For it seems to often now, that feeling seems to overcome. Just standing by that door, that door that never seems to open. For how much I wish to take that step back, away from what so waits ahead of this place. But to turn back is to face my past, for I can not do that. For I have come to far, to far for that.

Even so, if I was to end, there is no reason to not suffocate myself inside this room. The walls do come tighter, but it will take time for it to finally reach my spot, my position in this map. But, I am Frighten. I can not stay here forever, even though I say I can. To be tormented by these walls. For they smile...They smile back...

To often do they stare back at me, as I sit there, pretending to be occupied by something that seems as if useless in the real world, the world I so wish to leave. I try not to look at them as I sit, as I pretend, as I fade away as the walls slowly close around me. But it is hard to not look. To not see what they want. They want me to look, I can sense it in there silence. They know it makes me want to, to look...Every time I do they smile. They smile back, as if I was to smile. I do not feel the smile a pond my face, but it is hard to not smirk at the site of it. So I must, once again, force myself to look away.

So often time does not fly. Only float. Standing still. Still as I sit. Sit still. Waiting. Waiting for the end. The end that does not seem to come. Only a dream, I protest. But it is hard to protest against something so difficult to look at.

The door. It is still closed, forever shall it be, till those words, those feelings, that meaning washing from my lips and onto others. For those others are to take it from theirs and pass it on, as if a never ending chain of voices shouting at you. Looking at it, The Door. It seems so peaceful, so quiet. But what is on the other side, what is to come.

What if it is endless pain? Pain to only bring to the break of my extinction. Could that possibly be? Is that my choice? Or is that a given force. A force that wakens dead of the night, as you sleep. As you ponder on the morning to come. Even as the shadow of day arises it still lays inside. Inside that room. That room you still rest at.

But to turn around. To turn away from that door. Behind the faces, the voices, the hurt. Either way the pain shall come...Either way I am damned. For I can not take this torture of my so called life to turn back around and step through...But I can not take it enough to torture myself for this 'mistake' of a life that is sprouting slowly within me. As If a cold, a Disease trying to take over. To win me over. Even as I fight back, it is not balanced. I know what it wants. I know what I want. But do I want it?

I can not want it if it is to harm. To harm me, others around me. If I turn that handle. If I open it. Would it not destroy the past I have kept to myself. This secret only shared by me. If I step, then it is as if I let this win. I can not! For I will fight. I can, I can win. I will WIN...But what if I fail?

NO! Failure is not the subject, or is it. To fail is apart of life, as is a to win. Even a wish like mine will never change the effect it has besotted upon me already. For these past sessions in this place, this feeling, this room. It has changed, not just me, but ME. I am not that boy I was once. I am now, something, something more. Not an adult, not a child. But a thing. It has showed me something I can not explain. The explanation for my actions as I have been 'influenced' by this nightmare, I can not find. Only the apology I give to them all...

Must I though, go through this. I want to reach. But, I can not. Maybe this is, just after all, a Disease. And I will win...there is no point...But...Must I...Must I? Believe?

I do not wish to. I do not wish to comprehend the meaning of this 'unlawful' event that is so closely taken in my life. So I do not wish to come closer, do not wish to seek the truth. I Guess I must slip away, slip away from nothing. From nowhere...from me...

I open to find this place. Back to where I was. The place. This thing. Looking around I can find the pictures of the past I have hung in memory of the events taken through out my life. Through this journey that seems not to understand itself.

So must I get up? Must I...? I do not see the point. It is not as if I am to miss today. I will be here. Just here. Just this place. This position I do not wish to leave. It is not as if it is to pass me by, the day. More like I am to pass it by.

The Screen in the right corner from me screens the nature of true human needs. Sex. Hmph. It is a shame my parents do not know the channels I get, then maybe they would care. Care to see. Two men, one on the other. As if it was meant to be. As if a connection that was transmitted in there heads to tell them, 'that they were free.' that they can now do what they want. No longer does it matter. Or does it?

I dream of that place. A place full of men. Men that want me. I find it hard to live such a life. All I can see is the nature of what people call 'normal'. Ha, for I am not that. I am something that is frowned upon as if I am the one to blame for me.

It is so easy to pretend who you are. It is easy to make a life on top of your head and just go on by it. Just begin to tell all of this person, this being you are not. But they do not know that. That believe. They believe that story from the beach. They believe all you tell. The funny thing is, how can you stop.

Sure it seems easy. One story, than another. Soon it seems to good to stop. You, this person, this being, is no longer a Feeling, a is You. Now you must live as it. The people around get situated with it and life goes on. But those brief moments....Those moments.

