"Like Shattered Glass-"

I cooked for him. I prepared baked chicken teriyaki over steamed rice, with fresh vegetable stir fry, and a white wine. While we were sitting there eating, I looked over at him as he dove in head first to his meal. I silently smiled to myself when I saw a mouth full of food behind a grin. The meal had taken two hours, but it was all worth it, at that very moment. What he didn’t know yet, was that I had baked blueberry muffins to eat the following morning, for breakfast.

Afterwards we went upstairs and sat on my bed, where we played scrabble and chess. I totally kicked his ass at Scrabble (the entire game), but he barely redeemed himself by winning at chess afterwards. This is going to sound stupid, I know, but I was legitimately happy. I had no desire to go out with my boys. I didn’t want a cocktail, or to go dancing. Hell, I didn’t even want a cigarette or need to smoke. Sitting there with this socially awkward kid was not just great, but things were… okay.

He slid his hands under my sweat pants, and gently touched my freshly shaven skin. I recently started working out again, and my muscles were throbbing with the satisfaction of actually being used. Without saying a word, his hands found my most sensitive spot on my calf, and tenderly started working the muscle free from tension’s grips.
I
looked at him. I REALLY looked at him, to get a good read of who he was. He seemed like this great intuitive guy, who was absolutely gorgeous, was incredibly smart, 100% introverted, with this strained manic laugh, that would normally irritate me, but didn’t. The only problem was that no matter how hard I tried to get him to open up, he wouldn’t. …or couldn’t. I didn’t know if he’s guarded, or just insensitive. But I was willing to work through that, to see what was inside.
We were lying in my bed, and although he is significantly taller than me, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He held me tighter, and turned around to kiss me. I slept the entire night holding him, the soft skin of my cheek lying gently pressed to his smooth, strong back. I felt my heart smile.

“I am.”

A few moments pass.

“Well yeah, I prolly should have told you. Just never thought about it”

A couple minutes pass.

“And they’ve mostly been dates. Nothing that’s been going on a long time.”

I felt my heart sink out of my chest and onto the ground. i haven’t slept in 28 hours, and I can’t even imagine trying to sleep before I try and get this out of me.

Five weeks ago, we were standing at a bus stop, slow dancing with each other as cars sped past, the night cool, his body warm. He pulled me in closer, held me tight, and kissed me deep. Strangers passing, horns honking; the world was silent, because I was the star of a Clark Gable movie, and nothing was going to ruin that.

Two weeks ago we were sitting in my car in the middle of the night, talking for hours, learning about each other. The night was so cold, that my windshield had frozen over, and I had to periodically turn on the car, just to keep us from getting frostbite. I told him that I wanted more. That I wanted him. I wanted to walk in that direction.

Last weekend I cooked for him. That person I cooked for was not only my best friend in the whole world, but I loved him to the stars and back. It takes a lot for me to kind of put myself out there, and really provide for someone. I’m so used to taking care of only myself that it means a lot for me to do something like that. It’s almost…. Personal. It’s been years since I’ve done that for someone.

Just now I told him that I wasn’t dating either of the guys that I had been with the past few months, anymore. He told me that he had started seeing other people.

I am beyond words. I don’t even understand how to feel, how to react, or what to do with that. I feel deranged. That could be the result of sleep deprivation, though. Help?

Matty B.

“You Can’t Text Message Break Up!”

“Lets Party” and “I want to see you,” were the last two messages I received from him. I invited him out to the club on Thursday, as well as to Chelsea and my “Pirates and Thieves” party last night. He wasn’t able to attend either. I wasn’t surprised however, because he is always telling me that he’s super busy all the time and he never seems to be able to tear himself away from his grueling lifestyle of smoking weed all day and drinking all night. Finding time where both of our schedules are in sync is such a rarity, that when we do get to see each other, it’s that much better.

I first started talking to John on myspace a few months ago, when he left me a comment on a picture I had taken after the Jeffree Star concert. “I’d hit that” was his opening line, to what quickly became a new flame… or so I thought.

Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about someone that who’s first words to me were a shameless sexual innuendo, especially if that person was bisexual. Bisexual men in my life have all proven that they are habitually promiscuous, and usually lead end in heart break. However, I give everyone a blank slate, and after reading over his myspace profile and seeing what he was all about, my snap judgment was compromised. His profile read that a girl broke his heart, and now he was looking for someone that made him happy. He’s a huge fan of indi and electro pop, loves the Millionaires, and proclaims love isn’t something you see, but something you feel. Hook, line, and sinker, I was sold.

I visited him in the hospital in the middle of the night, because he was sick with kidney stones, and was all alone. I had been invited to a party that night where many of my very good friends were celebrating someone’s birthday or some sort of shenanigans to that degree. Despite the disappointed text messages and three drunken voicemails, I hopped in my jeep, and drove over to Avista Medical Center, to visit this “wonderful” boy in need.

