You know, sometimes it’s hard to get along with some people. Sometimes it pulls your sanity off or pulling your levers down. What I feel about it? I feel like there’s a barrier in front of me that only wants some certain people to get into me. I feel like my self is one big tea-pot and my soul is inside waiting for hands to get my attention. Maybe a genie feels the same way. Or I am feeling them. Or it’s just me. I hope not.

Is it too late? I’m not sure.

It’s hard for some people who experienced introversion since they were young. Sexuality most of the times affects it. Secondary things like ideas affect that sanity too. I’m afraid that at some point I am locking myself away from good people and choosing some others that naughtily wipes my hard pot: aggressively.

I’m an introvert at some point that I don’t go out from my room, stay there listen to music and write and write and write… It takes hold of my personality, making me imagine people by the characters I made. And what scares me? Is that I’ll find out someday that I’m just in a coma figuring out a way on how to escape my lethal dystopic world. And I need people to hold my hands away from that chasm.

My name is Reymart. I love Alexander as my second name. And I want to be called K-Mart. For all you know, I find it quite fascinating. I don’t have a “god” blood in me that I can say that somehow I am a demi-god. Fiction is fiction, and I put fiction to life.

Don’t think, even once or twice or how many times you multiply it, that I am making a story out of these feelings. I am in the middle of my draft titled “The Clandestines”. It’s post apocalypse so maybe you won’t like my taste. So this article is not a book or a novel or something else. Maybe something else. Anyway, I’m here to express my bottled emotion. I have to do this. I have to survive. Somehow, I know there is hope.

There are young adults around like me. They are shy to interact well, though at some point they are trying their best to join’em. I’m afraid of comments, intimidation, and sarcastic physical contact. Whatever that latter means to you. I’m afraid of judgments. Even afraid of the Bible’s Judgment Day. Well, there is the key word “judgment”. Everyone in my case is always afraid of that word. You know why. I don’t want to forgo that word any further because it will take another wasted page for it.

Okay, judgment. It affects us impartially. For all you know, it affects us deeper than a stab of a murderer’s knife. I’m afraid of how people look at me, on how they want to exclude me from the picture of their sociable affiliates. It brings upon a strike of Zeus’ lightning bolt inside me, and Posiedon’s steadfast tsunami, and the worst of nightmares Hades’ can give to a mortal. I’m afraid that people choose standard based friendship, customary agenda in their peer. Sometimes I am afraid that I am not that fit in a status quo.

But, fortunately, I think a thousand times before grabbing a dramatic length of blade and slash movie-like lines on my wrist. But it won’t end there. I know better. There will come a time that you would. And as a crime/thriller/apocalypse genre enthusiast, it would be easy…when primal feelings replace sanity.

I was bullied when I was in grade school. Two years in a row with a guy still having his mark inside the wall of my skull. It had been bad for me, and I’m happy I overcame such lousy theatrical TV show of my life. When I reached High-School things became of sophisticated-ly chaotic. There were stuffs like men loving men, lusting over them like a nail to a wood. You know what I mean. And “gay” topic spreads inside me like wildfire and it gets me confused like a hungry coyote in a Texan desert. I am gay, and I accepted it after two years that I was in high school. It was a fascinating transition for me, but I learned so much that I accepted myself as me. I started having crush with guys before, and one time and still fell in-love with a guy that looked like the younger Harry Potter. His name is Russell. He was my first love. Laughing out loud!

Gender affects this problem. And for an introvert like me, it kills. Okay, clarification. I am an introvert in a way that I know I’m still here. It’s just that, it builds barrier from people. I don’t know if it means protection, like condoms, or it just only builds up prison bars and all. If this world is infested with zombies (The Walking Dead), I could be hiding well. Haha.

Yes, it’s hard. College helps me gain friends, but not much, just a few of them. I feel like I need to go out more. I know that most of it is my fault for being so tolerable, but I don’t know. Shyness overwhelms me. Most likely, how people see me as me.

But, you know. I’m still here. I just want to express my gratitude to those people who really appreciate my company for anything with no such distinctive lines in having friendship. I won’t promise something, I just want to live a life with no such dystopic darkness. So far, I can’t say that my bottled emotion is breaking. But most of it I would thank my boyfriend for holding it still with both hands. I love you Connor Lenorman for being there. I love you.

And to my friends who really thinks I’m okay. I love you too.