this is my first entry, so let me explain where i want to go with this blog. first of all, you will realize, i am not expressing myself with any caps whatsoever; well, i am writing how i see myself in the mirror, imperfections and all — so no capitalizations, and if my grammar is off, then so be it.

‘all.washed.up’ is my way of communicating not only to myself, but to others like myself. i am a college senior at a prestigious university in the united states. i am a gay male, 21 years old, and although i don’t admit much, or buy into myself, ‘known’ in some respects, some may say, ‘famous.’ i am not a film actor or musician, but rather an artist and we’ll leave it at that. you may or may not know me. either way, it doesn’t matter, i placed that in here for background purposes only. this is how i see myself. i don’t see myself as successful, intelligent, wealthy, or famous — i am just a drop in this ocean of life.

okay, i am not depressed. perhaps, at times, i do get lonely and sad, but most of the time, i have always just considered myself too much of a thinker for my own good. i ponder things — i think strange things i really should not, it just leads me to be more jaded and bitter about the world. maybe this is a part of growing up, adulthood; wrinkles, achy bones, joules — not sure. all i know is i am here, i am now, i feel i am consistently playing a game — and you know, i hardly even know myself anymore. today, at 21 years old, i am a much different person than i was when i was at 15. when i was 15, a chubby, new england boy, sitting alone with no friends, no hope, family life, future — a complete waste of life.

for the longest time, i have have always had self-esteem issues. okay, so i could rant and rave about the typical gay man’s experience of anorexia, phen phen, ephedrine, excessive exercise, make-up, expensive clothes, hair dying/bleaching, shaving, tanning — all those things that make us feel ‘like we belong.’ i can rave about how many people i crushed, threw aside, and left for nothing in my years of rising to the ‘top’ — but can’t almost every person? you admit it — if you are reading now, admit that you have done this as well, because i am. and if you think you are better than me, well, you are not. we have all lied, cheated, borrowed, stolen, and made people feel bad about themselves because we feel bad about ourselves; we are humans, always seeking for what we want and never knowing what it is we are really after. we are a species full of insecurities, demands, and expectations — and it’s not profound, we all know this.

so, why am i different, who cares about listening to my stories? i suppose because i want someone to listen to me, the real me. every day i live a life which i make up, in my mind, i live the perfect life — everyone thinks i am naturally thin, gorgeous skin, wonderful and secure family life, smart and quick witted, creative, and confident. in reality, i am just lucky and, okay, maybe intelligent in the respect that i can think on my toes quickly. i am good (really good) at falsifying and selling anything. a side note: i convince people i am from (said country) all the time, that i was born there, that i speak the language, read and write it — just to look more attractive to people because i am european. how do you like that — what a phony i am.

the yarn continues to unravel

i’m not 21, i’m 22. i didn’t start out at a prestigious university, i started out at a state school i barely made it into. i did poorly in high school because i was always wrapped up in a life without a father and an alcoholic mother who cared more about chasing a money trail than she ever cared about me. i have a sister, she is my life line, she’s the only person who knows me for what i truly am — i don’t know how many times i thank the lord for her. anyway, i am an old mess of a man who has fallen so far from the truth, he is starting to believe all his lies.

so, i cover it up with make-up

i use cosmetics, at first because i had acne when i was younger and was very self-conscious of the fact that i wore them, always denying if someone had even noticed a little bit. today, i am a frequent user, i don’t know if i do it for fashion or to completely cover up what i really am. i once had a fight with my aunt about this same issue — she told me, “you are fake, constantly covering all your problems up with make-up, you are just like your mother, full of words and promises, but never results.” yes, this coming from a family member. my family is shit, but i am not looking for sympathy, a lot of families are not cookie-cutter perfect. so, maybe i do do it for the dramatic effect — but maybe i am a man wearing make-up because i don’t want to be me, i want to be, what i have created. it’s a weird psychological trauma which probably stems back to me being left alone as a kid without a social network, but let’s get beyond that.

so, i am caring why?

