Dependency

The sun is slowly starting to set in LA after a rainy day. I am sitting at one of my school library's many computers surrounded by frustrated students who are either trying to finish up homework assignments or are just simply surfing the web trying to kill time. As you can see; I am one of the ones trying to kill time.
I have been here for almost three hours now. I came here to send out e-mails to members of the Latino Student Union encouraging them to keep attending to the club’s meetings. This came as a result from a pep-talk that one of my “new” college friends gave me after he said to me, “talk to me buddy” and then I proceeded to bitch and moan at how miserable my life has become this semester. However, instead of actually sending out those e-mails, I found myself reading a collection of short stories written by the man I thought I was falling in love with.
When I say that I “thought” I was falling in love with him, it means that ever since he came into my life, my mind has become a slave of his and I cannot stop thinking about him every damn period of the day.
It is clear to me that this man wants absolutely nothing to do with me when it comes to a relationship or “romance.” However, whenever I’m around him, he makes everything a boyfriend does in a relationship—he calls me baby, tells me how “adorable” I am, or simply opens and holds the door for me. I know what you are all probably thinking, and yes, I concur with you—I over think and overanalyze too much. It feels like the melodrama in my life was placed in my genes just like my homosexuality, my black hair, or even my dark brown sad-looking eyes. Although my homosexuality, my hair, and my eye color are things I cannot change, I have grown to love them and appreciate them all. The melodrama in the other hand, not so much.
I have never been a fan of dependency and after reading those short stories written by the man who I believed to be the man of my dreams just months earlier, I know that this is why he doesn’t want anything to do with me in a “romance” level. After reading those short stories is when I had a “EUREKA!” moment… an epiphany if you will, and came to the realization that quite frankly, I don’t want anything to do with him either.
I refuse to be a grown man’s boy toy and I refuse to let him over-cloud my happiness. I have come to the determination that I will not reach out to this man unless he reaches out to me first. I want to be the exception of his hidden-agenda, not just simply an addition to his wild desires. I want to be able to be me whole-heartedly around him without fear of losing him. I want so many things in life, and after listening to that pep-talk from my friend, I realize that I have to work and fight in order to obtain those things. And so I guess this is it, this is the beginning of my romantically-challenged self’s battle. After all, it is better to have a distant friendship than a bad romance. With that said…

Peace, Love, and Magic!

José D. :)