“One more minute of this and I’m gonna explode!” I thought as I sat in the counselor office at my prestigious, community college. They weren’t accepting any appointments, and I needed to see a counselor, therefore my only option was to wait endlessly. It had been three hours of worthless waiting. Well, it was sort of worthless; I mean I had the opportunity to think about the lovely encounter by my friend’s pool the previous day.
That’s when I started getting hit hard by the baffling questions from the wee girl in my head. Are you gay? Well, technically you’d be a lesbian if you are even thinking of this girl. Maybe you are gay! Wait, I mean lesbian. I mean, come on! Why the hell haven’t you had a boyfriend in your whole life?
The small voice in my head would only silence itself in between minor flashbacks of Kelly. The demon on my shoulder started making me paint pretty arousing pictures of her…until I realized what was going on with me. “Holy shit!” I shouted in the middle of the counselor’s office. Everyone turned and looked at me like I was nuts, and I highly doubt that this little story is going to prove them wrong.
It was all too clear at that moment. For the first time in my life, my sexuality existed to me. I no longer considered myself “asexual.” What a divine revelation to experience amongst the buzzing of fluorescent lights and old computer towers. I AM human after all!
A guy tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked with sincerity.
“Umm…yeah, I just…hit my funny bone, that’s all. Sorry to wake you up.” I lied to him and I wasn’t really quick witted about it. I should have said something more like, “I’m crazy and I just realized that I’m a homosexual too. Do you know any good therapists?”
“Oh, I hate it when that happens,” he replied with a half smile.
“Yeah, it sucks,” I said in a way that wasn’t really leading on to any other form of conversation. Normally, I don’t cut people off this way, but I had way too much on my mind. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop him…
“Well, if you ever get better from you deadly accident, would you like to maybe hang out sometime and get some pizza or something?” he was smiling all the way now, but he looked terrified. I knew that he worked up a lot of courage to even ask, so I started to feel a bit sorry for him.
“Well, sure,” I answered, but it sounded more like a question; just like all the thoughts in my head at that time.
“Sweet! Do you have any plans tomorrow night?” he asked eagerly – a little too eagerly.
“Um…well, yeah…I have to…” I broke off my excuse and thought for a second. Shit! What do I say? Why did I say yes when I wanted to say no? Then I continued with my lame excuse, “I have to uh…study for my placement exam. I haven’t finished the matriculation process.” That was really lame, Danielle.
“Oh, well can I get your number so that we can hook up some other time?” he asked with one eyebrow raised. “Hook up some other time?” What’s that supposed to mean?
I made up a false number and then figured that I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore after that. BOY WAS I WRONG!

I think I'll call this one: The Dog that Brought Monogamy
By: The Armadillo at Oasismag.com

Note: I wrote this one just a few minutes ago and I didn't really evaluate it yet. Just bare with me here and enjoy if you want. I'll keep writing if I get positive feedback, or if I get bored. Whichever comes first.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Intro:
Imagine that there’s only one person meant for you. In most people’s lives, this is not a fantasy, but a truth. I never believed life to be this way, until she came into mine.

-----------------------------------------------------------
I was unusually friendly with most everyone. As long as they seemed to have a positive attitude, and possibly even a brain, I would talk to them. Perhaps I am naïve, but I’ve always been some what popular with people as a result of this friendly demeanor. Some of my greatest friends just attributed it to ADD. I always thought that was funny because my grades were always better than my friends’ growing up.

I have always been pretty outgoing, to get to the point. Many friends, but I never had lovers.

I grew up pretty Tom-boyish. I loved playing music, and then I got to high school and joined sports. I tried to be a little more girly but it never really seemed to fit my personality. I never thought I could be gay, but then again, I didn’t really have any feelings for anyone. So, I sort of claimed to be “asexual.”

One day in high school, my friends all got bored and decided it was time to play the Ouija Board. They would ask questions like, “Does Chris like me?” or “Does Rusty have a big dick?” Then they would ask me who I liked and when it came to the point of my explaining that I didn’t have any romantic interests, they would just ask, “Who will Danielle marry?” It gave some lame answer, and no one really thought about me much after that. My mother later found out about us playing with the devil’s game, so I stopped playing around with anything like that.

Then one day, we went to a tarot reader at grad night. The woman said that I must be bisexual. My friends laughed and it really sort of embarrassed me, but I kind of thought it was funny too, so I laughed and thought all this mumbo jumbo was just ridiculous. I gave little thought to my sexuality all throughout my adolescent school career.

