The only showing sign of the passing of time was the increasing size of the bags under my eyes.

Classes were still the same thing. Professors love to say that language is an alive consciousness that keeps evolving, but some of these source materials have been repeated to death. I swear to God I have a professor who still uses a slide projector.

Other than classes, I have a part-time job at a bookshop some blocks away from the mall. The place is focused on academic releases and that's the only reason why online retail hasn't taken it out of business. It's an incredibly dull place where nothing hardly ever happens, but for a student that's fine. I have plenty of time on the clock to work on assignments or study for exams.

So, that's the secret of life for you. Everything can be different if you cast them under a different light. I could tell you that my life is this constant journey of discovery where I'm surrounded by open-minded and intelligent people of varied degrees of education be it at school or work and I could make it sound oh-so-interesting to anyone watching, but in reality I've never felt so connected to a word as I've recently been feeling towards 'stupor'.

Maybe ‘the joint’ isn't as exciting and terrifying as I've been thinking as well.

I call it 'the joint', but I don't know if anyone else does. I haven't ever talked to anyone about the place, only overhearing two guys at the Uni restroom, where one of them, so many weeks ago, said you can get your jaw loose after midnight, if the other one knew what he meant. I can’t tell it if I like knowing what he meant. I don't even know if that place has a name. And I'm definitely not going there to check it.

What am I thinking? That I'll find a wooden sign nailed to the ground where someone wrote 'The Joint' on it? This isn't a fairy tale! Well ...

Still, I can't. What do I expect to happen? To go to a cruising point and just give myself away like that? No! Not for me. At least not when I still haven't ... People there know what they're doing, don't they? I'd stick out like a sore thumb. 

Slower than the days, the nights ate away my stability, bite by bite. The nightmares were no longer enough to keep my longing at bay. The way I had always managed to make-believe and pretend to be straight wasn't working anymore. When I wasn't being severely beaten by my father in my nightmares, I was feeling strong and caressing hands holding all of me in my fantasies. 

I spent a long time unable to understand this physical urge. Until then I had always been able to control it because my rational mind would counter-claim that even if I wanted to give in, I didn't know how to or where. I know I was surrounded by openly out gay men at Uni, but the idea of doing something with someone who knew me scared me shitless. But now I knew a place. Now I knew for certain. I kept fighting it and my body kept craving for it.

I take a glance at my bedside clock and the flashing light I see sets a fire inside of me. It will be 11pm in twenty minutes. If I leave now...

My parents don't really mind my coming and going, I've been doing this since I was a teenager. I throw a hoodie on, my favourite, dark green, and make to the door. To look less suspicious, I throw my backpack on my shoulder and get out of the house.

I consider taking a bus to a nearby stop, but I am far too nervous to manage sitting through the journey, so I walk. It's not exactly far from my house, but if I walk as slowly as I need to prevent sweating less than what nervous is already making me do, I am bound to arrive there shortly after eleven.

I hope the good ones won't be already taken by then.

Oh, Lord, what am I thinking?