Pretty much all week I've been saying I need to have sex. But it's not sex I feel I really crave. It's closeness. I'm tired again. I feel I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and no one's hearing me. At all. No one. I feel I'm conveying my feelings every time someone looks at me. My eyes. But they can't seem to understand and feel it's too much trouble to decipher. Everyone's illiterate. I feel my stride screams for an evaluation. No one sees. Or maybe they do but they just don't care?

On my way home tonight I stopped off to pick up a few things at Pathmark and then strolled along the boulevard. Then of course I started thinking:

"Here I at minutes to midnight, walking home. Swinging a plastic bag. Walking ...alone. Looking at the city. Cool breeze..."

Then I started thinking about things I said when I was 17. About growing up and being a 'starving artist type'. Drinking bottled water and having just enough money to live comfortably. Travel once in a while. It almost seems like I trapped myself. But at the same time I'm living in New Jersey. Across from the greatest city in the world. I buy bottled water. I'm 22 years old and I'm an artist. Just like I wanted. I'm a 'starving artist type' like I wanted. I travel. Even if it's just to Connecticut once a week to work. It's a change and I like it.

I actually stopped walking and looked over at Manhattan. The lights. The reflections on the river. I smiled. And then when I started walking again, a couple walked by holding hands. And I started feeling that void. It feels like heartburn. Your throat goes dry and tight. Eyes threaten to fill. And you realize how alone you are. And not just on the street. And then ...all you see from that point is other people being happy. Being close. And you have to shift your eyes to the ground in front of you. Walk faster ...or slower. Whatever it takes to avoid seeing what you don't have.

I thought more about the people I know. Husani. I don't think I'd have what little thread of sanity I have left if I hadn't met him. He really is my best friend. I'm not even concerned whether I mean as much to him or not. I don't mind being dependent here.

Ross. Someone I definitely took for granted. I probably still do though not even consciously. I miss the intimacy. I miss rubbing my nose against his. I miss feeling ...fuck ... I feel like crying. I miss feeling his arms around me. But I honestly never fell hard for him. I loved him. I still do. I really do. It would've been unfair to just stay with him because I don't want to be alone. Stupid but I'd rather be alone than really hurt him.

And then there are other people who seem to offer closeness or at least friendship (which is what I really want). Guys I've met online who actually live in the neighborhood. Like Jason. And then you have people like Nick who you get along with great online, who lives in the city but you never meet. Mainly because, I think, of that seemingly unspoken shallow rule in the gay community - "If you're not someone I'd want to sleep with, I don't need to have anything to do with you." I guess it goes for anyone really but it's used a lot with gay guys. It's stupid and extremely shallow. I have no interest in sleeping with Nick. There should be no fear of me jumping across a table at Starbucks to hump his leg. We used to chat online quite a bit. I read his journal and I relate to some of the things he writes about. And it's always cool reading the journal of someone living in the city and knowing exactly what they're talking about when they mention certain places or things because you go either go to those places too or deal with those things.

It's just sad the way people come and go, y'know. When they really don't have to go at all. You have guys like Edward who's a ten-minute drive from me. And yes, we've fooled around before. Yes, we know what each other looks like naked. Yes, he has a boyfriend. Am I a scheming little bitch out to wreck their relationship? No. Do I care whether or not I see Edward naked again or not? No. Would I love to be able to just hang out with him? Yes. Go to the park and sketch? Yup. Have I told him I'm not a scheming little bitch out to wreck his relationship and that I'd like nothing more than hanging out and drawing with him? Yes. I guess the only other question left is ... 'Does he believe me?'

I just feel myself become much more jaded. With every guy I meet. Every flirty glance, smile, wink, pair of lips moisten. What drives me crazy is the staring. The fuckin' staring. And I don't buy that "You're attractive and they're intimidated" bullshit. I don't. Fuck it. Thoughts are swirling and I'm much too drained to keep writing. I just know that I keep thinking back to my thoughts at 17. In the little 'starving artist type' life I mapped out, I forgot to write a 'someone' into the script. Now I'm fucked.