When you say the wrong thing...You say what YOU think. Not this person. Not this role you play. The character would think otherwise. But you...You must bring your point out. But no one takes you seriously. The Vision has taken over, and you are no longer You...

By a glance you can tell who I really am. But no one says a word. They pretend it not be. Hmph. I am not that person you usually see with their hand with their same other. I am not that. I am not the 'same'. I am different. I am not this figure of a vision I set myself out to be. But I am something special, almost.

Minorities always are. Or so We say. We pretend, I guess, to make our presence on this earth seem some what...meaningful. Not this meaning that others have in mind. My meaning of life. it is so easy for some to answer their meaning. But what is mine?

It is always so hard for me. What is the meaning of me? There really is no REAL meaning. I'm just there. Just a finger print on a just cleaned window. They just ignore it. For it is only one. But when those prints become more and more obvious from more and more different ones. It is hard to not ignore that. That is when they come in. That is when I seem to lose.

Some times I try to ignore them. They say they know. Of course they do...'They are HIS children!'...Hmph...We all are, aren't we? What do they know...What do I? To let go of these words they say and shout, is no longer bearable it has taken me to the point of my own extinction.

To cry at night.

So what is my choice? Should I stay and wait for this to end. Or go and watch it from the side. It seems to complicated either way. Either way I will be awake. Either way I will be living. Either way I shall suffer longer. Either way nothing changes. Either way it makes life worse.

Getting up is the hardest part of the day. Sometimes it is easier than others, but on this day. It is hard. Saturday is the day you are to sleep in. To enjoy your weekend from the 'Governed Polices of America'...(School)...

But to wake up on a day like this. To actually go through with this. It seems...stupid. Pointless. What is it to end up with in the end? I will leave only matters of days later, and go on as if nothing happened. As do I, for all of them.

'Picky'. I am not. Just, hard to find is all. Sure you may know me. But does not mean you know. People pretend to know me, to use. To use me for there own betterment. As if that will help. I am the person who does not wish to be touched. Who does not wish to go on. I am the person you see everyday.

They stare back at you, and you look away scared. I get that a lot...They always look around, as if I am the freak. Or am I? I am the 'different'. I am the minority. So I must be, right? But it is much more than that. So much more...Oh well...

Standing up next to the door. The poster. My favorite of all. Yet my parents have not discovered it. I can remember the day I bought it. The cashiers look. I smiled kind fully. Of course to by something like that, I would have to be alone. I would have to not be seen by people I know. Hide myself away. But I have so long been staring at it, every time I come to this place all I do is stare. No gay man can say that could not not stare. It is so beautiful.

So I bought it. I remember walking out of that store. I remember clenching the receipt tightly in my hands, almost as if I was ready to give it back. To change my mind. To pretend I picked out the wrong one. But I didn't. I went on.

I, of course, had to by some more. I could not have this lone poster. For they might start to question, as they always have. So some bags of clothes ,I did not need, I brought. So all they saw was the bags of it. And my lone poster hide inside the bags, never to be seen from them.

When I got home, that time, I quickly ran with my bags of unneeded material and marched my way to that place, only to lock the place up from any light. I remember how I took it out. How I pulled it out for only me to see. I remember the feeling of courage, brave. I remember how I quietly that night hung it on the door. Ever since no one that has been in my room have I closed the door. Even my Guy friends. They can not see. No one can see. I bought it for me. It was made for me. It shall ever wait for just me.

Touching that knob, I feel the energy after those very night I pretend. Those nights they were out. Those nights I went out. Those nights I sneaked out to those clubs. I remember bringing them home. The touching. The feeling. My body. I can sense it now. I can feel it. How powerful. I remember Him. He was the first I brought home with me.

His name I did not know. But I remember. His touch. How is hands slowly would grip my hips as we pushed our ever decaying bodies closer to each other as the night died young. I remember how is eyes burned with the anger of disgrace from the people. He was the first. He was the one that stayed. He stayed. We talked. I do not remember of what, now, it was to long ago. But his figure is not hard to forget. It was perfect. He was...Perfect...

He stayed all night. He left that morning, before they came to check. Even now when I touch my lips I can feel the presence of his on me. Almost as if they fit. They did. That was the last I saw of him. When he snuck out of that glass door. The Mirror in my wall. He left, with just the faint smell of him. In the last seconds before he was gone, I slip a paper to him. The numbers. The words to my freedom.

He told me he would return. Hmph...I have been waiting ever since. Not since that day have I touched another quiet like him. He was different. There was something. He wanted. I do not know. But I have waited, and in a way...I always will...I remember the days after him. I waited right before the phone. Awaiting to hear the voice of him. Nothing. I must live again...I must forget...I must move on...

