The game.

All the passionate music I loved.

All my books, poems, and stories.

Every image projected onto a screen,

or beamed inside my home.

All great men and women in history.

   Every President.

   Every soldier.

   Every doctor.

   Every scientist.

   Every policeman.

   Every man of the cloth.

All my role models.

Anyone successful.

Anyone admired and respected.

Anyone I looked to for guidance and support.

Anyone who was loved.

Each kiss.

Each caress.

Each embrace.

Each dance.

Each marriage ceremony.

Every waking moment in time,

and every dream.

As a child,

and as a rapidly maturing boy.

All my life...

every image,

every message,

each law, rule, and precept...

each subtle innuendo,
each shrewd allusion,

every well meaning
and loving word of advice...

reinforced what I believed myself to be.

Defective.

And sick,

and abnormal,

and unworthy.


I didn't want to exist.

Without an authentic future.

Without truth.

Without love.

Without being like...
everyone else.


I thought,
"Even if I don't feel the same way other men do,
I can pretend I do. One day I'll change if I try hard enough...
and wait."

But, hearing the words hurt so much.
They echoed in my head,
and ate away at my heart.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Maybe it's me... don't you like me?"

"I am I doing something wrong?"

"Why are you mad, Chuck?"

"What can I do to make it work for us, Chuck?"

"I love you so much, Chuck.
I wish you felt the same for me."


This cruel game I played with myself

went on

and on...