"If no appointment was made, it would mean the answer was no."
-What is the What, p. 394
So since in the past few days, for some of you at least, I had been relating this story about my pursuit of this boy I have a crush on, Rich, it seems only right to conclude the story, to provide the denouemnet as it were. Wednesday evening, he told me that he would call me Thursday. That didn't happen and the sight of my phone whenever I would look at it would cause me such anxiety. Waiting for someone to call you, as small and as non an action as it may seem, is such a painful thing to endure, the moods and emotions that you go through. It is even more frustrating perhaps that it is a phone, this inanimate thing, that you are waiting for to come to life, like trying to bend a spoon with your mind. Friday came and no call on that day either. Nor on Saturday. Nor today. I left a message on his machine minutes ago asking if he wanted to hang out today, and that was my last try. Maybe he will call, though I have a feeling he won't. How a boy I don't know has this ability to inflict such chaos over my emotional state really bewilders me. I can very easily recognize how illogical it is, and yet can do nothing to prevent its occurence, my sadness at a boy not being interested in me.
Brent Everett fucking Brent Corrigan though does provide some comfort to me and the sight of the two of them together is a bright shining light that prevents anything else from exisiting in this world, and those moments while I am jacking off to the two of them together in Schoolboy Crush are lovely moments exactly because of their isolation from any sort of reality other than that moment watching that recorded moment. But then I cum, and there's the problem of disposing of semen encrusted newspapers and that normally brings me back.
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