i am a good person, innately good. i wasn’t always a crusher of feelings, i didn’t always act like a caddy elitist ready to pounce and rip open everyone in my path: i’ve been hurt. again, i hardly think it effective to read and relate about my problems when they have their own, but let’s share (you can share yours, too — we’ll call it even). i had my first relationship with a guy at 15 (by the way, my mom was fine with be being gay, a good thing). he broke my heart, used me to have sex with him, okay, big deal, we’ve been there. basically, i never knew how to date, but then again, at that age who really has the key to success. all i ever knew about gay dating was from the internet or maybe the few movies that were out in the late 1990s, so it was very new. my fondest memory was lance (name protected), i was 17 and he was 18 — he was my first love, it was the best 3 months of my life. i was naive, i was young, innocent — but i gave him my heart, said ‘i love you,’ and expected to be with him forever. well, of course he took my heart and stomped all over it when he told me, ‘he had to take his ‘i love you’ back because he wasn’t sure he did’ — and left me for a shriveled up waste.

cue ana

always had eating problems all my life. my mother would always buy my love not only in gifts but food. when she would leave for the night to go visit her boyfriends (which always came first), i would have food to eat, good food — always had the best delivery and things of that nature, i could eat whatever i wanted! what a dream! okay, it’s a dream until you realize you are 255lbs and 5’10” and a complete waste of life. i experimented with phen phen and ephedra, legal at the time. i always looked older for my age, so i never had problems buying the diet pills. i was young, so i had no idea how they affected me — some nights, i’d go to bed literally having my heart race so fast i didn’t think i’d wake up, crying myself to sleep. long story short, i did it all — puked into garbage bags, chewed and spit (look it up if you don’t know), excersised for hours and hours on end, pushed myself to mental and physical exhaustion — until in about, 4 months, i weighted a slimmer, 170lbs and that’s no joke number.

i am a perfectionist who’s 100% ocd

in my life, i never see there are limits. i don’t think that you can get anywhere in life if you put yourself in a mold. so, when i wanted to lose weight, i just did it. i didn’t think for once i couldn’t do it, i just pushed myself until i got there. and funny, as i slimmed more and more, my goals got bigger and bigger… until at 170lbs, i wanted to keep going and going… for years it was like that. i feel my poor relationships only fueled this insecurity in my body image, always looking for some kind of way to feel good about myself and proud of how i looked.

relationships are like drinking rat poison smoothies with little umbrellas

i really dislike them now. i use to wear my heart on my sleeve, trust anyone, give myself completely. not anymore. after lance, it was a string of men, randy (protected again), justin, justin (yeah same name) and doug. i thought i loved all of them. i said my ‘i love yous’ they said theirs — and they all fizzled away and left me for a chump. i engaged in unsafe sex for these people, now, i can’t even imagine doing that (hiv- by the way, and now i will always remain that way, never again — and if you are reading this and having unprotected sex, stop it, love doesn’t last forever). i blame the media. i blame the media portraying gay men as promiscuous because it empowers them (okay, us). truthfully, all my relationships ended on terms of distance, but afterwards, they all became highly slutty. you know, i am not bashing anyone when i say they are sluts, because you don’t know who they are, just to make that clear. they literally sleep with lots of people and probably have all sorts of diseases (okay, i am a being a bitch there).

what does this have to do with anything?

it’s me word vomiting. i don’t know if people will listen or care, but i am just exposing myself to the world. tonight, i had an awful, awful turn out to a big media event i was in and it just made me feel like shit. when i get down, i start thinking about bad things, a typical humanistic response. so, i started to think how pathetically single i’ve been for 3 months and how i, for the first time in my life, never want to date again — and how it’s likely my anorexia is in full swing again. anorexia is something i am going to constantly battle with (again, no sympathy, please). i hardly think it’s me looking good in a particular size, either. sometimes, i like to starve myself because i make myself feel like i can control my world better, or sometimes because i want to punish myself for being such a falsity. either way, food is always the enemy.

so, culprits, thank-you for reading. if you have read, respond.

i am going to keep this blog going, so until next time,

‘truthfully yours,’

– the gold-plated chameleon.