Too difficult

There are days when the convolutions and contradictions of my life are almost too much to contend with. This shows signs of being one of them. When I first woke up, I heard a brief story on the radio news, following it up with a look at the BBC website. I wanted to write about it, but I found myself being bogged down by my tendency towards 'self-censorship', by worrying about what the faceless 'they' would think. So I read an online story instead, and while it had the desired outcome in a physical sense, it pitched me, in the aftermath, into a very dark place psychologically. Because of the effect one of the fictional characters had on me. In spite of his age being what I always call 'too young' when I write about real boys I encounter in my daily life. Like the cutie I saw in the back garden just a few days ago, who was the same age as the fictional boy, give or take a year. However much I try to deny it, even to myself, it's always been there, since I was hardly more than a little boy, 12 or so, beginning to learn about who I was, finding myself attracted to my brother's friends, two, three, four years younger than me. Always them. Never the boys my own age. I still cling to the hope that I can live in the way I aspire to, to never knowingly hurt anyone, to never do anything without informed consent. But would I be able to adhere to those principles, if the wrong set of circumstances came about? If, for example, that little guy from the garden and I somehow ended up alone together? I'd be lying if I answered with a definitive 'yes'. The honest answer is that I simply don't know. But the knowledge of even the possibility that one day someone will break down my defences is almost too difficult to live with. Hate me, if you like, but one thing is certain - you'll never be able to hate me more than I hate myself.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B