We watched Family Guy, and talked about music for hours. Sometime after midnight the nurse came in to give him his pain medications. After she left, he invited me to come over to his bed, and lie with him. An hour later, I kissed him goodbye, and let him get some sleep. I headed home, where I went to bed (at two am), thinking about what a wonderful boy he was.

We talked almost every day since, which I found to be a breath of fresh air. Since high school, I haven’t been able to talk to someone that I was interested in, without them being total smarms; trying to get me drunk, or high, with the goal of getting laid. John’s capability for conversation almost immediately surpassed what I initially thought of him. In a matter of days my perception of who I thought he was going to be, completely changed. He was kind, funny, and smart… he seemed to be completely different than how he appeared, which to me was very attractive.

I went over to his house, expecting to only hang out with him for a few hours and then be on my way, because I had to go open the salon the next morning at 9am. However, talking led to kissing, which led to spooning, which led to massaging, which led me to staying the night.

He was lying on me, looking down, and running his hands through my hair. All I could do was smile, because being with this boy made me so happy. I looked into his dark brown eyes, and I just had to grin. I touched his scruffy cheek, and slid my hand behind his head, and kissed him gently. He has full lips, with three piercings on the bottom, which were warm and smooth to the touch. I rolled him on his side, and traced his chest with my finger. I leaned up, kissed him again, and looked him directly into his eyes.

“You make me really happy,” I said to him. Naked. Honest.
“I’m really glad you’re here. You’re beautiful,” He replied.

I smiled, and rested on my back. He looked down at me and kissed me again.

“What was that for?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. Every time you smile, I just have to kiss you.”

I studied him for a moment, but couldn’t help but to smile, when I found nothing wrong with this genuinely perfect moment. He kissed me again harder, and I closed my eyes. I can’t wait for this to become something. This boy makes me so happy. I know I’ve found something great, I thought to myself, as he slid his hand down my lower back, and I bit his lower lip.

A week or so later (last night), we finally found time to see each other. Unfortunately my Pirates and Thieves party wasn’t appealing enough, and he ended up spending the night with his best friend Britt, who just came back into town. I completely understood, because I know how it is to have strong friendships, and thought nothing of it. Until we talked on AIM this morning.

DymitriStarr: I’m fuckin bored.
MattyBeautiful: I just got to work. What did you end up doing last night?
DymitriStarr: Fuckin my girl and goin to bed
MattyBeautiful: Ha.
DymitriStarr: I’m gonna go fuck her again… ttyl
MattyBeautiful: Oh.

-a few moments later-

MattyBeautiful: Thank you by the way.
DymitriStarr: for what?
MattyBeautiful: For the night we had. It reminded me that I can still feel like that. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.

I couldn’t believe what he said to me. I couldn’t believe that I had felt so... honest towards someone that would act like that. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Why do I keep subjecting myself to people that continuously treat me like I’m worthless? Like I’m a piece of ass? I spend a great deal of time trying to screen people that want to hurt me. I haven’t been in a relationship for so long, because I am so paranoid that some boy is going to come into my life, and I am going to have to go through the same excruciating pain that I barely recovered from, over two years ago. It’s ruined friendships, like the one between Jeff and I. I just think that the world is out to get me, because people like John put on this façade and convince me that I’m just being over protective of myself, and then laugh in my face when I start to let someone in.

All I can do is try to learn from it. But what is the lesson? To not let people in, and live in this huge fortress of solitude? That’s no way live your life. How vapid would your life be if you blocked everyone out? I know from personal experience that it’s too hard and exhausting to always be suspicious of your friends and lovers. Life shouldn’t be like this: where people lie to you, just to lull you into a false sense of security, only to take advantage of you. “Look everyone! I bagged Matty B.eautiful!” This isn’t a game. I’m not a sport. These are my feelings… and to disregard that is not only disrespectful, but disappointing. I try to have great faith in people, and it just breaks my heart when a man is just that: a man. Stereotypical, untrustworthy, unfaithful, piece of worthless shit, man.

I’m really upset about this. All I can say is that its grueling to live life with a wall up… and it hurts too much to love everyone. I’m at a crossroads. How do you find happiness with anyone, when you’re not happy yourself? How can you trust others, when you can’t even trust yourself to make the right decision about which people to trust?

Fuck.

I’ll be honest though. It wasn’t all bad. He reminded me that I was alive, and could feel that giddy school girl crush feeling, again. If for only a few weeks, it felt good to think about someone a lot, and get excited to see them. I guess I have to look at the silver lining in these situations. However thin the lining may be.

“I wanna hold your hand…-“
Matty B.

”Face Down In The Dirt, He Says This Doesn’t Hurt.”

