Slow suicide

After the aftermath of the election fiasco, I've considered what I could do, how my life could be shaped in a fascist society. The options are not promising, frankly. As I've said before, my health militates against leaving the country, even if I had the money, which I haven't, and that's before the 'elephant in the room' scenario of my sexuality. Last Friday, fatalistic tendancies suggested that my best move might be to say 'sod it' and actively seek out the thing I want the most - a boy in my life. And there is a faint chance, maybe, it could happen. I've seen a guy, 12/13-ish, tall for his age, cute enough, and living pretty close to my flat, apparently (albeit not in the same building, sadly) - and he's spoken to me more than once, at his initiative. Rationally, the chances of him being interested in me are infinitesimal, but that Pandora's box won't go away. Even if we connected somehow, the chances of discovery, and their consequences, would be all too predictable, but the 'risk and reward' balance could be skewed by desperation.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B