I went on to become quite the partier the Summer after I graduated. I started to think I was quite the fe-pimp. I would always get drunk and kiss some guy, but I wouldn’t let them get to me. I would often kiss two or three different guys in one night, but it wasn’t for romance. Just for fun. I wasn’t into relationships, since I always knew people to cheat on each other. So I didn’t want to be involved. I always wondered how anyone could settle for just one when they could have many.

Later on, I went to a party and a bunch of my graduating class happened to be there. There was a girl who I used to talk to quite frequently in my math class. She was trying to turn on a group of guys by stating that she wanted to kiss me. I was playing the guitar with a couple of guys and yet I heard this. She then asked me, “Wanna kiss?” and I was disgusted. I thought of her as a friend and nothing more. It didn’t matter how much I had to drink.

So I went on thinking I was pretty asexual. Then one unusual day, I met Kelly. She was absolutely gorgeous, like most people of Brazilian descent. The funny thing is that she was watching me as I swam with my friend’s dog.

Butch, the dog, just loved me and he used to run around “his pool,” trying to catch me from the outside. After a while he would give up and get in the pool to follow me around, biting at the water as it splashed from my limbs.

I was playing with butch keeping him away from my limbs as I splashed at him and swam around, when suddenly I caught a glimpse of the most beautiful human being alive. I kept splashing at Butch, but turned my head to say hello. (You know me and my usually friendly attitude)

“HEY, I’M DAFFFUUUUUUUUCK!!!” That’s when butch accidentally bit my hand rather than the water. Blood started to seep out of my hand as I panicked and swam to the side. “Son of a bitch!” I looked down and three of my fingernails were bruised while blood kept seeping out. I looked up to see if the beautiful woman was still there but she had vanished. Great, I scared her away.

I started walking toward the sliding-glass door to the house, when she returned with a first aid kit. “Hi, I thought you could use this, Dah-fuck.” She said as she laughed with amusement.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I said as she pressed an anti-bacterial wipe against the teeth marks on my hand. “Shhhhhh,” the sting started to hit me.

“Well it’s the least I can do since I think that this is my fault... I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself, I’m Kelly.” She kept pressing against the bite marks, but I was numb to the feeling. I couldn’t get my mind off of the beautiful girl touching me. I didn’t say anything for moment as it seemed as though I was lost. She smelled really good and I must’ve smelled of chlorine.

“Gosh, this is probably gross to you. Also, my name’s not Dah-fuck…” I started to laugh and then continued explaining. “My real name’s Danielle.” She started laughing and I didn’t feel awkward anymore. I just stared at her as she bandaged my hand with perfection.

“Well, your real name is lovelier than the other…and this doesn’t gross me out, I’m working on becoming an RN so I volunteer at the Cassville Hospital. Bed pans, on the other hand, really gross me out.”

“I don’t even want to imagine,” I said as I smiled like an idiot. There was something in her touch that sent chills down my spine. All I could do was just breathe her in as though I was trapped in a basement for years and this was my first breath of fresh air.

Hi there everyone!

I don't come online much since I've moved out and started working all the time. I thought I'd fill you all in on the details of my life. I started playing drums for a punk rock band in Orange County. Work and play filled my days, but I know I should finish school. Then I quit drinking. I started freaking out about going back to school and my best friend, who've I've been in love with for years now, just moved two hours away.

About a weak ago, i found out that one of my band members is a cocain addict and it didn't sit well with me, cause' I was about to start renting a room in her home. I decided not too when I found out about her secret habit and so I went out of state to stay with my folks this week.

I was ready to move back with my family, when my best friend talked me into coming to her home and staying with her so I can go back to school. I reluctantly wanted to come with her, because it's been hell without her. Plus I can finish school with in-state tuition fees.

I long to be in her company again, and I know that we'll get along. That's not the trouble. The trouble is that I don't want to see her with anyone else but me, and I'm not sure how it will be living with her.

We used to spend every waking moment together in Orange County, and it was hard to let her be romantic with others there. Still, I let her live her life her own way and vice verse. I love her as a friend and much more... Believe me she knows. The strange thing, is that at one point she returned my affections, then she turned back to doing things the way she always has. I always thought she wasn't ready for me. So i have vowed to be patient.

I've dated some guys and yet I know in my heart that I love her.

I don't know it's all so confusing really. At least we'll only live together for the semester. THen I want to transfer schools. I don't want to leave her behind, and I don't know if this move will be good for the both of us.

Any advice?

INTRO:

Every day, sitting in a dull building, with dull computer screens, blinking and burning my vision after the long monotonous hours…How is it that we humans have come to believe that this is the way to pay the bills? Why is it that we’re so insistent upon the payment of things, obtaining things, remaining alive with thick, juicy steaks and Japanese SUVs?