I, like the rest of the American population addicted to pop culture, love dirt on celebrities just as much as anyone else. Hell my favorite television show is “Dirt” starring Courtney Cox. However, I try to lead life with a kind heart, and try to not spread a juicy rumor when I hear one. In fact, I’m kind of a party pooper when it comes to that sort of thing. I may be hip to new club openings, and always step with my fashion forward foot first, but I’ve found that you don’t have to be a cesspool of diseased rumors, to be considered trendy or popular in the “Denver Scene.” (I use the term “scene” lightly.)

Over the past few weeks, I have received some a lot of troubling news. In complete honesty, when I first heard, I wanted to whip out my laptop, write an outraged bulletin full of names of people I was furious with, and less than kind words describing them. Instead, I did what any troubled homosexual does. He shakes himself an appletini, and calls his good old trusty Grams for advice. She asked me if I heard a rumor about one of my friends, what I would do. Immediately I responded that I would turn to them and ask them, for clarification. You ALWAYS have to verify to make sure your source is correct. She then suggested that I straighten out any miss conceptions about my character, and then continue with my life.

An IC popped up on my window a few weeks ago while I was checking my connexion. It was a 28 year old blond boy, whom I had never met. As his occupation, he put “Professional”. I thought to myself,” this guy has got to be interesting.” My friends and I all believe that people that put “professional” as their occupation, they have to be in the adult film industry. Out of slight amusement, I took a few moments to talk to him.

The first thing he wrote was, “Why don’t you have sex with anyone?”

I was taken aback for a moment. No “Hi”. No “What’s up?”. No warning. I couldn’t help but to be slightly entertained by being asked that question by a complete stranger. I also couldn’t help feeling offended. So I asked him who he was, and why it was any of his business.

He then, uninhibitedly explained to me his entire situation.

I dated this boy for a quick second, last summer. Then I dated him again, over the holidays. Both times it ended because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Apparently the boy chatting with me, asked his friend (the boy I broke up with) about me, because he thought I was cute. My ex claimed I was a prude, and never put out. He also said he suspected I had AIDS, because I had disclosed to him that it was a rarity for me to sleep with someone that I had just met. Clearly, that meant I had a sexually transmitted disease. On top of that, I was accused of being a slut, because if I wasn’t having sex with him, I had to be getting it elsewhere. None of those reasons were why I wouldn’t have sex with him. The reason was because I DON’T HAVE SEX WITH PEOPLE I DON’T TRUST. But that of course makes me a diseased slut. Brilliant. Because of this boy’s brazen ignorance upon ICing me, I decided not to go out on a date with him, despite my love for dumb blonds.

A few days ago, I received a text message from a friend of mine. It was forwarded from a mutual friend of ours, and to put it lightly, it had less than pleasant things to say about me. In said text message, it accused me of being a coke-head slut, who steals people’s boyfriends, and if given the opportunity, will ruin your life if crossed.

I almost had to laugh. Everyone who knows me, knows I have been cocaine free for quite some time, now. As for ruining lives and stealing boyfriends, they really give me too much credit. I haven’t played those games since high school. I think people’s misconception of me is derived from who I used to be in high school. I’m not a kid anymore… and neither are they. If you take the time to talk to me for even a moment, you know I’m a different person. However, I try to take these things with stride. I was a pretty erratic teenager, who was known for my “silver tongue, and venomous bite” as an ex-boyfriend once said.

What perhaps irked me the most, was probably what a friend of mine showed me a few days ago. I have been called a lot of things in my life, most recently referring to my use of make up, but some people take it too far. Taking a photograph, and photo shopping the words “Tranny” in red, across my forehead, is a bit extreme. Then posting it on your myspace, thinking someone wouldn’t tell me about it, is a bit ridiculous. (update: because of the amount of emails this boy got trashing him because of the photo, he’s deleted the picture, and made his myspace private.) Honestly, I find that to be a bit hurtful. Who goes through the great lengths to try and terrorize someone? WHAT GAY MAN WOULD DO THAT TO ANOTHER GAY MAN UNPROVOKED? How can you sit at my side, drink that martini I just mixed you, smoke one of my Marlboro Menthol Smooth’s, and call me your friend?

Recently a boy named Lawrence King murdered. Not because he was gay, but because he was a gay boy that wore stiletto boots, and make up. Lets be honest here. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to work it at the age of 15. When I was 15 years old, fuck, at the age of 13, I rocked my silk polyester shirts, Bermuda shorts, and blue and gray eyeliner/ eye shadow combo. I also had the shit beaten out of me on a regular basis. At school and at home.

“He Was An Inspiration For All”, “He Was Fearless, And Has Had An Impact On All Our Lives-,” read the headliners.

“I wish I could have known him. He must have been a fascinating person-,” responds one of the members of the gay website, connexion.

Growing up living a similar lifestyle, it outrages me the kind of reaction the gay community has had to this story.

He wasn’t fearless. He was terrified of the people at school. The boy that murdered him, I have no doubt in my mind had been harassing him, on more than a few occasions. For you to say he had an impact on your life, is a lie. Wishing you could have know him, is useless and vapid. How people fake their love for this poor deceased boy make me sick.

