All The Leaves Are Brown And The Sky Is Grey
The past week has been over saturated. The Highs, the lows, the colors, the grays; when it was good, it was great. When it was bad, it was fuckin' ugly. All I can say is that I did NOT get the R&R that I needed. I did however, see the true colors of my friends, and have an absolute blast.
The sky has been a miserable melancholy gray for the past few days. Between the rain, the wind, and the browns of the trampled fall leaves, the city has been wallowing in its’ own self pity. As I sat under my white and green Lacoste umbrella listening to my iPod, I realized that sometimes, you have accept the fact that sometimes things aren’t always what you tell yourself they are.
I sat there looking at the world around me, the cold black streets, the dark grays and browns of the surrounding buildings. Maybe its pessimism or maybe it’s a moment of clarity, but Denver isn’t so amazing. Life isn’t as amazing as I keep talking it up to myself. I’ve been trying to convince myself that if I work myself to the bone, get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, make enough money; things will get better for me.
I went to my first 21+ night, at TRACKS, on Friday. There were maybe four people there. Okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration; however, there couldn’t have been more than 50 people there. At the hottest gay club in Denver, there were only 50 people? It was definitely a shocker and a let down. I heard Saturdays are the night to go, but was still hoping that it wasn’t the pathetic excuse that is undoubtedly was. I however, still had a blast because I had a few drinks and a few rides on the mechanical bull, with my very dear friends (and Lesbian Mafia), Bri, Rae, and Ange.
When I text Eric that night letting him know, I got no reply, as usual. It seems that more and more, he’s been screening my text messages. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he’s actually text me back. Oh yeah, he text me back on Friday, when he cancelled on me to sporadically drive to Longmont to hang out with a friend. You know, I keep talking him up to myself. I keep talking up all my friends to make them so much better than they actually are.
I suppose I wouldn’t be as upset as I am about being blown off, if it didn’t keep happening. It’s not just him, either. My friends just think that they can say one thing, and do something completely different. Maybe it’s the people I’m choosing to spend time with. Maybe I’m too easy going, and let them think its okay to blow me off. Either way, it’s fucked up, and it’s getting old. Fast.
The bus comes, and I step up, pay my fare, and sit down in the first available seat. I look around at all the different faces, and I can’t help but to wonder if something similar is happening with them.
Growing up, I had very minimal friends. In fact, I had no friends. I was pretty much a social outcast until my junior year of high school. I had been going to school with the same people for years, and no ever looked twice at me. I was hideous and overweight, and my family was broke. I lived in a trailer, for Christ’s sake. I spent as much time as I could, dancing at the studio in Boulder, because it was my escape from the loneliness of being at the bottom. Well now, I’m not at the bottom. I’m not broke, hideous or overweight anymore. Hell, while I am a bottom, my friend’s call me a “bottom on top”.
But I still have that very familiar feeling of being alone. Here I am exuding success, and suddenly I realize that I’m not as high up as I thought I was.
Sometimes, when you work for something hard enough, you actually get the desired result. That’s not the case with me. Nothing is ever handed to me, not that I would want it to. Every so often, I would like things to go in my favor.
Every so often, I would really appreciate a friend.
Matty B.
