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By Kazz Falcon

  Granny was lonely for a while. I wanted to keep her company. I asked Mum about it. She thought it was a great ideal. Bro used to live with her till he moved back to Mum’s place. I figured I could do. I will have my own privacy too. It’s every guy’s dream to have privacy. Granny and I were off to a fabulous start.
  I fixed up my bedroom. I had posters of rock stars – Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, Madonna, Guns N Roses, Skid Row, Motley Crue, Whitesnake, Tom Petty, Metellica, Midnight Oil, King Diamond, Poison, Europe, and others. Of course, Granny complained about the posters. She wanted me to take them down, but I refused. It ticked me off. I felt like Granny was trying to control my life. It was my bedroom, not hers. I had my own bathroom too. My bed was by the front yard’s window.
  I was proud to have freedom from my family. I just want to live my own life. Nothing else matters. I can be my gay self, but I was still in the closet from my family. They just won’t understand, even the students in high school. I was in the twelfth grade.  Even at school, I can’t be myself. I remembered there was a gay student in my PE class. I thought he would be a great friend for me, but I didn’t have the freaking nerves to be his friend. The students will assume I was gay, which I was in the closet. It was such a shame that I listen to peer pressure. I really need someone who understand me and know where I was coming from. I don’t think he last long in the school. I hardly saw him that much.
  Some friends in the first period noticed I wasn’t happy. I broke down in tears that I was depressed and thought about suicide. I really don’t believe in suicide. I thought that was the best way to end the homosexuality. I can’t go on living a sinful life. In my mind, being gay was a sin. The world crucified me on the cross for being gay. I faced extremely pressure from the so-called Baptist religion. I was brought on to believe it was a sin. I had no one to turn to.
  I put everything feelings on paper and put it in a folder. I stapled the folder together. I “accidentally” left it for my friends. I skipped some classes to gather my feelings. I showed up for the fourth period math class after lunch. The teacher sent me to the counselor.  In turn, Mum was waiting for me in the office. The counselor set me up with a real professional shrink that day.
  Mum took me to see the shrink. I kept quite. I want the feelings to go away. I don’t want mum to know about me. I feared she would disown me. I sat down in the shrink’s office. Everything was a huge blank. I didn’t confess all to him. I made up some stuff. He realized I wanted attention. Boy, the shrink got it all wrong. I was going through a crisis and that was the best the shrink can think of. I probably saw him once or twice. To me, seeing a shrink was a waste of time and money. It was back to my sorry state of a life.
  As time goes on, I became increase unhappy with my life. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have that many friends, I truly felt I was an outsider! I was being made fun of for being “different” in more ways than one. I can’t stand my life. Why, oh why did God make me this way? I just wanted to be normal like everyone else. Something bound will happen sooner or later, but the worst happened in the art class.
  I came upon an art on a table. It was quite disturbing. The art was Fags gets Aids. A guy bent over to be top by another guy. My stomach turned upside down. The teacher didn’t do anything about it. No one confess to the art. I couldn’t go on with the class and walked out, crying. I won’t be a part of prejudice against homosexuals. It was uncalled for. The art still dawned in my mind to this day. It was hard to forget something like that. I wished I did something, except to cry. I would probably say something like this, “Look, it is your mother and daddy.” That will get them madder as hell. Hey, I can play dirty too.
  After that hateful incident, I went home, crying. The next day, a Saturday, I need some time alone. I headed to Camp Bowie. I got something to bite at McDonald’s. I had a Big Mac, fries and coke. I came upon a newsstand. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I never knew they exists – hardcore gay magazines. I thought only straight people have them. The gay lifestyle was so new for me. Boy, I got an eyeful with those magazines. I was there about an hour. This blonde dude was cruising me. I was gut wrenching nervous. It was my first time to cruise by another guy.
  I didn’t stick around that long. My nerves took over. I went on my merry way. The same guy followed me in his car. Oh, boy! Now, what? Should I duck into some bushes? Well, I continued walking down the street with the magazines I brought. He honked at me. I suddenly stopped for him. I might as well to get it over with. He picked me up. We chatted for a little while. We noticed there was a cop car following us. We both played it safe. Damn, the cop turned on his sirens. That guy pulled over, but the cop turned around and went the other way. Man, that was a very close call. We both thought he was on our tail for prostitution.
  The blonde wanted to know if I want to come over later in the day. I got what he mean. First, he needs to talk to his boyfriend. They both wanted to try a threesome for the first time. I was intrigue; I gave him my phone number. He dropped me off at Ridgemar Mall. I walked the rest home. I explained I was at the mall for a while. I looked at the magazines in private. Granny knocked on the door. Dear lord! I thought she was getting her hair done. I quickly hide the magazines under the mattress. I let her in my room. Granny wanted to know where I was. After all, I didn’t leave a note. I mentioned I was at the mall, searching for work. Yeah, right.  Granny wants me to leave a note from now on. I seldom do! LOL. It was none of her business. I was old enough; I was 18 year old.