For years straight people have harassed me, because they are scared of what I stand for. For years, gay people have harassed me, because they are scared of what I stand for.

Not two weeks ago, I was drunkenly stumbling down the Hill in Boulder, trying to find my way back to a party I had foolishly left prematurely. I was on the phone with Brady, who was telling me how to get back, when I skipped past a group of people, and walked down the street.

I almost didn’t hear what one of the young men had to say.

“What the fuck is that faggot doing here? Come back here you fucking AIDS faggot! I’ll beat the shit out of you, you fucking pussy bitch!”

Maybe it was the liquor. Maybe it was that my tolerance for assholes has been reached, that evening. All I know is that I slid my Helio shut, gripped it in my hand tightly, turned, and waited for them to approach me.

One of the boys emerged from the small group, calling me a faggot, opening his arms wide, to appear larger than he actually was. He couldn’t have been taller than 5’8”, had buzzed red hair, and a flannel button up shirt.

I’m a big bitch. Standing at 6’4” and closing in on 200 lbs, I may be gay, but I’m no twink. I don’t take the shit a twink does either. Not anymore.

He immediately realized his mistake, as he got closer to me, and noticed his friends weren’t as close behind him, as he thought. I had passed them quickly, and he misjudged my size, from my distance. I yelled in his direction, “How typical! Call me a fucking faggot! Come beat the shit out of me! Come try at least! Fuck you, and your ignorance!”

I was standing outside “the Sink” on the Hill, and apparently my drunken cursing grabbed the attention of a police officer eating a slice of pizza inside. The short little man finally reached me, and stood on his tip-toes, to try and get in my face. I towered over him, put my hands on his shoulders, and pushed him away, with minimal force. The officer watched as he waddled as quickly as he could.

“Boys, is there a problem here?”

“This fucking asshole is calling me a faggot, and trying to star a fight with me!” I yelled at the officer, but towards the boy, who was getting up from the ground.

The boy tried to lurch at me, but was intercepted by the officer. He then continued to struggle and hassle the officer.

“You fucking asshole faggot! Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled at the pathetic excuse of a man, as I spit at him. The officer yelled at me to get back. I felt this overwhelming wave of confidence, as I turned and walked away, loudly laughing drunkenly.

In retrospect, it wasn’t the most mature route to go: resorting to violence. However, it felt amazing to stand up to someone that had started a scene unprompted. Looking back, it really could have gotten ugly. You never know, he could have had a weapon, and killed me. I could be dead right now, because I don’t put up with intolerance.

And that could have cost me the same fate of Lawrence King: death. What would happen, then?

Suddenly, calling someone that doesn’t live his life fucking and snorting anymore, a (and I quote) “AIDS infested coke-head slut,” isn’t funny. In an instant, that photograph with the words “Tranny” stenciled across my forehead becomes the poster for living a “fearless lifestyle.” “An inspiration” is what you call me, as you tell all your friends about how we spent every moment together, and you respected me so much because I lead my life without thought of what other people said about me, when you were the very one, who started nasty rumors.

I’m not trying to throw a pity party here. I’m trying to open your eyes to the petty things that people say. Everyone that knew of Lawrence King, said they were his friend, and loved him dearly. How can they say that, when they are the very same people that trash his lifestyle, and judge people like him for wearing make up, and being fabulous and fierce?

When did the world wake up, and suddenly become a Gemini?

All I’m saying is that what people say about each other is fucked up.
Especially when you don’t even know them.

”Can you hear them? They talk about us. Telling Lies? Well, that’s no surprise.-“

Matty B.

“Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving”

“I wish I was thirty, flirty, and thriving!” Those were the words that fast-forwarded Jennifer Garner’s character from the prepubescent age of thirteen, to the successful, attractive, “big shot” magazine executive, at the age of thirty, in the movie, “Thirteen Going on Thirty”.

At the end of the movie, she learned that she had treated her best friend wrong, and realized that everything she ever dreamed of was right where she left it: in a huge house in the middle of Connecticut, at the age of thirteen.

Well what happens when your childhood as well as your adulthood, are less than perfect? Why does that tall, skinny bitch get to have an amazing career, a gorgeous boyfriend, and still manage to have that fresh, rested look on her face, in the morning? That’s not happiness you see on her face, it’s a really good MAC foundation and bronzer.

I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, and I was concerned at what was staring back at me. The face was all too familiar: Pale, sickly, exhausted, and full of worry. The difference now, is that instead of me just waking up after a six-day coke binge, I was waking up after six, thirteen-hour workdays.

When I got to school this morning, I was immediately directed to the Financial Aid Department, where they told me I owe them thousands of dollars. After I leave, I walk to a computer lab, so I can apply for loans. I was declined. Then I go back to the Financial Aid Department, and they can’t help me, I have to schedule another appointment. So I do, for next Thursday.