I don’t know…but I do it, just like every other American; living the American Dream. Only I’m not an ordinary American. Of course there are aspects of me that seem to be normal, but I think it’s just the fact that I have been conditioned, manicured, and seduced by the so called “status-quo.

It's been a while since I've logged on here...
Here's a poem to get back into the motion of things:

At one point in life,
I didn't have a damn clue
as to why all the greatest songs
and poems are about love.

And everyone probably has some
idea what I'm talking about!

You find someone and give them yer' heart-
And all they did was rip it out!
Then you turned to the music and song
(you might even have hit a bong)

But none of it makes you forget!
That love music makes you crazy!
Screw K-Earth! Screw Love Songs!
Give me Death METAL!!!
Give me a cigarette!!!

And so, everyone must know what
I'm talking about...
Unfortunately!
So here's a un-love poem, by me!

Every now and again
We feel as though
Some things never end.

I try to fight this…
But sometimes I feel
Like I don’t have a fist.

And when it’s over,
I realize that it ends.
Then I wait for something
To happen…

“Feast or Famine,

The Night I Sang the Unheard Song

The moment I first kissed you; I knew.
The way you tasted, the way you smelled.
The way you tried to hesitate;
The way you were held.
I trully knew that I love you.

It was odd, though…because I felt
As though I knew before I first kissed you.
Not knowing whether it would happen or not,
I fastened that feeling tightly to my heart;
The heart that held the unheard song.

That one night at the party,
When you invited me to sleep with you.
I knew what I was not supposed to do.
Fighting the feelings, the urges, the wrong.
My heart began to sing the unheard song.

Although I heard the angel on my shoulder whisper,
I had to give-in, just for one moment w/ my friend.
The caressing pull I felt from you;
My magnet of lebanon…
I could no longer fight what I’ve been fighting for too long.
I had to let out some of the unheard song.

It amazes me still, how easily we connected.
How we became inseparable friends;
How quickly I was affected.
I knew then what I re-learned at the party.
The kiss which couldn’t have been all that long;
The night I sang the unheard song.

Umm…like Turkish Delight

I’m in your car, whilst you drive.
The feeling of love is so alive.
I know where I live and you do too,
But when we approach my street,
You drive on through.

“Shall we have a smoke?

Try not to focus,
if you do, you might screw up.
Let it feel natural,
and "go with the flow!"
Don't be a poker!
Be a stroker...
Then you'll be sure to
get it in the hole.

So she knows how i feel about her. That was a quarter of the battle...I thought at one time that that was halft the battle, but it isn't. It seems to have complicated our friendship. Like, ordinary arguments between friends, turns into an emotional battle. I don't like to fight, well, not with words anyway...but I do it. I suck!
Yeah, I belittle myself a bit too. Sometimes I feel like I need to seek professional help. I'm on here because I need to vent much, I have people to talk to in real life - but I don't, and it's eating me alive.
What's worse, is that she often makes statements about how she has no idea what my "type" is, because i never talk to her about it. DAMNIT!! I wish she could just understand that I'm not over her in anyway...no matter how many times she kisses me and tells me we can't be, or tells me we can never be, or how many times she has to tell me who she's been with or what not.
I can't figure it out! All i can do is love her anyway! People wonder about me...I know, and I'd like to say i don't care, but deep down...it hurts to not be open about myself. To not really be able to understand myself.
The few people who i have told, basically made me feel like they didn't care, but that they know that I'm really not homo. Like being homo is the end of the world. No wonder homosexuals commit suiced so often. People are so unaccepting of us as individuals and collectively, that it's easier to bottle everything up, with the exception of talking about it online.
I'm sorry if I've offended anyone or if this is so pessimistic that you're now depressed too. So I'm gonna stop writing.

You know that crayon in the box,
That hasn’t been sharpened since you opened it?
Your favorite color;
the one you
Always use for the sky-
Even though it looks
Nothing like it?
That small, blue crayon,
Weathered by masterpieces.

That crayon is me.
Imperfect.
Unsharpened…
But you love me anyway.
And I see the way you look
At the white crayon.
Perfect in everyway.
Unblemished;
unused…
Infact I saw you turn away
In boredom.

You picked up another color
That you like to use to make
Lips look like blood.
It pleased you to see the
Intense beauty in each jolt
Of your wrist.
Then, when there was nothing
Left to stain with this new color,
You realized how empty everything
Else was without me.
And, once again,
I was in your hand.

I am the crayon that soothes you.
Calming with motion,
Sometimes used for the ocean.
But I can be vibrant too.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so formulated;
I wish that one day,
I'll abandon my schemes.
And if you really know me,
you could see
that all of my chaos
is scheduled and rehearsed.
I kinda wish this habbit would
just die and be sent off
on a hurse,
but I guess it could be worse.