Darryl

Sometimes I feel like my heart is a long hallway with every door locked. Locked by “gross,” “humiliating,” “unsafe,” “bitter,” or just in chastity. Exploring this lifestyle feels like unlocking those doors one at a time, except I guess for the last one.

think we sort of live in a world where to be truly grown up means not having any friends, you just eat, drink, sleep, fuck, work, that’s what being a man is. I’m exempt from a lot of it because of my inheritance, which is maybe what lets me be such a sissy. But the dog doesn’t care, he’s just glad to have a place to go and someone to be with.

He seemed to be courting the most dangerous aspects of any place he passed through,

But maybe I shouldn’t think of it as “being gay,” maybe I should think of it just as doing something.

He’s above the law the way I’m above the economy.

desperate to convince me of something, or maybe to convince herself of something.

think the thing that ultimately isolates him is that he isn’t traumatized. When you see blood, you’ve got to show everybody that you’re shaken up, even if you aren’t. But Clive is never shaken, and I think that makes people see him as a monster, even when he’s the victim.

His death opened a door that I no longer had the energy to walk through.

I’d never write that. I’d write, “Sincerely,”