Blood On the Wall

There are things that we do that we know are bad for us, even though they make us extremely happy, so are these bad habits of us really bad? Or do we believe they're bad because that's what we've been raised to believe? I've been pretty happy lately, for no reason. I've had little adventures that I wouldn't wish on anyone but myself, because I'm a little selfish like that. One of these last nights was the best for me, it was like the best days I've had in awhile. It's kinda weird how it takes me a few drinks to be happy sometimes, but that only enhances the experience. Is that bad?


I've come to an end of another personal journey, and it's somewhat bitter-sweet because I'm happy that it's over, but now I'm stuck with the, "now what?" questions all over my mind. What will I do now that I'm getting older? When will I move out of my parent's house? When will I start learning how to drive? When will I start my career? Am I sure I'm pursuing the right career? Do I really want to grow up? Should I just suck dick for money? (jk on the last one!)


I wish I could be more specific but I've learned to hold back. I'm trying to find more ways to be happy within myself, and I'm learning how to be happy with myself, not to get mad at others for petty shit, not to be jealous. I'm teaching myself how to turn a negative into a positive, and not to cut off certain people, but cut off their negative thoughts. A lot of people say a lot of unnecessary elitist comments, and I'm coping with not letting that affect me, because we're all different. If you want to be a lame ass Debbie Downer, go ahead, but don't get mad at me when you see me out there living my life. Or do so, I'll be too busy being happy to notice.

Gone

 Sometimes I wonder if I'm too boring. Sometimes people invite me places and they don't even talk to me after. Maybe I'm just a statue. A moving statue. Why would you want me around and not talk to me? I don't get that. I know I'm shy, but that doesn't mean I'm boring. I have a pretty interesting life, or at least I hope I do. People rarely text me. For once I would like to get a text wishing me a good morning, or an "I hope you have a great day." People seem to hit me up on weekend nights, when they want to find something to do. They treat me as if I'm some sort of a last resort, a sort of party line. What do I know about parties? Nothing.


I know I've made a fool of myself, befriend those I shouldn't have, fallen in lust with the unattainable ones. I'm trying to repair my mistakes, grow from them, but I'm just growing dull. What happened to me? I'm dead.


I met this girl last week. I was a little (or a lot) drunk, and me and this girl seemed to share so much in common. We even danced together. We spent our morning together. As soon as the alcohol was out of my system, I found her really dull, really destructive. She kept on trying to bring me out of my shell. I just met her. What made her think that I was going to open up to her so easily? She kept on asking what made me so shy. I didn't answer. I've been shy for most of my life. What made her think I was going to switch it up like *that*? Maybe that's why people find me boring. I'm not though, I'm really not....

Burritos

 I've been feeling really uninspired lately, so I'll write about something I had in mind all day long: burritos.

I love burritos, I don't know why. Burritos are THE fucking best. Today I was in the bus, heading home, and I just kept on thinking about a long, thick burrito on the tip of my lips. Sometimes I can't take it. My mouth just gets all watery, and I get all anxious thinking about burritos to stick in my mouth. There are days where I sit around and just think about burritos. People think burritos are so easily accessible, but they're really not. Well, they are, but not all the time. What I love about burritos is not only the taste, but the variety. They come in all shapes and sizes. There are days where I feel like I can take on a big burrito, but then there are other days where the small ones do the trick. Sometimes I even feel like taking on two. What can I say, I'm a little adventurous like that! The best burrito I've ever had wasn't big or small, it was somewhere in the middle; the type of burrito that you know you'll enjoy and the thought of it just teases you. I hate waiting for it, but I know it's always satisfy me. When you finally get your hands on it, you can't wait to put it in your mouth, and have that sauce drip all over you. The sauce is the best though! Without it, that burrito would be nothing. I'm getting all wet thinking about it! The best part is after you're done, you just relax, and catch your breath because you know that burrito was the fucking best, and you're all exhausted but it was fucking worth it. I love burritos. Like that.

Drunk

Okay, so I'm over the last boy I wrote about. He's cute, but that's it. I found out he has a girlfriend, and I'm done with guys with girlfriends. Second of all, I said that if I ever were to mess around with him, I would have to do it with his shirt on. There I went with lowering my standards again.


Yesterday, I came across this beautiful boy. Just my type. Light skinned, taller than me, medium length brown hair. He was wearing a white shirt, these slim black jeans, and black Doc Martens! It's like I had hit the jackpot. I was too shy to approach him; when it comes to meeting guys, I'm always shy. I asked my friend to go up to him and tell him I said, "What's up?" So ghetto. So high school. He replied with "I'm a big ladies fan, but thanks anyway." Usually I would be heartbroken over the rejection, but this time I was nonchalant about it. I was proud for at least trying, but if it didn't happen, then it didn't happen for a reason. That day I got some news that made me even happier than any guy could. I even enjoyed an awesome Big Mac by myself at the bus stop. At least I'm progressing with the idea of being alone. Or I'm getting better at fooling myself.


I'm trying to stop drinking. Drinking leads to bad decision making, but being sober is so boring. Although, I'd rather be bored than to put myself in dangerous situations. Or embarrassing ones. It's funny because on Saturday, at the bar, there was a thin, tall, clueless, drunk girl dancing all crazy. She reminded me of Squidward dancing, it was pretty sad. Everyone was making fun of her. Surprisingly, her boyfriend was there with her, seemingly embarrassed to be associated to be with her. My friend Pris, and I, kept at staring at him because he was attractive. He came and sat down next to us and he asked her, "Why are you staring at me?" At first it seemed as if he was trying to flirt, but then he wouldn't stop asking that question. What did he expect her to say? He turned out to be a big douche, which rid him of his attractiveness. We saw the couple fighting outside of the bar afterwards. How sad it looked like to be that girl.


