Emotions are a strange monster. One minute, life is wonderful and you’re happy, or at least, content, with how your life has progressed, how you look, and your collection of friends, experiences and accomplishments. The next moment, you’ve plunged into a level of darkness never before reached, doubting your skills, your worth and your entire existance.

I struggle a great deal with my emotions. I feel, and when I do, I feel intensely. I wish that I was a more rational and thoughtful person, but it has been my burden to experience my existence through emotions instead. I feel the sunrise and sunset and I feel the music that pumps through my headphones. I envy the person that can detach and go about their day without giving a thought to their emotions, without becoming despondent that their day has not gone as planned.

I went to bed last night content. I was on a good path. I had a plan for pulling myself out of the rut I’ve fallen into o’er the last few years. I had a plan for my workday. Something to get me out of the house and in front of people where I could be social without fearing rejection. By noon, that all changed. I decided to stay in and make telephone calls instead. So I smiled and I dialed. I called new prospects. I called old contacts. I checked in and felt like I was intruding on their day, telling myself they didn’t mind the distraction, but I could hear in their voice that they did. They reacted to my call with suspicion and trepidation. “What is he calling for?” I felt them saying silently.

Later in the day, my home telephone rang. Crazy Michael was inviting me out, helping to keep me connected with life. I can get very isolated in my line of work, where I can spend an entire week without interaction if I so choose, and many times, I have. These stretches of time where I am solitary do great damage to my self-esteem. I question my place in this world. Where do I fit in? What is the reason for me being here? At least the breeders have a stock answer that is universal. Straight people are intrinsically here to reproduce and keep the species alive, and hey, if you can improve things while you’re here, without too much trouble to yourself, then that’s a nice bonus. But what about us gays/lesbians/bisexuals/transgender? What is our place in the greater scheme of things?

My hills have become steeper and my valleys deeper as I’ve progressed through this life and this frightens me horribly. I tell myself that its just life, that it will improve. But what if it doesn’t? What if I’ve already peaked? What if there is a limited amount of happiness assigned to each person’s life when they are born and it is up to them to ration that happiness out over their lifetime? What if I wasted all of my happiness in drug fueled moments in dark loud dance clubs with strangers that I loved intensely while they were sitting next to me, never to be seen again?

I hold out hope for a happy future, filled with love, and light, and intimacy but I also believe that my last attempt broke something in me. Shattered my innocence in a way nothing else has ever managed.

I’m damaged goods. I have baggage, and no amount of fancy packaging will change that fact. No BMW, Louis Vitton, Coach, or Gucci will change the hurt and pain that fills me and frankly, that comforts me some.

But the fact of the matter is that I’ve been treading water in this great city of mediocrity. Treading water for such a long time that I’m tired. My failures are weighing me down and my will to keep my head above the surface has diminished. Will I drown in this den of inactivity and loneliness, will someone reach in with a branch for me to grab onto and pull myself out, or will I start to swim out of the dark waters on my own?