Confessionals and Sanctuaries

Confessionals. Those places where you could say your dirty little deeds in the prescence between the Big Man Upstairs and his other right-hand man: the Priest. It is a really easy process, being able to vent about your day and your transgressions, then close the door behind you, say some Hail Mary’s, and carry about your day. I am not sure if it is the relief that you get with releasing those deeds off your chest, or if you have made yourself better by talking to the mortal mediator on the other side of the confessional. But either way, you feel the compelling relief of emotions and have the ability to put it all behind you as you start it all over again.

Instead of trekking my way to the nearest Catholic Church to making myself feel better, why not make my peace in the best way that I know how: writing.

I want to confess something, because I have spent a major part of my life being angry because no one can follow through with things and keep promises like I can. I hate saying that, bragging about the one thing that I am good at, but I always expect certain people to meet me halfway, and it is in times when they fail do I realize this harsh truth: to err is human.

Previously on EVOLutions:
I told Riddick I never wanted to talk to him again because he only wanted to be friends when I wanted something more.

It’s funny how God will allow me to be angry for a while then tell me to calm the fuck down and get over it, because within the past 24 hours, I have been experiencing signs. I was given three signals to get over my horrible end with Riddick. To finally right my wrongs and stop being bitter just because I fell for my own trap.

The first sign took place as I was leaving the car the night before. Perhaps it was the mixture between coffee smell, my sweat, and the grapefruits and avocadoes I left in my car while I was working out; but in any case, I got a familiar smell. The smell that took me back to Riddick’s apartment. Sitting on his amazingly comfortable couch and watching a two-hour marathon of Family Guy while ridiculing each other about our musical mishaps; eating Chipotle while sitting on his cat-fur-laden carpet and talking about our day; and accidentally getting cum on his couch. It was that smell that brought me back to times when I could finally give a genuine smile after all the heartbreak that I had endured. I was finally able to forget about the incredibly bad day at work and just go to my Happy Place. But only when the smell went away did those flood of memories escape me.

It was on my way to work when I witnessed my second sign. I was driving in the early morning. My exhalations emitting a morning-breath condensation as I was driving in the cold. It was two seconds after I glanced at my clock, noticing I was going to be three minutes late to work, that I encountered it. I was driving behind an elderly couple going twenty-five miles on a forty-five mile zone—I still have yet to find out why they drive so damn slow. Moments before realizing that driving behind them at fifty miles an hour was not a good idea, I noticed they had Ohio license plates. This ejected me from my current state of mind into becoming pensive about the times I had with Riddick once again. The time that he would annihilate me at pool while drunk; then to the time when he introduced me to a So Co with lime and gin tonics, then to texting him at the club and leaving to go to his place only minutes after paying full cover and waiting fifteen minutes in line to get in at my favorite club. I sped past this elderly couple as I noticed they had a McCain sticker on their bumper.

I was talking to my friend Sam about my day I was having so far. Discussing the signs I was seeing around me and wondering if I should text Riddick when that final sign came, almost prompting my cue to text him at that moment. A BMW pulled out of its parking spot to reveal a Mazda Miata staring me back at me. Chris drove a Miata. I wonder how he’s doing. I thought to myself.

It was at this moment that I felt like God had bitch-slapped the anger that I was holding inside me to realize that I was indeed hurt, but that should be no excuse to be a bitch and classify our friendship as being second-place.

Yes, I can admit that realizing a man’s feelings for me were not as much as I had anticipated. But then I had an epiphany: why should I always turn into a bitter black woman when someone does not meet my expectations? Looking back at the blogs that I would write after I broke it off with Riddick, I felt like I was starting to give up on everything. Because I really want my life to move forward like everyone else.

Jeff has his boyfriend Joel. Sam is developing a relationship with a girl that lives miles away. My graduating class is making three times the amount that I do. Watching everyone’s life progress forward while I am still stuck in the Molasses Swamp is painful to endure; but every person I have conversed with on this matter has given me this exact same form of encouragement. I am a young guy that is still growing up and learning how, as my friend David put so adamantly: “[to] walk on my own two feet. Whether it be emotional or psychological.”