But it is so hard, to forget. Forget something that is so meaningful...something so beautiful...pure...something so...perfect...

Sometimes it seems to rough being me. Being who I am. Some may call this 'Self-Pitty', but if I gave pity for myself that would also mean I am self- centered. Which I find my self to not be most of these times I so spend awake in the dead of sleep.

Leaning over the Wooden post towards the flight of stairs below me. It seems to much work for such a small task. Something about the way it moves. The way it is. The way we must continue. Life, is almost like this. Yes. Stairs. Life is just Stairs. You must Go down them to understand what you need, But you also must go up to give it up. To go away from it. It is just like life. That still does not make this an easy task.

They must be eating downstairs. Smiling. Pretending. Always happy. Some times I feel as if they never really wanted me. As If they just got me to have me. To say they did. It is not like they show their affection that much...

Staring down to the last step makes you think what comes after that step. After you hit the ground. After that step you take on the ground. Or the step after that. What happens...? 'It' always comes when you don't need it...Doesn't 'It'? Hmph...

Damn those voices. I can here them. They are laughing. Always Laughing to hide the silences of the world. To hide the injustice of the world. Laughter, I was told, can change a person. Laughter...I don't remember the last time I did that. It has been to long. Everything has been to long. Ever since...That day. The Day I realized who I was. It was then I figured there was no point in things so simple to smile or laugh at. It's not as if I am to smile at my future.

Three steps down and already do I feel as if I should go back. As if I do not belong here. Belong to this staircase. Belong to this lifeline...To this...I don't know. Maybe if I stand still. If I stay here. I wonder. What will happen? Will I have to take that next step? No one can force...or can they?

More laughter. What is so funny to laugh so hard? There is no way there is anything like that...Nothing that I have herd of seems to, un- right. Unnatural...No one laughs because they want to. They do because they are force maybe...we are forced to do something's...

Twelve steps down. Now I can hear the voices louder. The laughter higher. The smell of happiness feels the room. How can someone be happy at times like these? How can we, as people, be so...Hypocritical to one another...Hmph...

One step away, now. Looking down, the floor seems so peaceful. Even if I did take that last step and do not walk back to that place, the floor would not be harmed. Only disturbed...Like me? Am I? Disturbed...No, that can't be. Can it?

-Elena!-...Words spring out of the room from where I am only paces away. What if I turn back now. It won't seem to effect anyone. I can just, turn. Looking back passed the Staircase, past the Wooden Post, Past the Hallway. Looking back to that door. Imagining to open it and fall back into the place. Where maybe, just maybe, I can have that dream again. Maybe then I can finally open it.

-Elena!- What does He think he will accomplish by screaming a name like that. How many times must I tell them, both. Elena is a name for some one old. Some one about to die. That is a Elena. Me. I am not Elena. Ell is to...ehh...Lena, I have learned to come by. The name does not fit to my personality. But I like it just as much. Most people When they are born they are most effected with one choice their parents make. The Name. The name affects everything about them. It can affect friends. How they will be treated. How they will go on. Elena was just one of those names that parents choose wrong, but for some 'good-reason'.

Turning back to the final step, the floor, It seems almost impossible. Almost unlivable. It's not to late. I can go back. But...I am so close. So close to my goal, this so called accomplishment. But there must be, another choice. Must I go on with this day?

-Elena?- Silences. Once again there is not answer. Why bother. There is not point. He knows im here. He knows I'm alive. Why bother asking such a awkward question if they question has already been answered?

-Elena, Come down...I know you're there.- Really. He does, does he.

-Lena, it's nearly 10:25!- Damn is it that late? Oh no! I must of over slept my beauty sleep. Hm...At least HE got my name right. Why can't Alex?

I Still. Only a step away. A step to the beginning of the day. The beginning of this disaster. The beginning to this end. With this one step I am just lying, once again. Making my Vision that was told as if a story to become ever more true to the passer Byers that just seem to watch. Just seem to 'mingle' their way threw what they want. Do I really want this?

-Elena,- Maybe if just I take it. Could it really effect the rest of my day? - Why does she play such games!- I never knew this was a game. I never knew this was some form of it. Then again I don't know anything, around them, now do I.


-Maybe, because I do not wish to be disturbed.- I specifically tell them as I walk so gently into the room they sit. The room, a kitchen. 'The perfect Kitchen, as Alex says.' I really do not care much for cooking...

-'Maybe', we don't care...- He smiles, as she enters. That man. His smile. So perfect. The teeth in his mouth are as white as the clouds on a sunny day. Sometimes when the rays of light hits his teeth they seem to reflect it onto things. Hmph. I find that very Frightening.

