Sad stories

Not what the world wants to read, evidently. Even if they're true, maybe especially if they're true. Well, I apologise to the world for being such a downbeat mess, but that's me, I'm afraid, that's where I've arrived in my life. It's no-one's fault but mine, and I'm not suggesting otherwise, where I am is the consequence of decisions I've made, lack of courage, particularly the courage to be myself. But, by way of an excuse, perhaps, it would take some pretty desperate courage, or recklessness, to come out as a boylover in the current climate. So, it's greetings from the darkness, again.
More disappointment, too, over the past day or two, as I sent a hopeful e-mail to someone I miss seeing around in Blogland, but I suspect the e-mail address I've got is out of date, so the message hasn't got through. Like my ridiculous trip to try and find DBJ a few weeks ago, though, it's all pretty pointless, I'm not going to find a way out of my trough by tilting at unobtainable windmills. The trouble is, happiness seems to be one of those unattainable things, at the moment.
My wife came into the room while I was writing this, so I had to tab to a 'safe' screen for a while. She noticed that I wasn't exactly overflowing with joy, and asked what the problem was. Thoughtful of her, of course, but impossible for me to reply in anything other than platitudes. I really don't know how much longer I can sustain this situation, skating around the edge of the truth, because going to the heart of it will destroy everything. Why does it have to be like this? Is this my punishment for wanting? Suffer, paedo, suffer. The haters would love it, no doubt. Because 'wanting a boy to love' is the most disgusting thing in the world, of course.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B