So after sitting outside of my gym and slamming down an energy drink, did I finally go through the contents of my old phone and find Riddick’s number. My palms got all sweaty as my fat thumbs typed in the letters: “Hey Riddick. It’s Pablo. How have you been?” I felt like it was taking five minutes just to write a couple sentences. But only when I sent the text message did I wonder if he was going to write back or not. I tabled that thought as I entered the gym, put on some Madonna, ran four and a half miles, lifted some weights, and checked out some hot straight guys.

Although I have never been inside a confessional, I am positive that they do amazing things. They give you a place of solitude to truly express yourself, a place to be able to take off the mask you are showing everyone to reveal the true battle scars of life. In a way, I feel like writing on a blank page is my own sanctuary. It gives me the opportunity to write something new on a blank piece of white. To make a wrong a right and to give penance where penance is due.

Sure, we have to pay penance for some of the deeds that we have done; in a way, we all say our Hail Mary’s at some point. Whether it be in a church, or to someone that we have wronged. But once we feel like we have gained their trust back—which I am skeptical I can do at this point with Riddick—do we understand that we can finally repair the damaged that we have caused.

It was not until after I got back home did I receive a reply. Just the simple: “Great! How are you?” gave me chance to put away my rosary, and continue my day. Because quite honestly? God was right. I did need to fucking get over it.

Evolution's a Bitch

We can never be fully accustomed to our bodies as we age. We begin this life not understanding that the pain going on inside of our mouth is teething as an infant. Then later on in life, just when we get used to our youth do we begin to experience the dropping of our voice, or the sudden growth of those D cups you always dreamed of in your adolescent years. Then we have a mid-life crisis. Bringing us to understand that our penis doesn’t get as hard as it used to, or that we aren’t getting any younger and think to ourselves: why not do that secretary? Or in the woman’s case: am I really ever going to be attractive to find the One?

The same can be said to our emotions. As our sex hormones kick in the moment we get into Junior High (a.k.a. The Dark Ages), we begin to understand the Laws of Attraction, then we begin to realize that someone can actually like us and that we can find a way to commit ourselves to someone. We can never become fully comfortable with ourselves until it’s too late.

I feel like I date guys that are emotionally retarded. They really don’t know what they want in life but will fuck something until that opportunity arrives. Let’s look at example Riddick, the last month-long trick. Using those excuses like: “I am only looking for friends”; however, he will fuck my ass and my emotions anytime.

Then we have Mike, a guy that was definetly not a boyfriend because was too emotionally unstable to be around. It was like he made every opportunity to cry so he could feel better about himself. I will admit, I do have my emotionally weak moments, but I pick myself up and am strong again. This guy had the tearing-up stability of a waterfall. The tears were almost always flowing. He would spread it to me and started to hurt me and would often try to break down my emotional wall by saying really sensitive things, but I just deflected them and moved on.

Finally, let’s take a gander at Jeff, my best, my first, my favorite, and my always-question relationship. It seemed like I was so immersed in my own love for this guy, I did not see that he really didn’t love me as much in return. He was not really knowing what he wanted in life, but fucked me and told me sweet-nothings to keep me beside him.

But then again, maybe I can maybe just be in a really bad mood at the moment?

I don’t know, but I am not liking the guys around my age. They are still trying to understand who they are as they are fucking away brain cells. They really aren’t used to adulthood but enjoy exploring this new territory. Granted, I am not innocent either, but at least I know who I am, I have that advantage. I feel like I can never relate to people around my age, because I got used to talking to adults when I was homeschooled. One of the very few advantages to homeschooling. Now that I am surrounded by people my age, I feel like I can never be fully understood because some of them haven’t dealt with the shit I deal with on a regular basis.

Growing up, there always seemed to be some major drama going on in the spiritual and emotional challenges in my life. It was hard, but God would always grant me wisdom and the strength to kep going. It is obvious that God has a major plan for me, I just really wished He would hurry up and start making me amazing or into a superhero. Because I could really use a my force field ability right about now….

But seriously, I am not enjoying this evolution of my emotions. They are sometimes really painful and can slow everything else down. I am still hurt by the events in this past month. Realizing that I am making stupid mistakes and beating myself up over them. Sure, they are going to make me stronger, but can I at least have a break like everyone else?