It ends

They keep asking me am I okay.. and I can’t lie, I am okay. But faber drive… faber drive is keeping me up late at night today.

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am i the fool, am i a victim
I’d rather know,
you’d rather kiss her, good night, tonight, I’m blinded
i try, i tried
is this the way, is this the way, it ends

I hate how every song on my playlist spirals into thoughts of him, I hate how I can’t look at a single place in my room without some piece of him there; his pillow, his perfume, his shirt, his books, his toys. I hate how my saturday’s are just empty. I hate how we had such synchronized lives where every day feels empty, now that i don’t have him to share it with. I’m sure i packed away what he might need if he stayed over again, and sent packing with him whatever he shouldn’t keep here anymore. But how do I unburden my heart and my mind of all the thoughts and technicalities of logic I’d placed to keep him around.

So this is what your first heart ache with a real romance feels like. Like phantom pieces of glass stuck in your ribs from the inside.

I’d known from the start it was going to end, and then there were all the signs of how it was definitely not going to end well. And then it ended, and it didn’t end well as expected. I did what I did, and gone was the week I thought I had to savor the last of what we shared together. I had it revised. I never have conversations that were not even the least rehearsed in my mind. But there he was ready to burst into tears whenever I looked away, his heart……. just torn.

It was not supposed to end like this. I was not supposed to talk to him about something this precious stuck in a train ride from hell. There was wine to be had, there was dinner i’d planned on, i’d hold his arm, or let my fingers trace his perfect cuticles and look into those amber eyes and just….. tell him, tell him from the bottom of my heart, the truth finally… irrelevant of how he took it.

But lifes like that… life, the ruiner of mentally calculated plans that are yet to be articulated for optimal effect.

Now i was left with a version of him I’d never seen before, and a version of him that had to kiss her goodbye just to get me to safety. It was over before this trip began, because those lips can never touch mine now.. not like they ever could, but there was always hope until that kiss. Till our kiss… if it happened. Hope against all hope, now forever lost in oblivion.

I just wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay. I just wanted to hug him… let my fingers carefully soothe away the weight of being him, right now.. and who he really was, always. Tell him that i didn’t need absolutes or answers.. Just take my love, take my comfort and just..rest for awhile. Just know that everything will be okay, or I damn well would kill to give it to him.  Put a hand over his heart and just will it to be happy again, like he is with me most times… drunk, and happy. That I would give him a future, anything he’d wanted, just rest on me, and I’d take care of it, even if it meant i would have to bear the pain of leaving his side for an agonizing second. And all i wanted in return was to acknowledge my love. Not sex, not affection, not understanding, not pity, definitely not ignorance or what’s happening now. Not… nothing happend.

Not “He just needs some space. We just need a break..from each other”. I never thought Space could sound so ugly

I’d read about it before.. I could use the word in a sentence… but I never thought I’d come to emote what it truly meant to be in despair at the young age of 25. He just turned 20, a week ago. And here he was…….. caught in a maelstrom of his own emotions. I’d like to teach him that word.. make a silly joke about it only we’d understand, like how in the future we’d be joking about how I almost got arrested for taking the fight to his psycho-ex-girlfriend. Me the…. ‘friend’. The one that loved him in a way he’ll never understand. I’d like to be over him by then. I’d like loving him to be a distant memory, an embarrassing joke only close friends were allowed to make.

they warned me it would end. I knew it would end. Just didn’t think it would be this soon, and for this reason. And loosing him as it ends wouldn’t be this severe. Even though I understand it needs to be this brutal… he was just to exquisite to forget from real life without this great disappearing act.

I’m writing this, as it ends.. the last hopes and dreams and desires i have for him die and stop distracting me from moving on with my life.. without him. They say it take 21 days to develop any kind of habit.. I’m giving myself 42 just to be safe without him in my life, sparing my weak moments of socially acceptable conversation to dull the ache occasionally. And sadly, he makes me wonder whether he even understand what I’m feeling.. correction, what I felt for him. and what I was ready to do for him, with or without his approval, to give him a chance at happiness.

I’m in a sudden mood for movies that have tragic endings for unrequited lovers. I hope that with each day I see him, with each instance we’re forced to be in the same social situation it hurts less right in the middle of my chest, physically. And i hope to god it isn’t all the cigarettes i’ve suddenly doubled… My mother is definitely not going to to take heartbreak as an excuse.

I know falling out of love is painful and slow.. almost as tricky as falling in love was. i wonder if we can still be friends… i hear it doesn’t work like that at all. But i’d like to try… even as devastating as it feels seeing him fall for someone else might be. But time heals all wounds, even the ones we can’t get to the usual way.

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Life is For the Living


Since 2010, the world is abuzz with the rise in suicide by gay teens, one of them especially because he was outed to his peers in the most compromising of ways.  I’m not surprised, even I gotta admit I had flirted with the idea a couple of times when the bullying had been particularly bad, or if I had yet another religious discussion with my family. Hardly something I could avoid, I was meant to be in school and my family was fanatical in their religious beliefs. My only options were live as I was where I was, conform to the norm, or what? run away? live on my own?? Sri Lanka isn’t one of those places you can be independent as a teen.

