Skip to main content

my Confession





My Confession

He was the only thing I had left — the only thing that made life mean something. He was the crown of my life, the peace that said I’d finally reached what I was meant to reach. To have a partner, a home, a family — that was everything. That was the dream. That was the point.

Even as a gay man, I believed in the sacredness of family — two men building a life together, raising little ones, shaping something that would outlive us both. That’s the crown of glory. That’s what gives life meaning. Not fame, not success — family. Love that endures through generations.

I wanted us to do it right. I wanted us to build something solid before we ever brought children into our lives. I wanted us to be financially secure, stable, and ready — to have the home, the foundation, the ability to be present in their lives. I didn’t want us to be the kind of parents always working, always catching up, never truly there. The security wasn’t for us — it was for them.

We had the chance. We had the honor and the ability to do it right from the start. But we never built it. We never laid the bricks. We never did the groundwork. And maybe that’s what broke us — because he wanted kids too, but I wouldn’t move on it until I knew we could give them everything they deserved. I thought it was love. I thought it was wisdom. Maybe it was just too much work for him.

And so here I am, stuck in this place. I’ve achieved everything else I wanted in life. Every goal, every dream, every milestone except the one that mattered most — the one that made it all worth it. To build a family. To raise children in love. To leave something sacred behind.

That was the last thing I had left to give, and I never got to give it. So now life feels meaningless.

Being alone is easier now. It’s quieter. Safer. Because every reminder of what could have been — every echo of that dream — just reminds me where I failed, and what will never come back.

This is my truth. My reality. The law life wrote for me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Moth Emerges from the Nigredo

The Moth Emerges from the Nigredo In the beginning, there was the breaking— not the clean snap of a twig, but the slow, mineral erosion of stone under water that lies, under hands that reshape your gravity until north becomes south and your own heartbeat sounds foreign. They scattered you. Sparagmos. Limbs of perception torn by Titans wearing familiar faces, your thumos whipped into a frenzy while they called your chaos madness, your survival sickness. You were told to become butterfly— to fold your trauma into bright wings, to sip quickly at the surface, to dazzle and die in the same season, to forgive the frost that clipped you and call it spring. But you descended instead. Katabasis. Into the humus, the black earth, where Persephone keeps her winter, where the pupa does not dream of flight but of becoming— a gestation longer than anyone’s patience, a silence mistaken for death. Years in the chrysalis of ash. Nigredo. You did not glitter. Y...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Touch That Changed Me

The Touch That Changed Me We had been building toward it in messages that burned quietly— long threads of thought, laughter carried through glass, confessions typed in the blue light of longing. Desire grew not loud, but steady— a tide pulling at the ribs, an ache for proximity, for breath shared in the same air. And then there we were— walking the trails, the earth soft beneath our steps, the wind cool and honest. We sat beneath a patient tree, two men pretending calm. You touched my knee. Not by accident. Not unsure. You held it. Gripped it. Looked at me. And something ancient inside me melted. The armor I did not know I wore ran like thawing ice. Pain loosened its grip. The hard edges softened. We acted, as if nothing monumental had happened— as if the universe had not just tilted. The wind grew colder. You shivered. We walked back, hands brushing— a quiet electricity in every almost-touch. Close enough to feel heat without claiming ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Glory of the Cosmos

Glory of the Cosmos An Epic to the Immortal Gods Before the first horizon opened its burning eye, Before dawn learned how to rise from the dark, Before wind found its wandering voice— The Immortals stood. Not one throne alone in the silence— But many. Storm-crowned. Sea-veiled. Sun-robed. Moon-browed. Flame-bearing. Harvest-holding. Sword-bright and mercy-deep. From their splendor the stars took fire. From their laughter the rivers ran. From their will the mountains rose And bent in shining reverence. Glory to the Immortals— Radiant Powers of earth and sky! Thrones of lightning and woven fate, Hands that shape both seed and storm. Golden the Mothers who kindle hearth and heart. Fierce the Guardians who stand at the gates of shadow. Wise the Keepers of hidden paths and silver thought. Joyful the Givers of wine, of harvest, of love’s uprising. Without their light we would fade like ash in wind. Without their breath we would drift without song. But uph...
Post a Comment
Read more