I remember a few years ago, I went to this event in Little Tokyo, and it was one of my favourite places to go to. That place would always get packed, and there was usually a sea of attractive boys there. It was during my fake id days. I went inside to the indoor dance area, and there I saw something I hadn't seen before. A girl fucking a guy in front of everyone. It wasn't a sex show, this was drunk, public sex. People surrounded the couple and they were taking pictures. The girl was obviously too drunk to shoo anyone away. The show got boring so I headed outside. An hour later, I see the girl being dragged away by her girlfriends. I felt bad for her. That's one of the reasons I'm trying to stop drinking. I don't want to end up being "that girl." I know I talk like her, but I'm not her. Some of the situations I've gotten myself into end up in regret, but luckily there was no one there to take pictures.

What We Do is Secret

It’s been a long while since I’ve sat down and written. I had stopped because my blogs would interfere with my personal life, and it became a burden, but lately I’ve decided that I shouldn’t give a shit, because I have never lied, nor will I ever lie, about anything. 

So I recently come to the sad conclusion that perhaps I am a cougar. This all started a few weeks ago, but I came to the conclusion last night. I’ve been really getting tired of hanging out with my circle of friends. Everything has become so routine, and at the end I get nothing out of it. Drugs and alcohol can be fun for so long, but it’s time to stop. I’m tired of being alone, I’m tired about worrying about others who don’t care about me. Thursday night came along, and I got an invitation to go to the L.A. Artwalk. It was alright, a bunch of pretty faces that you admire from a distance. Then I got an invitation to a slumber party with people I go to school with. I’ve never partied with them before and I realized that new people might bring new fun, so I went along. As soon as I arrived, my friends greeted me with shots. We go to the basement (Yes, they have a basement) and we start drinking some more. I was interested in my friends gay brother, but he was there with his boyfriend, so he had to get crossed off my list. I’m trying this thing where I don’t want to mess with someone who is taken, whether it be by a boy, or a girl. What’s the point? They’ll never leave them nor care for you as much as they care for them.

My friends were all making out with each other, or attempting to, and the only one left was this Shrek-like character. “So we’re the only ones left,” he said. I gave an awkward smile, hoping to keep things that way. I just kept on drinking, since alcohol was clearly my only option that night. Then this 18-going-on-19 year old, who was making out with my (girl)friend said, “Anderson, come here and kiss me!” I didn’t know if he was joking, but I wanted some action so I went in, but he pulled back and said “Just kidding.” You have no idea how many times that sad joke has been pulled on me. You also have no idea how many times I end up making out with the guy who pulls that joke after. I poured myself a drink of Bacardi, he pulls it out of my hand and chugs it. It was a disgusting sight. He gets up and goes outside to go throw up, then he comes back in and passes out by me. So this ugly Shrek-like thing goes up to the 18 year old and tries to do things with him. 18 then hugs me and tells everybody, “Leave me alone, I’m only gay for Anderson tonight, but only because I go to school with him!” He hugged me for a good while, and it felt good. I always thought he was cute but I never really thought about doing things with him, after all, I’m trying to leave that part of my life behind. Shrek still kept on going after him and I was like “Leave him alone! He’s mine for the night!” It felt good to have a little boyfriend for the night, since I haven’t had an actual boyfriend for 2 and a half years now.

So we had to take 18 to bed because he was too drunk, and we lay him down, and the girl he was making out with previously, was laying down next to him. I knew they were just friends, so I wasn’t jealous or anything, plus she’s no competition. She could have him if she wants, I just think he’s cute and that’s it. He wanted to go back outside but we kept on saying “No”. I was standing on the side of the bed, and then he’s like “Andy, come lay down next to me” then he grabs my hand and pulls me on top of him. I lay down next to him, and he starts hugging me again, and it felt so fucking good! I haven’t cuddled like that with a guy in a long ass time. Next thing you know, Shrek comes along, and tries to grab his dick, while I’m right there next to him. I put my leg on top of his crotch and I told the scavenger, “Hey leave him alone! I said he’s with me” to which he says, “I just want to have fun!” Luckily he walked away after; he got the hint. It was time to go to sleep, and he passed out on the floor. I wanted to sleep with him but I wanted to sleep on the bed, which thinking about it, I should have slept on the floor because my friends were getting it on right next to me. I prayed to Jesus (no I didn’t) to not let me do anything stupid, such as get on the floor, and get on top of 18, and thankfully I didn’t. I like that I’m learning how to control my urges. 

The morning was beautiful, I woke up to rain fall, and the couple that had slept next to me was gone. 18 woke up and got in bed with me, and we started talking. It was a really nice conversation. He started telling me about how he hates homophobia and how there’s this one guy in our class who was talking about me behind my back and how he stuck up for me. I was so flattered by it, I wanted to kiss him, but I’m not the one to pursue the first move. I started talking about my experiences with homophobes, but it was a little too emotional, and I wanted to secretly cry, so I moved my head to the opposite direction and pretended to fall asleep. Later on, he told me he was cold and that I should hug him, but I told him he should hug me. We only hugged for a little bit. It felt nice. 

I try to go for older guys, but I believe this is the youngest guy I’ve ever felt something for, and the wisest. He can be immature, but the morning talk we had showed a lot of substance, which was like an awakening, a certain difference from the pack of losers I’ve messed with. I felt like I was sixteen again. I felt happy. The only problem is that I don’t know how he’ll act on Monday when I see him, and whether or not to pursue something since he does label himself as “straight”.