Since most of my hardships are related to feeling isolated and hurt, I suppose I should begin with the first person I fell for when I moved into the big city but I could never bring myself to truthfully love, which is what he deserved and thus why it had to come to an end. However, unlike most of what will follow, I was honestly the only person to blame in relation to Sam’s broken heart. It sounds pompous to claim that I hurt him that much but I know that I did, and it is far from my proudest moment. Still, let’s begin at the start of this particular segment of my story.

Sam was an interesting kind of person. Older than myself by a few years but rather immature for his age, I can’t say that I found it wholly adorable or even barely but I acknowledged his faults and accepted them. Most would do this for love yet I did it for an entirely different reason and one that is almost unforgivable. I was lonely and bored, the latter more so than anything. I was twenty one years old at the time, but I was mature for my age and promiscuous, disgustingly so but we do these things when we first get into a world that isn’t  as secluded as the small country villages that we came from. Strangely, despite leaving home I was still living with my mother, Maria, but she was in a new relationship herself and spent a lot of her time attempting to balance this life with her mothering of myself and my brother, Dylan. She tried her best but, being someone so incredibly needy, I quickly felt alone and isolated from everyone I had known. I met Sam online. He messaged me and like anyone who can be slightly narcissistic, I was happy to receive any compliments that I was given. Bi-lingual and well-traveled, he was someone who intrigued me initially and I did not set out with the intention of hurting him as much or as frequently as I did.

Indeed, our relationship began as honourably as any with a first date. Coffee. It’s the universal pastime, or so it would seem given how many of my dates have involved in the drink.

I was far from the best as boyfriends go but I did genuinely care for him as a person even if it didn’t develop into love in that sense. He’s someone that I still care about, as a friend. Sam was the type of boy that anyone could wish for. He was kind, caring and attentive. However, he could also be smothering in all of these attributes and I felt under tremendous pressure to establish myself when I was with him. At the time I had fallen into a journalism course. My exams had not gone well and I felt I had no other choice but to join my friend Greta, from back home, in attending classes at a local technical college. I was unhappy in my course and working part time in a small convenience store with little prospects. As well intentioned as Sam’s attentiveness was, I found myself easily irritable. It wasn’t long after I had met his father, who had been absent for a substantial portion of his life and was attempting to make major amends, that things almost came to a head. He took me to a sports game and it was one of the better dates I’ve had thus far but it wasn’t enough to save what was falling apart.

I would end the relationship shortly after this. For the first time at least.

The journalism course didn’t last very long. Greta dropped out. I hated short hand so much that I quickly followed, although it was inevitable given that I had played truant for the majority of my time as an enrolled student. Is it any wonder I never make progress? I’m almost the most self destructive person that I know. I was still living with my mom when my resolve broke and I got back into my relationship with Sam. However, by this point we were living with her partner, Tony and his young son, Jacob. Jacob has Downs Syndrome. Despite not falling in love with him, I did feel comfortable with Sam and my family, new and old, loved him. I brought him home to meet my grandmother, aunt and oldest cousins, who are like sisters to me, and he would be very present in my life. There were times he would simply come over and help me mind Jacob when the parentals were out on the town for a night of stress relief. Realistically when I look back, it’s almost as if he moved in.

Yet, I needed someone who was more emotionally mature. It all came down to one incident, horrible as it may seem, when I realised that there was nothing about the relationship that made me want to stay there. It came after I had started a second part time job, a nightclub, and it was a high pressure position given how my specific supervisor was a complete douche with a messiah complex. The less said on him, the better. Still, I was doing my best to work too jobs and spend time with Sam. It was all honky dory, more or less, until he got sick. It was a migraine and I sound harsh for how I feel on the subject but there was no need for the dramatics that followed. He was a lovely man but he was a cry baby to the extreme. His head may have hurt but it required two days of bed rest and me skipping one of my shifts to get him over it. It was too much and I was too young to sign up for it. I also realised that he needed someone who loved him and if I continued onwards for my own selfishness, which was receiving little enjoyment anyway, I was only hurting his chances of meeting that person. I waited for him to recover and then we had a very serious, amicable, talk.

It had been eight months of a relationship by the time I finally called it quits once and for all.

I’m happy knowing that Sam is happy with his life. He has a job, a home and a boy to share it all with and that’s something that really means a lot to me looking back. He deserves to be happy.


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It’s kind of weird to find myself writing a journal as I’m really not that type of guy. I play things out in my head because I can be, and have frequently been described as, needy and hyper emotional. It’s too my own detriment really. Things play out in my head like they’re a movie and to that end, they normally end badly or I get so affected by them. I fall apart frequently but hey, I’m working on it and what more can a guy be expected to do. I’m twenty two, at the minute, and prone to rash decisions. Who leaves their job without securing a backup? I mean, honestly. I have a good life. I have good friends and an excellent and supportive family that I can turn too at any time. My main problem is that, as emotional as I am, I don’t like to talk about things. I feel like spreading my problems and feelings on others makes me weaker than I should be. It’s idiotic I know. I’m trying hard to rectify that but I do this weird thing that has been described as “my big defence thing”. I shrug off people that try to help. It just makes me feel odd. That’s who I am to a tee. So, now that we’ve got that outta the way we can continue.

My life is not terribly exciting so if anyone should stumble across this and hope for an epic tale, best hit escape now. I live a standard life which has for the last year or so been full of drama. Self-inflicted or otherwise. I’ve had amazingly supportive friends around me but I live in a city far from most of them and those I do have are often preoccupied with work or life, not that they don’t make time for me. I simply don’t like to intrude when they have so much going on already. There may be excerpts out of sequence, a lot of what I’m going to write about has already happened. Some parts will seem like they have massive gaps, as the difficulties I’ve had were mainly months apart and only converged ever so slightly before I was forced to re-evaluate what I had wanted. I’ll do the best I can to catch up to where I am as of today, and the hurt that has caused me to start writing this. There will be similarities to television shows like MTV’s Awkward but I was not inspired by that, not wholly at least. I’m just trying to vent.

I have a substantial amount of interests. I’m a typical gay boy, to a certain extent as I’m probably straighter acting than most but I’ve been told you can still tell. I’ve probably gotten worse since spending eighteen months working in a gay bar, which for the purposes of this journal we’ll simply refer to as The Gaybar. I’m a hopeless romantic, which is the chief trouble I often get into but I would reiterate I don’t manage to get into these situations on my own despite how quick I am to take the brunt of the blame. I’m a country boy from Ireland but let’s not get to involved as to where just yet. Just so I seem somewhat more relatable, if I’m not already, I’ll make clear some of my favourite things. My favourite live action film is Stand By Me and my favourite animation is The Last Unicorn, and has been since I was a child much to the chagrin of my mother. I make a mean pasta dish but I rarely have the patience to feed myself properly. I also have a love of tea, or as I would call it tae, and it is the only thing that I have about me that could be considered at all British and I’ll say that much now. I watch a lot of television and live like an episode of One Tree Hill, but I’m actually quite a ground and sociable person. I also write in my spare time and hope to one day be a doctor, if I ever get the money together for a course I hope to undertake in September.

I’m just going to write and see where it takes me. I’ll try until I can’t.


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