Charmless Man in a Newsboy Hat

19. He/They (cis). Tragically homosexual. Willing to answer any ask. Boy Afraid. Don't look for me.

[morrisseyinacoma]

After losing my virginity, I've come to the conclusion that I'm most likely asexual. I wish sex was even a quarter as appealing as Morrissey makes it sound. Why has God made me so delicate and nowhere near normal?

[morrisseyinacoma]

I wish I could pass my homosexual thoughts/tendencies as something temporary, a phase even, but I know full well that isn't the case. I will never find a man. Not because there is no intent, rather a lack of interest from any person that has the misfortune of catching my eye.

[morrisseyinacoma]

I am ill again, in the literal sense. Can't speak, can't breath, can't exist.

[morrisseyinacoma]

I'm begging anyone to just ask me something. Anything. I won't say no. How could I?

[morrisseyinacoma]

Everyone keeps pestering me about not having a driver's license. Apparently, it's frowned upon to be pushing 20 without the ability to operate a vehicle, as if that's all there is to life. Heaven forbid someone chooses to be environmentally conscious. And don't get me started on vegetarianism (which I frankly wish were veganism, but my iron levels don't permit it).

[morrisseyinacoma]

I crave physical touch from one person in particular. Leaning on his shoulder, hoping he lays his head on mine. Hoping he stands just a bit too close, to the point where we can't dismiss it as a mere friendly touch. I want him to want me. His advice would be to be direct. To tell the object of my affection how I feel. How can he possibly know how I feel? Doesn't he get it? I can't tell him. Despite all the insults I can throw his way, I'm not and could never be enough for him. Because I said so and I know better than to trust him with my feelings. Ruin the friendship. I want him.

[morrisseyinacoma]

I turn 20 in December. Dearest Morrissey, are you by any chance looking for a young, American (sadly) boyfriend? I'm available. I'm not man enough to refer to you as anything other than Morrissey, which one could argue is too proper, too professional for a lover. All I do is try my best, having to prove to myself that I'm worthy of your affections.

[morrisseyinacoma]

"Whatever Happens, I Love You" is literal ear orgasm (better than the regular type of orgasm). Dearest Morrissey, you are the love of my life. You consume me. I want you more than words can say.

[morrisseyinacoma]

In another life, me and Morrissey would be perfect for each other. We would be married and living a quiet, childfree life with several cats. Shame how life betrayed me by never even giving me a chance.

[morrisseyinacoma]

I wish I were British.