As I sit here and think, I seem to have a revelation: their shit here stinks. I’m the first person in my family to go to college. EVER. Although I LOVE going to school, and I LOVE doing the projects assigned to me, the fact that they are creating all of these obstacles, just because I want to learn is bullshit.

Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Maybe it’s because I have been feeling sick for almost a week, and I just can’t seem to get a good night’s rest.

I know two things: I’ve been jumping through their flaming hoops, like a good little lion, but that is going to stop.

The other?

I need a hug.

Being an adult is just like being a kid. Except now I’m in debt.
*sigh*

You don’t always get what you want. You don’t even get what you need.
Matty B.

That’s The Way We Get By

He told me today that he’s leaving. He’s going to road trip to Chicago, and he doesn’t think he’s going to come back.

I held the phone close to my head, and I dazed out in disbelief. I asked him when he was leaving. He replied,” Tomorrow. …I’m not going to be here for your birthday.” I closed my eyes, and hung up the phone without another word.

When I was 15, had no friends, and was forced to live in his mother’s abusive home, he was there. When I spent the entire day at a school with people that shared a mutual hatred with me, he would come pick me up and tell me it would all be okay. When I couldn’t deal with the world, we’d hide from his mother in the shed out in the back yard, and smoke chronic out of a makeshift bong made out of Styrofoam cups.

When I moved to Denver, and didn’t have a friend in the world, he would drive out to stay with me, to let me know that I wasn’t completely alone.

I shared a bed with my little brother until I was 13, and a room with him until I moved out. For two years, I haven’t had the rejuvenating sleep that I would get from sharing a bedroom. When I moved out, my older brother stepped up, and filled the void that my little brother had left.

When it’s your family, I don’t think you’re allowed to call it an unhealthy co-dependency. When you’re family, it’s called a bond.

While getting clean, he would talk me through long nights. Even if for only a minute, the fact that he was the one person in the world that I knew would answer his phone and talk to me... no matter what happened.

Over the past few months, I haven’t been as available to see him as much as I’d like. With going to school full time, and working two jobs, it’s been tasking. However, we’ve always kept touch. So when he called me and told me he wasn’t coming back, I was absolutely devastated. I still am.

It’s one of those tasking situations that life likes to throw at you, right when you think things are going to be all right. I’ve really prided myself on being emotionally independent for the past few years, and it’s been made very apparent to me how dependant I actually am.

I couldn’t hold the tears in, as “Family” off the Dreamgirls OST started up. It felt I was loosing a leg. It felt like I was loosing a part of me.

My mom says that he’ll run out of money, and will be knocking on my front door begging for a shower and some food in no time. The problem is, is what if he doesn’t come back? What if something happens? He’s not the most responsible man. Almost 21, he’s not even finished with his second year in college, and lives in his van. I love him regardless of his personal decisions. However, I don’t think he’s thought this through completely.

I shower off my emotions, and I step onto the dry carpet. Refreshed and new, I feel empowered. Maybe I don’t need him as much as I thought. You know what? If he wants to run off to Chicago, and never come back, let him.

I put on my face, and flatiron my hair. With every deep breath, I feel myself calm. It’s not like he’s never done this before. I ran away to Mongolia for three months, last summer, missing my birthday. He does this all the time. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I love him, but if I don’t let him make his own choices and mistakes, then how is he going to learn?

Good Riddence.

We found a new kind of dance in a magazine
Matty B.

You Said, You Can’t Change The Way You Feel, But I Can

Everyone had stone cold expressions. No one would make eye contact with me. I was walking through a Technicolor world that had a raging black ink stain. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so calm, so still. I frantically ran in circles around these people, waving my arms screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one made a sound. Not even me. My brothers were sitting next to each other. I ran past them, to see her bloody remains in the open casket. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t they prepared her for the viewing? Why was everyone so lost?

I could feel the beads of cold sweat slowly slide down my face. I was incredibly aware of my surroundings, and the people around me. I run to my brothers, and start shaking them; hitting them; crying. They both look at me with brilliant eyes, and I feel them pull away from me.

They say in unison,” What are you getting so upset about? You hated her. You’ve been wishing for this day your entire life. Everyone knows she hated you more than anything.”

Stunned, I take a step back. Was this what I had wanted? Spending my entire childhood picturing all the horrible things that should happen this wretched woman, finally did. Years later, after I gained my freedom. I start to cry, and run back to the open casket.

My mother looks up at me with a completely blank expression, not unlike how she used to greet me when I was a kid, after disappearing to Central City for weeks at a time. I rest my head on her chest, and my mind just wanders.

I’ve never really come to terms with my childhood. Nor have I ever come to terms with the horrible things that my mother used to do; whether or not it was directed towards my brother and I. As far as I’m concerned, my life started June 19th 2005, when I stood there in the rain, knocking at my cousin Vyckee’s door, holding my cheerleading duffle bag, filled with a few pairs of stained clothing, flip flops, $23.54, and a few photographs of friends and family.