  The phone rang. I rushed to get it before she did. That was the blonde. He talked things over with his lover. I can come over. I gave him my home address. He picked me up. I was nervous. He gave me a cocktail to drink. It calmed my nerves. We were relaxed with each other. We ended up in the bedroom and did our thing! I found the threesome very interesting and fun. I was proud of my first threesome. It was pretty awesome. He offered me some money. Huh? I don’t need the money. He gave me it any way. Damn, he gave me about $100. Woah, I felt like a prostitute! If prostitute made that kind of money, I will continue to be a damn whore. He dropped me off at my place.
  I took up smoking. Life wasn’t getting better. I need something to calm me down. I was out of sorts that trouble became my middle name. I don’t care. I was living on the edge of the point of no return. I grew further from my family and friends. I was still out of work. I become very desperate; no one seems willing to hire me. They believed I was this freak of nature. Oh well! Sadly, I started to steal money from Granny. It wasn’t one of my proud moments.
  Granny takes care of the babies on Sundays and Wednesdays at church. Stealing was a habit. I mostly steal from her on Wednesday nights after she came home from church. They paid her in cash. One time, she was busy in the kitchen. I snuck in her bedroom. I found her purse. I rushed down the hallway. Granny entered the hallway with her supper. Holy crap! I was caught! Damn! Quick thinking; I held her purse with my right hand behind me. I feared that she would figure something was up. I froze as she spoke then she went on her way to her bedroom. I entered my bedroom and locked the door. I was glad I wasn’t caught. I got the money from her purse and put the purse on the living room chair.        
  A while later, Granny entered my room. My nerves shot up big time. Oh, brother, what now? I saw she was holding her purse. She thought she put it in her bedroom. I mentioned that she was getting forgetful in her old age. She believed she was. She laughed it off. Thank goodness! I was safe for the time being. It didn’t stop there. I continued to lie, cheat and steal from Granny. With an old lady, you can get away with anything, including murder!
  Speaking of murder, my friend, John Molinar, and I almost kill her in my bed. We just got back from the movies. I wanted to play a mean trick on John. I couldn’t find Granny anywhere in the house. The close was clear for him. We hung out for a while. John opened the door and almost jumped on Granny in my bed! He will have killed her too, but he stopped right on time. He can’t believed he almost crush her to death. I started to laugh about it. That will be perfect. I won’t have to put up with Granny any longer, no more nagging from her.
  John called it a night and went home. I woke up Granny. She went to her bed to sleep. I will never forget the look on his face. It was priceless! We promised we would never spoke of it ever again. John didn’t want a criminal record. Please! John was innocence of the supposed crime; he had no knowledge of Granny in my bed. The police won’t press charges against him. Me, on the other hand, that was a different story; I knew she was sleeping in my bed.

  I continued on the destruction road, where I became a deceiving manipulate bitch. I was surprised no one kills me yet, even to this day. I managed to get out of tough spots throughout the years.
  Things weren’t getting any better between Granny and me. I came in late during the nights. Hey, I got to make money from prostitution. Granny needed her money to pay the bills and the food. I won’t even help her around the house. I have a busy life to keep up with. I need my rest for the men. I wanted to get my own phone line, but she was against it. Sometimes, she unplugs the phone at night; she started that after getting the calls during the night. I hated that very much.  I couldn’t make any money. Granny believed I was on the phone all the time, which I was.
  I made money on the side on the weekends; the prostitute life became a huge part of my life. I won’t turn down any men. I was getting that damn good at what I do. I wasn’t ashamed of being a tramp. It pays fabulous money. During the week, I will skip school to watch my soaps or make money. Few men have time in the daytime during lunch hour. I was the average whore.
  The further I got into the prostitute world, the farthest I got from everyone. I didn’t want to deal with any of them. I just wanted to be my own man and live my own life. I never had the comfort and love from my family. I had a strong desire for a real family. Yet, that strong desire was disappearing. The love of a man and sex was my comfort; the money was great too.
  After graduation at high school, I was more lost than I ever been in my life. I had low self-esteem. I figured I would become something in life. I wanted to be a writer and/or poet. I was never interest in English class. I cheated on the vocabulary tests every time I get. The teacher didn’t suspect a thing; I was a good student. I purposely missed some to get an average grade. I didn’t want to get all aces on every test. She will know something was up with me. My writing won’t take me far in life.  So far, I was wasting my life away to drugs and prostitution.
  I decided to change for the better. I talked to the next-door neighbor, Terry, at the local church, where he works at. My soul was burning inside the hell I was living in. I hoped Terry could straighten out my life. I mentioned it was between us; he just can’t tell my mum or granny. I didn’t lay everything out on the line, just the gay lifestyle. The rest would have blow him away.
  Well, things didn’t go as plan. I figured we would have a sit down talk about religion and being gay. Terry dragged me to this place in Fort Worth on a Wednesday. He explained it was a group that can help me with my feelings. I was happy to hear that. I trusted Terry with my life. We had been neighbors for a long time. I was uncomfortable. I entered the room. The group was going on. I joined a little late. I honestly thought this would be fabulous for me. We were a group of men dealing with the homosexual feelings. We can open up and be ourselves. We won’t be ashamed.
