re-read through it and it made me even puzzled. I can't really tell you how music relates to homosexuality, but it did to me tonight.

When I step back from what I have to do and step into what I want to do

Sounds like your first year of college.

Later Days