Suddenly I’m standing with a totem pole expression, and I take her hand, and whisper, “I love you”. Her eyes go wide, and she leaps out, grabs my neck, and pulls me into the coffin.

I wake with a start. Third night in a row that I’ve had this terrifying dream, and I’m in the same familiar position as before; wiping sweat from my brow, brushing tears from my eyes, and breathing heavily. I lie back in my bed, and rest my eyes shut.

I’ve been pretending nothing has happened. Whenever something unfortunate happens, I shut it out, and paint a smile on my face. My entire philosophy on life is, “Nobody likes a Debby Downer!” as well as, “If you start the day with a smile, then you’ll finish it with one.”

For the most part, it seems to work. However recently, I’ve been finding that my mind has just been haunted by everything that has happened over the past decade. I believe that if you are going to get anywhere in your life, you have to accept the bad with the good. It seems though, that I’ve just been ignoring the bad, and trying to focus on the good… and that can be an exhausting feat within it’s self.

I sit at the bottom of the shower, and let the heat and pressure cleanse my body, as well as my mind. As time slowly passes, the waves of heat release the pent up emotional baggage that has been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks. I run my hands though my hair, and tilt my head back, to feel the water wash over my face. I slowly breathe in and out, relaxing my body, freeing my mind, and accepting the things that I cannot change about my life, and about myself.

As I towel myself off, I can already feel some weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I lie in my warm, dry bed, and try to think about how I can make tomorrow a better day for myself.

I don’t know if this will be an effective way to ward off these nightmares, but it’s defiantly a step in the right direction. Sometimes you just need to take a moment for yourself, assess your situation, accept the bad with the good, and reassure your optimism through moments of self-reflection.

They say that everyone is looking for that perfect soul mate. Well, I’m just looking for that perfect soul.

How could it hurt you, when it looks so good?”
Matty B.

W.W.J.D? W.W.E.W.D?

It seems that it’s been a rough few weeks for a lot of people. While standing in the print shop today at school, I overheard one of the staff members talking to a friend of hers about how she hasn’t spoken with her dad in almost a week because she told him that she was a lesbian. Right before I finished my cigarette two hours earlier, I over heard a skinny blonde boy talking to his friends about how no matter what he does, he just can’t seem to get his boyfriend to open up to him. [Girl, I hear you.]

Over the past few days, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about everything that has been going wrong in my life: My continuing feud with my roommate, my immense amount of work followed by an abysmal pay, the fact that I didn’t have time to be with the friends and family that I love most, all topped off by the continuous addition of school work that appears to be endless.

When I feel like I need encouragement or motivation, I turn to my true hero: Elle Woods. Although a fictional character of the popular movie, book, and Broadway show “Legally Blond”, I feel that the way Amanda Brown captured the pure optimism of this woman is absolutely inspiring, and can be applied to real-life; my life.

Like Elle, I like to think that no one gets anywhere in life with a shitty attitude. And you know what? We’re right! You’d be very surprised how far a kind word and a friendly gesture can go. You can easily turn someone’s day around with a smile and a compliment. My friends know this. In fact I have two that know exactly what to say, to make me feel better. Unfortunately for me, one is very busy being a fabulous waiter “Hamburger Mary’s”, and the other is quite the drive to visit.

So, What Would Elle Woods Do? Would she bend and snap? How about an exfoliating facial cleanser? Better yet, what does Barbie do when she’s not seeing Ken anymore, She’s been working all day in 6” heels, and it feels like she’s made of cold, hard, plastic?

After my date with Mr. Constrictor, I felt like I was an empty shell of myself. I sat in the cab and thought about the previous night’s events. Flashbacks of him telling me,” You’re so gorgeous, I deserve you. You’re so fuckin’ hot. Get on my bed. Take off your pants.-” were all too overwhelming. Isn’t that what I want? A man who takes control, knows what he wants, who makes good money, and lives in LoDo?

I stood frozen in the shower, absolutely blank. The thought of me lying there expressionless was more than familiar. As I sat on my balcony and smoked a cigarette, I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I still can’t. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me two hours to write an entry.

When does it get better? Ever since I was a kid, everyone I know tells me that it’ll get better. Give it a few years, it’ll be amazing. Well, I’m days from being an official adult, and it has yet to kick in. I’ve missed my entire summer, because I’ve been stressing, working, and attempting to pull my life together enough to get a full night’s rest.
I can’t even enjoy the things I used to, because I’ve been so manic. At least while I was dating Mr.Revenge, he brought be back. Being a complete child wasn’t ALL bad, with him; he still knew how to have fun. He could lie around all day, and not have a care in the world. I can’t even finish a cigarette without thinking about whether or not I’ll have money to buy another pack.

I think I’m a bit over due for a vacation. Perhaps a few personal days. All I know is that I need to get out of my head, and spend more time with people that can make that possible.

Robot, why are you so robotic?
Matty B.

