Thursday, April 15, 2010


i entangled myself into jane eyre, then soon found myself ensnared in a novel entitled finding grace. it was as if some cosmic energy meant for me to read finding grace immediately following jane eyre. it was amazing, to say the least. a breath of fresh air.

i'm doing okay. my outlook on things is still quite bland, but i have a shimmer of hope, guiding me from somewhere beneath me. twelve days until my birthday. having much trepidation about it this year. its not like its the big 3-0, or anything. i don't know. right now i feel as though i'm just skating by on grace, and hanging on by a wing and a prayer.

Friday, April 9, 2010


Today I’m feeling very depressed. Upon my research, I saw a note in the symptoms of Holt-Oram Syndrome that was called “Psychological Morbidity.” What in the fuck is this shit? Could this be why I have chronic and clinical depression? That it is attributed to this syndrome, as opposed to an alcoholic abusive father who loathed me from the second I was spat into this world?
I don’t know what to do to pull myself out of this hole. The world is gray. Gray skies. Gray outlook on life. I have no hope. I’m not suicidal, don’t misconstrue my words. But I do not dream of goals for myself. I see nothing in my future. I am one of 100 or so people in this universe with this thing (being that the geneticist confirms it.) It has taken away the one hope of having children, which was my dream. That dream, like my heart when I was born, has a hole right through it. I just feel like I am at a standstill in my life and I absolutely despise it.
I don’t know if this is a product of my depression or if this is my devastation taking hold to me like white on rice. I don’t know what to do with my life, with myself, with my future. Del said to write. Well I’m writing. I’m pouring the feelings out of me as tea from a pot. I was born with said hole in my heart, however, I still feel as though I’m not whole. And I haven’t the foggiest as to what to do to rectify this situation.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


Its been a while since I’ve written, and for that I apologize. I’m still settling into this singlehood and am loathing every blasted moment of it. I had this first date with this supposed “soft butch,” who smoked reefer like my Grandma chain smoked cigarettes. Seriously. That most definitely goes down in the handbook of worst first dates EVER.

My depression and anxiety have taken hold to me like Blanche to a new Marine in uniform. I’m actively trying to cope with this thing. I was also diagnosed with high blood pressure. However, because of my “disability,” medical staff have always had to take my blood pressure via a leg cuff. A trip to my pediatric cardiologist this week spawned a new idea; to use a newborn arm cuff on my left arm. And whadoyaknow, my bp was pretty much normal. Said trip to the pediatric cardiologist yielded perhaps a final diagnosis as to what all of my birth defects is. Its called Holt – Oram Syndrome. Quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me. This means that I’d pass it down to my children. I’m exploring my feelings on this.

I contacted a celebrity that I know asking him what direction to go in, because he is a fantastic writer/director/producer. My idol. Del Shores is a beautiful man. My being gay or straight or bi doesn’t matter; he is beautiful. He said to write. So here I sit, writing. A newfound friend told me I needed to peel back the layers of the onion of myself. However, to realize that the outside is the same as the inside; its still an onion. That means I’m going to cry. Damnit to hell, as my Grandma says. Anyways, I bid you goodnight. I am alive, my fellow bloggers.