I was never one of those people who did a good job at lying, I’m not one those people who suddenly discovered they were gay; I was gay from as early as my toddler days, it was boys always and I have absolutely no doubt about it! So then, how do you lie about something that is such a huge part of your psyche, and keep it up all soo well? I was failing miserably right throughout my attempts.

Sometimes life got tough or even unbearable and I would just reach this point and think, why do I have to go through this hurt? Why do I have to tolerate this pain and disappointment from the world around me? People keep saying it gets better, but it looks to me like it’s just getting worse and then there would be that thought; Why bother with all this, it could end in a matter of seconds, if only I could end it all.

I guess it’s just not the gay’s and lesbians that feel the need to consider Suicide, everyone has their own problems whether they are 6 or 62. Last year around January, when I started work at my new office, two of the guys were talking about how a friend of theirs had committed suicide. I didn’t even think twice to pay attention; people die, people always and most often die, it was just a fact of life I’ve grown accustom to, even if it was a young person. I had come to a place where life and death evoked an ignorant and indifferent reaction. It disgusted me when a weekend later, I found out this was someone I had known relatively well a few years back, but sync’ed out of interaction as social circles changed.

It was no big secret in Colombo my friend Ashan had committed suicide, i was just the dumb fuck that didn’t know it was him. In a strange twist of fate, I think i was one of the last few people to talk to him, albeit on facebook a day before he took his life. He’d commented on something i posted and I messaged him saying ‘hey, long time no see…’, we chatted random nonsense, about where we were in life at the moment, and that was that, conversation just went offline. I don’t even think we were friends in the true’st sense.. he was more of a comfortable and endearing acquaintance. He was a nice boy, someone his parents and friends could be proud of knowing… gone before we even knew what was going on..

No goodbye, no ‘hey, i’m going through something’, no way of seeing his beautiful face and that pretty smile that never carried to his eyes. Not knowing that something was wrong with one of the nicest boys I ever knew, although it was random and very brief our interactions. I used to drop Ashan home sometimes, I would run into him or he’d pop up in conversation because of the many mutual friends we shared. He was sweet, funny, entertaining and yet something was just not right. You’d see it in those awkward moments of silence, when you can’t ad-lib life. A brief flash of reality that let the real Ashan out of the bag. But i was not even a friend, i never bothered more than knowing it was there. But here i was, the acquaintance with a grave full of guilt and despair over a life that was lost too early because I didn’t know him well enough. It was a terrible feeling to have, this grief of knowing someone is alive one day, and dead a few days later. To be only left with memories of fleeting hello’s and stolen moments of interaction. What was worse was the guilt, of knowing i was one of the last people to talk to him, and wondering if i could have said something to change his mind. Well, I guess we’ll never know now…

I had heard Ashan has suffered some heavy losses even before he hit his teens, I even heard his living environment wasn’t the most ideal of situations. Recently I went to visit a friend who lived a few no’s down from him and Ashan’s seemed like a nice big house; I guess it wasn’t the home he needed. And finally I had heard the truth behind his tragic and too-early demise a few months ago, and I just loathed myself for not knowing him enough to hear it and tell him life goes on.

But coming back to me, Sure i flirted with the question as well, but the answer I chose was always a resounding No. I can’t explain the exact how’s and why’s but something in me never let myself be a victim of the darkness I felt around me. I had pockets of tiny light, little gifts of hope in my God and my faith in him (no matter what anyone told me), I had friends who were loving and supportive when I couldn’t get it from my family and I had me, when all else fades, I had me… my own light brighter than the rest. A spark in me that refused to settle, refused to die, refused to be dimmed. If all of life failed me, I knew I was worth depending and holding out on. If life was going to fight me for it, I was adamant that I would give it a fight worth remembering. And i’m so happy i did… Life does get better, it got shitty before it got better, but it did get better after all.

So Ashan, life is too long to let someone live without you. I hate knowing you won’t answer my facebook messages, and my phone calls. I barely knew you, but I liked the little i knew about you, and if i could make a judgement call based on what i know, you were an awesome dude, and I wished I had the chance to get to know you better.

For anyone and everyone who I’ve never personally known who is reading this… know that you matter to the people you least expect to make an impact on, and that life has its shitty moments that make you think suicide is actually an option to consider and equally or greater moments of epic happiness and good things. I gotto admit suicide seems like a good option sometimes, and it might seem like a damn good choice in certain cases, but if you can find the strength and the courage to say you’ll give one more day a try, five more minutes a chance, 10 more seconds to smile and have a little more faith in what your life holds for you, you’ll be happy you did. And chances are, you won’t be leaving behind people who were very sad you are gone. I for one, would be one of those people.. =)

So Tyler Clementi, and all the other suicides that have happened, so sad you had to go… but know that the It gets better project, and this post would never be around if it weren’t for your suicide; so something good did come of it, just wish it didn’t have to be at your expense. It’s sadness that you are not in this world, finding love, sexing the hell out of your other horny university college mates, but now someone else has that chance.