First blog ever

I created this blog because I am a 23 year old gay black guy from Alabama. To some people that first sentence may create a seriously profound image in their minds eye. To others, they could care less. Maybe they have lived the wonderful and privileged life of a straight person. Maybe they have lived as one of those people who are freakishly gorgeous and have awesome parents who have always supported them and have always been awesome with people. I am unfortunately neither of those people and you may cordially go to hell for your advantageous lives (that was a joke, please don't be offended). But because of the fact that I haven't had the ideal life that some have, I have developed some problems with myself, and more precisely my sexuality. So I guess I am writing not only to help myself get the hell over this, but also to educate people of the real issue that is facing me and people like myself.

I guess I should start this off by actually explain the Limony Snicket freak show that has been my life up until this point. I first realized that I was attracted to men when I was 4 years old. I know it sounds weird but in my defense I lived in a very sexually stimulated environment. My mother was (and still is) hopelessly addicted to crack cocaine. My biological father was her dealer. At the age of three I moved from Pensacola Florida with my mom to a beautiful SHITHOLE in the middle of ass crack and rim job known as Carrollton Alabama. I am not sure of the details but I have been told that my mother and father had gotten into a fight and my father hit her in the head with a hammer while I was in her arms.

Anyway, my mother finally figured that she had found love in a man named Cedric Quinton Randolph. They were married and I now had a new, seemingly wholesome and loving family. Cedric was the minister of Providence Baptist Church. What town this church was in I don't remember, nor do I care to.

Now I know that you are probably thinking why the hell you need to know about all of this. Maybe you are thinking that I need to stop rambling on about nothing and just get to the point already, but I assure you that this all ties into things that you need to know.

So like I said, I knew I was gay when I was four. I even knew that it was called being gay, and whats more, that the actual term was being a homosexual. My family was horribly christian, and in saying that I am not saying that christians are horrible, I am just saying that my family is on the horrible and overzealous end of the spectrum. Along with the knowledge of the fact that I was gay I also developed a serious curiosity about sex. I heard my mother and stepfather all the time. My mom is quite vocal during sex and could care less who hears her. So I started seeking out people with which to explore these feelings with. Somehow I chose Cedric, my stepfather. Now I don't know what possessed me to make this decision. Any child, no matter how messed up they are, would probably have the common sense to know better than to advance sexually upon their stepfather, who also just happened to be angry and abusive, and was a FIRE AND BRIMSTONE SOUTHERN BAPTIST PREACHER. Well apparently I had a great sixth sense for this kind of thing because it worked. After hungrily staring down his crotch during the morning rerun of Major Dad, I made it with my daddy. I was six years old.

After that I never connected with people anymore. I didn't want to have anything to do with anyone except books, Cedric, and my mother. I have never loved anyone more than I loved her then. I knew that she was a crackhead. I had overheard my grandmother and other relatives talking about her on several different occasions. But she was my mother. She would encourage me when I was down, run into my room when I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because I had a nightmare from watching Nightmare on Elm Street or Childs Play. But this would all soon disintegrate. My aunt caught my stepfather and I having sex and told my grandmother. We were soon embroiled in a court battle over my custody and Cedrics punishment.

Cedric had his own plans though. On April 21, 2009, Cedric committed suicide in our garage. Soon afterward my mother regained custody of me, but she never looked at me the same again. Where she had once made a point of holding me for hours, she now barely even looked at me anymore. She started drinking more and she was almost constantly high. I tried to get her attention but she would never receive me. At the age of nine, I finally resorted to sneaking around and just looking at her, longing for her to love me again.

I soon lost the ability to care about anything. I was completely numb most of the time. I started to enjoy things like fire and dead animals that I found in the woods. but even here I still had a tiny sliver of hope, my cousins Mark and Elgin. They were the last people I had in the world. We would run in the woods all day and play in this old barn house in the middle of the woods. Those woods were my place to escape from everything. There I was hidden from the world. Pain didn't exist there. There was only freedom. Freedom from my mother, freedom from my slipping grades that my teachers had started harping on me about, and because of Mark and Elgin, freedom from feeling like a freak. Never mind that EVERYONE in our small town knew that I had been molested by Cedric. Or that kids at school that I didn't even know would come up and ask me questions about it. Not even the fact that all the boys in school avoided me and called me nasty mattered. We ran through the woods and played and climbed trees like the land belonged to us.

But lo and behold, fate had one more sucker punch for me. My mother and my uncle (Mark and Elgins grandfather) started to argue over Cedric's estate. He owned some land and the house that he and the rest of his siblings had all grown up in. Now they wanted it all back. For a while our trio stayed under the radar. Then one day someone finally had the bright idea that we shouldn't play with each other anymore. I went over to their house to ask if they could come out and play and was told no. I went home thinking nothing of it. Maybe they were in trouble, maybe they weren't even home. But more and more I kept getting turned down until finally my mother told me that I shouldn't play with them anymore. The last real memory I have of Mark and Elgin were when my mom and I were in the garage getting ready to go to my grandmothers house. Our garage opened up right across from my uncles front yard. Somehow an argument had started between he and my mother. I didn't listen to them, I just stared at the last two people I have ever connected with until I was told to get into the car.

