Closeted
We die everyday. The moment we step out of our houses, we become sensitive to how the world will see us. We mute our colors and hide the mannerisms that could betray us. We try as hard as possible to be inconspicuous in our words and actions. We look for nuances of what makes a man straight and so we stifle our tendencies and inclinations in order to be like them. We call the men bro or dude or whatever sounds manly in the offices that we work in.
In this age of oversharing, we can no longer disguise our dalliances and romances in gender-neutral pronouns. When everything is posted on social media, we find it unwise to say we are in a relationship when no proof could be seen anywhere. So we don't talk about our lovers until they're in the past. Or else we hide them in platonic relations, as best friends and roommates or some other nonsexual variations. Worse, we act like they're strangers to us when we see them outside. We deny them as we deny ourselves.
We say our work occupies our time. Who has time for love? But when our heart breaks, it goes into a vacuum, like there's nothing at all. We keep the appearance of strength in the face of anguish. We bury our pain, until we could feel no more. We kill ourselves beyond the point of recognition, because we could not reconcile who we are to the rest of the world.
At the end of the day, we are spent. Drained from the life we are living. Some of us retreat into our solitary corners to gather ourselves. Others retreat into the corners of dimly lit bars, where people like us gather to feel alive. When the music plays and the crowd roars, we feel the beat pushing us into the dance floor. And like a fading diva bound for a comeback, in the darkest of nights, we flourish and we are resurrected to our true selves.
(January 2015)
In this age of oversharing, we can no longer disguise our dalliances and romances in gender-neutral pronouns. When everything is posted on social media, we find it unwise to say we are in a relationship when no proof could be seen anywhere. So we don't talk about our lovers until they're in the past. Or else we hide them in platonic relations, as best friends and roommates or some other nonsexual variations. Worse, we act like they're strangers to us when we see them outside. We deny them as we deny ourselves.
We say our work occupies our time. Who has time for love? But when our heart breaks, it goes into a vacuum, like there's nothing at all. We keep the appearance of strength in the face of anguish. We bury our pain, until we could feel no more. We kill ourselves beyond the point of recognition, because we could not reconcile who we are to the rest of the world.
At the end of the day, we are spent. Drained from the life we are living. Some of us retreat into our solitary corners to gather ourselves. Others retreat into the corners of dimly lit bars, where people like us gather to feel alive. When the music plays and the crowd roars, we feel the beat pushing us into the dance floor. And like a fading diva bound for a comeback, in the darkest of nights, we flourish and we are resurrected to our true selves.
(January 2015)
the many masks we wear to survive a single day.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this..
We wear them every day and take them off when the day is over. And on some nights we wish that when we take them off, there'd still be someone standing there to see us for who we are and love us anyway. Happy New Year, D. :-)
DeleteOh how I love this! It reads like a prologue to a novel I'd devour one cold Saturday night. Please tell me the heartbreak is a memory and not something that's come around the ber months. Otherwise, I'd be very worried about what has happened to you.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this as a sort of Greek chorus of closeted gay men. If you've read David Levithan's Two Boys Kissing (if you haven't, read it! hahaha) I made it sort of like the chorus of dead gay men in that book.
DeleteThe heartbreak is a memory. A long ago memory when I was way too deep in the closet.
We're old enough to have a lot of memories to draw from in what we write. We've worn too many shoes and hats and lives that it's not hard to imagine a life different from the one we're living now. :-)
Ooh will check that out. I've read some of his other stuff. A short story collection (whose name escapes me now) was quite the treat so thanks for recommending!
DeleteOh my, I have to follow you! Haha! :D
ReplyDeleteThere were days where I always think why society has to be like this? Why people has to hide who they are when they can be themselves?
This is also the reason why I don't believe in labels, I don't believe someone is gay, bi, straight, etc. because I don't like categorizing someone into something they don't feel comfortable with. Most of the time, I feel that it kills them. :D
You nailed this, Angel. Well, next to Splice and Dice :D Hope to read more from you. :D
Because it's not always easy to be just yourself, especially when you're not even sure who that "self" is. ;)
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