-Well 'Maybe, she does care but does not want to know you care in order for you to care just so she knows that you know that she doesn't want you to so you would...' Jeff...Always bringing the 'Calm'. Whenever tension arises he is the one to bring it low. He smiles as he walks over and kisses me so carefully, softly, on my cheek. He backs away and smiles. -It wouldn't kill you to smile, you know.-

I hate it when people tell me this. What do they know. They do not know my life. They do not know the choices I have made in the past to make this frown so low. So Natural after so long...It is almost a reflex to not smile. I have had no good news since that night. Since that day. He left, left to leave me waiting. Waiting for that moment that he might come back. Come back to me. So I wait.

-It Wouldn't Kill you NOT to smile...- I sharply point out to them both as I walk over to the fridge and pull out the last of Chocolate milk. It is silent as this is happening. I hate silences in a room full of people. Makes me feel as if I am not needed. As if they are waiting for me to leave. I turn to close the Fridge door to find them both looking at me. Both their eyes the same. The same evil glare. I stare back for a second then take the few steps to the glasses where it begins to pour.

'Pour my life into a cup. Let it drain. Watch it fade away. Watch me suffer. Watch me Die.'

-What?- I ask finally as the cup is millimeters from the edge of the tip of the cup. I stop, with only a drop or two of milk left. Staring at it, it reminds me of Souls. Lost Souls. The two drips have been forgotten, they have been lost. They are missing, but no one seems to be searching for them. No one seems to want them. After washing out the Plastic Bottle and placing it down, I turn back once more and stare at them. Still no answer. Still Silent. -WHAT!?-

I can see they are both trying to hold back something. A Smile? No...A Laugh? Can't be...A feeling. A thought. A Image the hold in their minds. I wonder of what? How much I bet it is of me. For when is it ever not? Never.


I wonder. What will they do if I just leave? What if I just walk out of the room. Then I can go back to the Place. There I can finally go back to it.


'Silence is a Virtue...' I never did get that. It makes no sense. Virtue is a 'Moral excellence.' how can silence be a moral excellence? It should be changed to 'Silence is a Virtue...?' Add the Question mark. To question the mark...


Some one speak. There must be something going on. I can't take this. I can't take this. I hate this. I have to go.


-What, The Hell, Is going on!?- I ask so carefree of what my consequence might be from Alex. For Alex is the 'Perfect' of the two. Always right. Never left. I don't see how that is since Jeff is Left Handed...

-What did you say!- He screams back at me. Hmph, how did I know this was to happen. Maybe I am just a genius. I wonder if I can be moved up from EC to EC advance.

-WHAT-THE...THE...T-H-E..._- I begin before I was ever so rudely-

-I KNOW what you said!- He marks back as if to correct a mistake being made.

-Then why did you ask!?- I begin to scream. I no longer care. He shouldn't of started it. All I wanted was to stay awake and let me pass the day by. Skip everything. Skip tonight. But he just made things worse...

-It was a_-

-Hey...- Jeff. Right in the middle. I sometimes wonder if he interrupts our arguments because he feels left out. As if he is being left out of the fights as a parent. I never really do get in a fight with him. I mean, why would I? He never questions, as if I am my own authority. I am my own little State Trooper. -Do you two even know the point of this argument...?-

We both stood there silent. Not deadly, but silent. I can tell he knew there was no reason, hell even I knew that. Sometimes it is just great to take anger out on someone who you know hates you.


'Is the Cup Half Full, or Half Empty?'

I see his eyes cross from mine to Jeff's ever so secretly. He does not wish to share his emotions. Only make others feel like shit. Is that his 'high'? To make others feel so bad of them selves...But what does he care. He Is only_


-Then why are you two going at it?- How ever so calm he is.

-There is no reason,- I begin. -Only the meaning...- They both stood there dumbfound. Awaiting for my explanation of what has just been mentioned.

-What meaning?- I stare at Alex as he waits for the answer. I can see the sweat almost riding down his face to his anorectic body. I wonder how many times a day he eats? ('Oh I eat...All the time!'... 'Right...')

-Have you not figured out why we fight?- I so calmly present to them -The reason is there is no reason...Just a meaning...-

-But what is the meaning!- I turned to the redid face of Alex who seems as if to explode by such an innocent comment I seem of just made.

-There is none. The meaning is nothing, as if the reason.-

- But sweetie...-

-Easily...If there a Reason there must be a meaning. If there's a meaning there must be a Reason. Same thing to say as if there was none of either.-

-But, that doesn't answer the question.-

-What Question...?- I say smartly as I take one final sip of the chocolate and began to pour the rest down the drain. The face of him seemed to as if explode in a violent shade of red.

-WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING! YOU COULD OF SAVED THAT FOR LATER! HOW CAN YOU WASTE OUR MONEY LIKE THAT! WE BROUGHT YOU IN THIS FAMILY TO BE A FAMILY! TO SHARE! SOMEONE ELSE COULD OF USED THAT! HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!- I could see the anger build on his face. Sure it is hard not to laugh. But I don't. If you laugh, it just gives the situation more problems, to many, that it does not need. I stand there, dumbfounded, and stare at Alex who I can see in his eyes the death of me.

- 'Maybe'- I begin - I shouldn't be part of this 'Family' you so strongly talk about! Who asked me to be formed in it!? No one. NO ONE, asked ME who I was to go to. Since my 'Mother's' lover did not care for a child, she chose her over me! Right now I shouldn't even be! 'Maybe' your right...Maybe I don't deserve to live here!- The screams of what he had just said still rang In one of my ears as what I just shared to the other. Both intersecting at the center and causing a major Headache to erupt inside me.

I turn to both of them and take that step. It seems almost as if my life was slowed down as I took that next step to run out of the door. As I ran I could see it in front of me. I could sense both of them in shock of what they have just been told, even though they both knew. As I came to the door I remember hearing. -Elena!- from behind me. All I could do is scream back the name I was so soon given -Lena!-. I remember the darkness...

So...Cold...It seems to cold to bare. It is late December, of course it would. But the Pavement feels to Cold. To different. Taking those last few steps, will not be my last in that house hold they seem to support as a 'Family'. We are no family. We are without love.

The pressure of the dying wind falls over the fragile skin of my face. The presence of cold soon takes over the form of it and I feel that I am now, alone.

Alone. Gone. Far away, whatever you may wish to call it. That is me. This is me. Alone on the street. On the pavement. Just lying. Just waiting. Waiting for the end to arrive.

How much I knew this day would not be the one I would finally lift. Lift from this place and become the one I so used to call myself. I am not this 'Lena' I am so called to. This is not the person I wanted to be, lying here with me. In this body. This body...

This body is mine, but 'It' has taken over. 'It' has won, again. I can't seem to find myself anymore, I am to lost within the darkness that does not seem to un-engulf the light that once was shined down upon this vary spot.

I just wish to feel that. Feel the shine. The Light. The way it felt to be free. Not trapped, as I am. All lost. All alone. Just me. I can remember it, how it felt. How it shined down on this spot. How it gave it's last warmth the final day. I remember that. It has been so long since I have felt it. The light is not the same light the shined down on me those two years ago.

Back then I was the person I wish I was now. I was able to go one with out criticizing myself with hypocritical comments. I was able to walk around with out the no-ability of the knowledge of what I soon will know. That day I pretended. I pretended to be something else.

But What. What did I pretend. All I can see is the faint song of the 'forever sadness'. It circles the air as I was there. As It rained. That day. It rained. The storm. It was the night. That day of it. I remember. It was the day I found 'it'. It was hidden. Scared. But I found 'it'. I tried to keep 'it' safe. But...I couldn' was to late. I tried...I tried?

The rain just poured down as it piled up into the oceans of what seems of these very streets. I was lost. I was scared. I was gone. But I found...What I found... 'it'...I tried...I really did. I tried...but nothing came. Nothing happened. Nothing worked. I I am now.

Looking up at the sky. The figures it shapes. The endless scent of blue. The formation that surrounds it. The sky...How much joy it would be to look down from there. To look down and see me standing here. Standing. Watch me looking up as it was looking down. I can see it now. I can see me. There, there I am. But...Where am I going? That voice...Come Back!

It could not be the voices of what I think it is. To turn around would be worth to much time. Continuing on this adventure that does not have a meaning, that has no purpose for me to go on. But I do.


It quickens. The voices. They begin to bounce. Maybe...


It calls. It calls for me. Shall I turn to find out what this figure wants from me. Why would they...


As I turn the dead rotten flowers from the past summer, covered by the ice that laid on the ground but is so suspiciously melting away from the slight shine of the sun, seem to be regenerated and come back. To life. They all watch me as I do. Watching my very next move.

The power of feel as I did. I can sense their energy. They seem to want me to turn back. As a warning sign of what is ahead of this road. What is ahead of this step. This beginning, of something.

There They were. There he was. Staring at me as if I was something gone. Dead. Something that has not been seen for eras. Staring so blankly he looks no different from the days before that I saw him. He is back. He came...He's back home with me...