Pretty soon my mom started getting way bad with the crack. She stopped paying the gas bill and cooked in a crock pot or the microwave. Suddenly the truck disappeared. She claimed it had been stolen but I didn't even need to hear my grandmother say that was bullshit to know the truth. The moment the truck disappeared she had somehow acquired a beat up old Toyota. A nine year old should never have a working knowledge of the truck, car, crack bartering system. I was finally taken in by my grandmother and on to my Aunt. I started to cry uncontrollably at the weirdest times for no reason at all. I once shaved off all the skin of my upper arm in an attempt to get my mother to look at me.

My aunt had finally had enough. She admitted me for therapy at an outpatient place called Indian Rivers. When that didn't work I went to The Catalyst Center in Tuscaloosa. They finally admitted me into U.A.B. hospital for a thirty day evaluation that turned into seven straight years of hospitalization.

By the time I turned thirteen I had another problem on my hands, actual horniness. Up until that point sex was just a game to me, a funny little curiosity sweetened by the forbidden fruit angle. Now it was a primal urge. I had never masturbated. I had never had my penis stimulated or even touched for that matter. I now finally understood what all the fuss was about. I started to explore these new feelings with the only people I could, the other patients in the hospitals. The way I was looking at the world was now changing. I started reading a lot and I only talked to the people who were in the places I was being kept who were their for depression. They were the most normal, and I was one of them. In a strange way I had begun to belong.

Sooner or later though, I was caught having sex. My parents didn't like this at all. I was told that I was going to be put into another facility that would help me deal with the sexual problems that I was having. This made absolutely no sense to me. Two of my cousins were the fathers of a combined three children and they were only nineteen. They still lived with their mothers and didn't even attempt to get a job save for the one with two kids and he sold crack (my mother was one of his loyal customers). I knew exactly why I was going to the place I was going. I could see it in their faces and hear it in their voices as they told me. I could feel it in the way my aunt would talk to me up close but my boy cousins would keep distance from me. I was gay and I was nasty, therefore I needed to be fixed so that I would not become what Cedric was as they told me. It couldn't be a pedophile, I only went for people who were older than I was.

I thought that I would only be going to another hospital, I was in for the sickest surprise I have ever had. The place I was sent to was called Three Springs, it was in Courtland Alabama, and it was a sex offender facility. When I had my intake I was assured that I was not a sex offender but that I would be inside with other sex offenders. I sat there in quiet outrage. I could handle being a faggot, I even sometimes liked to be called one when I was giving head, but nothing this nasty. My view of sex has not been the same since. Seeing that I was in a facility chock full of sexual deviants, many of whom weren't sexual deviants at all but in fact were in the exact same position that I was in, I saught out to repay my gaurdians in the best way I saw fit. I fucked everyone I could get my hands on, within reason of course. As long as you were older than I was and said yes, I would at the very least blow you off. It was my one man sexual revelution. I forrmed a small clique consisting of three other people. two of them were in my situation. Our only crime was being southern cocksuckers. The other one was a pedophile that one of the other guys in the clique had fallen in love with. It disgusted me but the guy had a nice personality which made it both easier and worse. Sometimes I would just watch him interact with other people and wonder if he had evolved his golden tongue from years of eading a double life of porking little kids.

Then one day I saw his penis. It was one of the most glorious things I have ever set eyes upon. I soon obtained my first boyfreind. I knew that it was pathetic and loathsome, but I was then and am now a size queen. I started blowing wang when I was six, I'm sorry but I enjoy things that fill my mouth and this thing brought tears to my eyes.

About a year progressed and I had not done any of the things that I was required to do to graduate the program. Why did I need to? I wasn't a fucking chimo, I didn't need to do anything that I didn't want to, and therefore I didn't. I got into a fight and was finally sent to court. The judge ordered that I go home until another placement was set up for me. It was the first time in six years that I had been in the outside world. My sisters had grown from toddlers to wide eyed adolescents. I found a love for taking baths in tubs and I slept all day in my mothers king sized bed. My mom had been clean from drugs and alcohol and I have never been more proud of another human in my life. I actually began to appreciate the fact that i had been locked away in those places because now everyday was like being in a theme park. I cooked with my mother and took care of Cedrina and Melanie.

For three glorious months I lived like a little prince. I ate real food and not that cafeteria shit that I had been sustaining myself on for years. I went outside whenever I pleased and began to appreciate fresh air like I had never thought possible. I was finaly alive again. Then, as quickly as it began, it was taken away. I was put into yet another sex offender facility for being gay. This time though, I didn't care. I had tasted freedom, and I was gluttonous for it. I tried my best to behave, but sooner or later I became attracted to the boys. I was so angry, it was so unfair. I should be able to be with them. I started to get depressed again, and then I started having sex again.

But something started to happen this time, I started drinking their kool aid. I criminalized my sexuality. I told myself that my sex drive wasn't normal. I finally went off the deep end, I started reading the bible. I studied it like a monk. I prayed and asked god to destroy the demon inside me causing me to think in this way. But it was to no avail. It seemed like the more I prayed, the more I was attracted to men. I would shut my eyes tight and try to take the attraction away from the thought of men. My anger got worse and so I took it out on the one place that was the best outlet, the faces of the straight boys around me. Up until then I had never really won a fight. I was always the one who ran away. Now I made people fear me and I was becoming addicted to it. The very people who were making fun of me at one time now listened to me. I realized that I had never actually known my own strength. Now the nerd was the bully.

I turned eighteen and and got into a fight with this guy who I was actually only attracted to and the facility had seen enough. I was arrested and finally out of the system for good, only to see the real world, and this shit tends to suck sometimes.