Downtown , Things Will Be Great. Downtown, Every Thing’s Waiting For You

His words were still ringing in my ears, as I try to recap what exactly had just happened. I stared up at the bright blue sky, and as the little wisps of cloud effortlessly moseyed, I blinked a few times, trying a recap why I was lying on pavement, and not walking back to my car.

When you mug somebody, it’s really a hit or miss. Pun intended. I mean, when you walk up to somebody and scream impolitely in their face, demanding that they give you their wallet, you’re really assuming a lot. I think that the amount of thought and observation, should really be quite extensive. Just because I have rockin’ white Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses, “must have” brown Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shell necklace, beautiful shining chocolate hair, and overall projection of success, doesn’t mean I have a goddamn penny to my name. (To be, you must project, right?)

After patting my legs and explaining that the extent of my vast fortunes were the keys twirling on my finger (Chanel keychain and all), we just kind of stood there. I could very clearly see that he had no weapon, and in fact he most likely mustered up this genius plan on a whim. After a few moments of silence, he reached out, pushed me as hard as he could, and I assume he turned to run as fast as his scraggly legs could take him. Being the elongated, tall and lean person I am, I stumbled backwards, and fell over the back of a small cement wall, onto the gravel and pavement below. Thus, staring at the bright blue sky.

A few minutes later I hobbled to the car, where Ashley was jammin’ out to Channel 93.3, and smoking a cigarette. The trigger of my blood soaked left leg, and gash on the side of my right foot, sent her into a howling outrage. As I took one of the towels we were planning to use to sunbathe in the park, and wrapped it around my leg, Ash stormed around looking for the perpetrator.

I settled into my seat, perplexed and dazed; tuning out Ashley telling Danny what had just happened. He was just as phased as I was. Silent. In shock.

I sat in my bathtub and wiped my leg off, cringing with every pat. I kind of smiled to myself in disbelief, wrapped my appendages, and prepared to leave with some dignity. Five bandages and a pair of now-scratched-but-still-just-as-fabulous-as-they-were-an-hour-ago Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses later, I was sitting at the park, drinking a “Mikes Hard Lemonade” and finishing “Everyone Worth Knowing” by Lauren Weisberger.

It’s amazing how friends really show their true colors when they hear of your dismay. Ashley kicked it into high gear, bought gauze, bandages, and some liquor to… ease the pain. She coddled and loved me, making sure I was more than comfortable. I was so embarrassed that something like that could happen to someone like me, but she just washed away my worries, as we clinked our glasses together, and sipped our “Sex on the BETCH’s”. ( I thought it was appropriately re-named)

There was an abundance of incoming calls: My mother, my brother, my mother, Eric, Mehry, my mother, and Rebecca. The last one surprised me a bit. We had been estranged for quite sometime now, and I was pleasantly surprised that she showed genuine concern for my well being. We talked extensively, and I told her of my application to the Art Institute, my moving to Capitol Hill, and a general life update. It’s people like Rebecca, that can really make you smile. What’s unfortunate, is that trusted, better friends, can barely find a moment to shoot a text, then not reply.

So I tucked myself into bed, careful not to bother my very irritated body, but instead of thinking about what had happened that day, I just reminisced about the surprising and wonderful friends I didn’t think I had. I smiled to myself, hugged my pillow a little bit harder, and blinked out a tear, as I fell asleep.

I try to be like Grace Kelly
Matty B.

You Will Lighten Another’s Heart [Lucky Numbers: 2, 38, 42, 17, 30, 28]

My mind has been at a crossroads lately.
I lie there,
In my bed,
Thinking to myself;
Trying to sort out what exactly I want.
For months, I’ve been fretting over Mr.MUSE,
And the less that I talk to him,
The less I see him,
The less I feel him.
It’s interesting,
Because right now
I have the 100% assumption that I am not going to see him today.
And I’m not going to see him tomorrow, either.
It’s like, since this has been realized and accepted,
My mind is at ease.
Since I have absolutely no expectations,
There’s no way to feel let down.

My eyes are frozen open,
My movement robotic.
The sound of Eisley singing about their telescope eyes
Only remind me how vapid my life actually is.
I get out of bed at 8:15am.
I go to work.
I go home at 5:00 pm.
I remove my clothes,
And I lie in my bed,
Eyes frozen open.
Rinse, Repeat.

I can’t even being to try and self-diagnose.
I lie on my back,
Staring up at the ceiling fan,
The red, circular, shag rug
Feels soft against my bare skin.
The world feels like a standstill around me.
Seconds feel like hours.
Days feel endless.
I get off the floor,
And I peer into the mirror,
At my naked, body.
I meet my own stare,
And try to muster up an original thought.
But the same old bullshit is just circulating through my head.
I just..

I wish I had a friend.

The Ten Day Dry Spell

Things have gone from complete chaos, to ready, steady routine.
I received my job at the Realty Company,
And I’ve been working there all week.
It has been absolutely wonderful.
I work as the executive assistant to the company,
And I love it.

