The hardest part about coming out was realizing that I tried to be straight for 16 years of my life.

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@charles-bausky-blog
The hardest part about coming out was realizing that I tried to be straight for 16 years of my life.
“because a 16 year old girl who had her first orgasm whilst getting raped, had to watch her 34 year old rapist go free because she had an orgasm.
because when one of my guy friends told me and some friends he got raped by a woman when he was 12, a “friend” laughed at him and told him he should be happy he got laid that young.
because my 17 year old friend’s parents let her 14 year old brother roam the streets until 12am, but she has to be home by 10.
Because my brothers girlfriend, told the police she was raped and fell pregnant but the rapist didn’t get jail time as she got an abortion and the ‘evidence’ was gone.
because a guy from my old school was raped by another guy, but because he’s gay, they said it wasn’t considered rape.
because a 19 year old lesbian got raped by a guy, and he didn’t go to prison because he said “he only tried to turn her straight so she would be accepted by her parents”.
because in some cultures, girls (and boys, of course) still get thrown out of the family because somebody sexually assaulted them.
because they’re still teaching girls to walk faster at night instead of teaching boys that they shouldn’t rape.
Because they’re teaching kids that they’re only male rapists and not female rapists too.
because I have to explain why rape makes me mad.“
Because in Oklahoma mouth rape is legal if the victim is drunk
"When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don't get to decide that you didn't" - Louis C.K.
I felt the need to smile, but I couldn't find the courage to do so.
@charles-bausky
Everyone's busy, and they always are, but I can't blame them, I would be too if an emotionally scarred shell of a human being that they used to know sent them a text asking if they wanna grab dinner. It'd be hard to explain to them that I'm getting better especially when they haven't seen me better.
@charles-bausky
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he called it “Chops” because that was the name of his dog And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo And he let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X’s And he had to ask his father what the X’s meant And his father always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he called it “Autumn” Because that was the name of the season And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars And left butts on the pews And sometimes they would burn holes That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames And the girl around the corner laughed When he asked her to go see Santa Claus And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot And his father never tucked him in bed at night And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it. Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem And he called it “Innocence: A Question” because that was the question about his girl And that’s what it was all about And his professor gave him an A And a strange steady look And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her That was the year that Father Tracy died And he forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed went And he caught his sister making out on the back porch And his mother and father never kissed or even talked And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup That made him cough when he kissed her But he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundly That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem And he called it “Absolutely Nothing” Because that’s what it was really all about And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the kitchen.
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I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life
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Something So Usual
Self Sabotage, devaluing one’s self, putting yourself down for your own internal struggle. We do it every day, whether we make the conscious decision to do so, or not. Whether or not we’re perfect, questioning why we’re worth it, insecure and working towards bettering myself. But no, nothing has changed, I’m still that quiet, cynical, piece of human garbage that clutters up this beautiful world, and no one has had the audacity to throw me away yet.
When I’m lost in my thoughts, I go to a better place, one where I’m not struggling to love myself, one where I feel whole. But, it’s all a dream, anything less than that, and I’m back to me. Insecurities, with disbelieving and metaphorical bleeding, between love and lustfulness for needing a friend, heeding my downfall because I have given myself away to the part of me that feels differently.
Why should I feel differently? I don’t feel different from a better me, although I’ve never been better than he made himself out to be. Arms wide open, accepting those who cry, I never threw down any rhymes, when I wasn’t dead inside.
I realized happiness has fleeted and has greeted me with the emptiness found by only those who need it. I’m not gonna lie, I’m lost, lost in my thoughts hoping that I’ll be found out. But, not all who wander are lost, and my soul has been gone for too long.
This feeling on the inside, the one that is desensitized and numb, realizing the reality of my life and I’m finally fucking realizing why I feel this way. I’m a mess, it doesn’t rhyme with shit, it’s just true. Maybe if earlier I knew, I’d be realizing it’s just you, I don’t hate myself, it’s just the things that you’d make me do. It’s the things that I hate about myself, that makes me love myself.
My flaws make me who I am, but not less of a man, holding out my hand for those who need it more. This and that, and all of that cynicism that makes me operate like a machine, hoping that someone will help me move when my heart is rusted over.
But, I force myself to move each and every day, because when I finally say I’ve had enough, I will scream it out for everyone to hear, whether you’re near or far, I don’t care where you are, but my life’s worth living, even if I Love to Hate, and Hate to Love myself, but it’s not for you to see, it’s just me being me.
- @charles-bausky
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"21" by Patrick Roche
21. My father is run over by a car.
He is passed out in the road with a blood alcohol content
4 times the legal limit.
I do not cry.
Four months later,
The nurses lose his pulse,
And I wonder whose life
Flashed before his eyes.
Rewinding VHS tapes
Old home videos
20.
19. I haven’t brought a friend home in four years.
18. My mother sips the word “divorce”
Her mouth curls at the taste
Like it burns going down.
17. I start doing homework at Starbucks.
I have more meaningful conversations with the barista
Than with my family
16. I wait for Christmas Eve.
My brother and I usually exchange gifts to one another early
This year, he
And my father exchange blows.
My mother doesn’t go to mass.
15. I come up with the theory that my father started drinking again
Because maybe he found out I’m gay.
Like if he could make everything else blurry,
Maybe somehow I’d look straight.
15. My mother cleans up his vomit in the middle of the night
And cooks breakfast in the morning like she hasn’t lost her appetite.
15. I blame myself.
15. My brother blames everyone else.
15. My mother blames the dog.
15. Super Bowl Sunday
My father bursts through the door like an avalanche
Picking up speed and debris as he falls
Banisters, coffee tables, picture frames
Tumbling, stumbling.
I find his AA chip on the kitchen counter.
14. My father’s been sober for 10,
Maybe 11, years?
I just know
We don’t even think about it anymore.
13.
12.
11. Mom tells me Daddy’s “meetings” are for AA.
She asks if I know what that means.
I don’t.
I nod anyway.
10. My parents never drink wine at family gatherings.
All my other aunts and uncles do.
I get distracted by the TV and forget to ask why.
9.
8.
7.
6. I want to be Spider-Man.
Or my dad.
They’re kinda the same.
5.
4.
3. I have a nightmare
The recurring one about Ursula from The Little Mermaid
So I get up
I waddle toward Mommy and Daddy’s room,
Blankie in hand,
I pause.
Daddy’s standing in his underwear
Silhouetted by refrigerator light.
He raises a bottle
To his lips.
2.
1.
Zero. When my mother was pregnant with me,
I wonder if she hoped,
As so many mothers do,
That her baby boy would grow up to be
Just like
His father.
21 - Patrick Roche (x)
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