I’m making good money,
I am distracted from my grey life,
Things with my family have been going well,
So I should be happy right?

The problem,
Is that although I have a killer job,
Fantastic co-workers,
And a decent amount of money coming in..
..I just don’t have anyone to share that with.
Not a boyfriend, or a male in general,
..not even friends.

I sit at home in my bright red briefs,
Watching Will and Grace re-runs,
While eating crackers and ice chips.
I have an itch,
And it’s not the now-dry face mask,
That I’ve been applying every night.

First,
There’s the itch for sex.
I’m not having it with anyone.
Although I am getting a lot
[and I mean a LOT]
Of offers,
I just feel that I’m over that part of my life.
I need something more.

Second, there’s companionship.
I don’t even have a steady person in my life for me to talk to..
Or even see.
It’s really quite grounding,
And after a long amount of time,
You start to see who your real friends are..
And who aren’t.

More importantly,
You see who cares.
It’s almost every night that I lie in my bed,
Eyes wide open;
Tears running down my expressionless face.

I haven’t sleep a full night in over a month.
The last time I remember sleeping through the night,
Was probably when Mr.MUSE came over..
..and that was many weeks ago,
If not a month.

Speaking of,
He gets back into town today.
He left for Florida to go to Disney Land with his family,
To figure things out.

I haven’t spoken to him in a week,
And part of me feels a sense of relief.
For months,
Everytime I talk to him,
It feels like the last.
I never know if he’s going to choose me,
Or a life alone.

It’s actually quite humiliating.
There’s a two choices:
Being with me,
Or being alone.
And he’s having a really hard time deciding.

Ha. What kind of person am I,
If he chooses to be alone?
How ridiculous would that be?
What, I’d tell my friends,
“How’s David? Oh he’s good.
He’d rather be alone writhing in his own misery,
Than spend time with me.”
Ha. That’s a party joke.

I am incredibly pessimistic,
And as result to all this distance,
It feels like the decision has already been made.

I suppose if he wants to end it,
I wouldn’t feel too much different than how I feel right now.
Alone.
Empty.
Sad.

I’ll just sit back relax,
I’ll just sit back and relapse.

Can't take the kid from the kid, take the fight from the kid
Matty B.

Pessamism?

I've realized that as of today,
right this second,
I have nothing.

I don't have a job.
I'm not going to school.
I don't really have friends.
I don't have a man.
I don't have a car.
I don't have [very much] money.
I don't have any dreams.

Wow.
Now that i put that out there,
it's very real.
It's al little too real for me.
I don't want to deal with it right now.


...
Matty B.

For Christs' Sake!

I'm going to go visit Mr.Buff.
I think a drunken night in Boulder would ease my mind.
This snow is coming down pretty relentless,
and it's pissing me off.
This blog isn't going to make any sense,
and i'm kind of just blabbering about nothing.
I'm going to hop on the bus and head down to boulder.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
G'uhahaw.
I am so pissed.
Fucking everything.

I need to buy a new phone.
I would like to loose some weight.
Fucking skinny hot people.

DAMN IT!
Let's go.
Matty B.

Where'd You Go? [close captioned]

I stopped talking to you.
And i also stopped talk to you.
And you, and you, and you.
What's the point?
I texted you.
I called him.
I called her.

You broke plans.
She blew me off.
He ignored my general presence.

I don't have a cell phone.
What's the point?
I'm a frivolous friend,
and i'm the only person that dials the phone.
Any relationship in life, is a two way street.

So now, when you need it,
I'm not there.
You can't come over in the middle of the night and cry on my shoulder,
You can't call me.
You can't text me.
Huh, you shouldn't have taken me for granted.

[intermission]

People have been really fucked up lately.
No calls.
No emails.
No Comments.

Fuck that.
I have a phone.
only VIP in my life get the number.
My own mother doesn't even have it.

Are you closer than family?
A world of one way minds.
Matty B.

Look At You. Check You Out.

I came home from a long, busy day of work
to find that my roommates had moved out..
COMPLETLY.
I knew that they were moving today,
but i left a house full of life,
and came home to a gutted carcass.
the only thing left was my bedroom,
and a magazine and a cigarette butt in my toilet.

Bye.
Bone to pick.
Matty B.

Look At You. Check You Out.

I came home from a long, busy day of work
to find that my roommates had moved out..
COMPLETLY.
I knew that they were moving today,
but i left a house full of life,
and came home to a gutted carcass.
the only thing left was my bedroom,
and a magazine and a cigarette butt in my toilet.

Bye.
Bone to pick.
Matty B.

Tales of a Teenage Gypsy

Things are not going as planned.
My mother was supposed to sign my lease.
My paychecks are supposed to be bigger.
My life was supposed to start.

When can I call my place home?
Fuck.

Hali-what?
Matty B.