  My world crashed down around me. I gasped for air. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt like Terry blindsided me. I felt betrayal by Terry and by God, our father! The leader mentioned we were misled with the gay feelings to abandon God for a sinful life. That was a big slap across my face. I thought they would help me, not spite me when I was down. I needed God honest answers from them.
    I hated that so-called Christian group with a passion; they tried to convert me into something I wasn’t. How could do they such a thing? I wanted peers to relate to, but I was convicted for being gay. I became more lonely I ever been in my life. I didn’t want to be there. I just wanted a better understanding of my homosexuality. I learned from the Baptist church that it was a sin. I struggled with it. I really don’t need that group or the supposed help. I guessed the group was too good to be true. Terry should be ashamed of himself; some Christian he turned out to be. It was pretty low of him. I was distraught over the group that I ran away from home.

  I took the greyhound bus to Houston. I didn’t leave a note behind. I just took off for a new life. Hopefully, the misery will end. I faced new troubles and problems. I know no one there; it was me, myself and I.  I had hard time looking for a place to crash. I met this black guy. He noticed I was new to Houston. He offered to help me out; I was foolish enough to trust him. We went out of the bus station and walked down the street to his place. We probably walked a long time with my two huge bags. He was acting strangely from the drugs. We arrived at some store. He wanted some money. Damn, what now?
  I should have stay at Greyhound. I will have been safe till I thought something. No, I was dumb to go with him. He claimed he needs some for coke. I feared for my life. He was strong enough; I was a puny little thing. I didn’t want to get into a fight. I did the only thing I could – I gave him the money.  He disappeared out of the door. I didn’t chase him. I learned a valuable lesson; never trust a druggie. They will do anything for pot. I went to the street; hoping I won’t see him. I had few dollars to my name. I walked back to Greyhound. Along the way, I got rid of some things from the bags; they were too heavy to carry all by myself.
  I put my bags in storage and headed for the gay area. I was hungry. I hustled up more cash for something to eat. I had a burger, fries and Dr Pepper. I grabbed the gay newspaper. The French Quarter grabbed my attention in the listings. Hey, I can stay there! It is a lot cheaper than staying at a hotel. I can have some fun with the guys too. Who knows? A guy can take me to his place. I paid the entry fee and a membership. It was quite different from the gay places I have been to. French Quarter was a sex club. I thought there were only the bathhouses. I kept on learning new things about the gay lifestyle.
  This old guy wanted sex from me. EIW. Forget that! I want the same age as me. He was old enough to be my grandfather. I can’t stomach to have sex with a 70-year-old man. It was that sickening, just like the fat men. I found it to be disgusting. They weren’t my type. I refused him, no way, no how! He kept on pestering me. A while pass, I saw him getting it on with another guy. I noticed he have his wallet on him. Hmm, that gave me a thought. He must have lots of cash. Why not?
  No one was near by. I jumped into a dark room. The old man followed me in. He dropped his pants and whipped it out. I must, I must for the money. I need the money really, really badly. As I did my thing, he was too busy to notice I took his wallet from his back pocket. I grabbed all his money and put the wallet on the floor. I excused myself after we did the nasty deed. I counted the money in the restroom. I was impressed. I had over $600. A good job well done! I was quite proud of myself. I stuck around for more action. I can get more money from the men.
  I saw the same old guy with this worker. I wondered what’s up with them. I overheard that he was complaining about his missing wallet. The worker warned him not to hold his wallet on himself before he came in the place. The old man recognized me; he claimed he was with me last. He ordered the worker to check me. He refused; he had no right. They walked up to me. The worker asked, “Was you ever with him?” Before I can speak, another person lied that he was with me for an hour. The worker trusted him. They searched for his wallet. The person mentioned that old man always lost his wallet at this place; he doesn’t trust anyone with his wallet at the place. The workers have easily access to everyone’s personal things; they will rob you too. I was happy to hear that. I won’t be caught at all; the old man was senile.  
  The Asian man introduced himself as Akeno. We were both hungry for something else. Get your minds out of the gutter, guys! We ate at a Chinese restaurant near his apartment. I had shrimp fried rice. He had noodles and soup. He wanted to know more about me. I lied about my life; I have to keep a low profile. I told him that I ran into some trouble earlier in the day. The guy robbed me in the store and took off. I didn’t tell anyone. I just wanted to forget the ordeal. We went to his place for a wild passionate lovemaking in front of all mirrors he placed around us. I think there was about six or seven mirrors. He wanted to see the action for himself; it really turned him on. I spent the night and went on my way after breakfast.
  I spent a day in the park for more shut eye. My first day in Houston, I didn’t get too much sleep; it made me extremely tired. I need my rest for the French Quarter again. I need someone to take me in. I had no place to go. Yes, I have the $600 from the old guy. I need to save that money. I slept for a few hours under a tree. I checked out the gay area. This one guy came out of an alley, horny as hell. He pressured me to have sex with him in the alley. I didn’t have time to fool around. I must save my energy. I just walked away from him. I found the famous dance club, Heaven, that evening. That place was hopping. I wished I could go, but I was pressing against time. The French Quarter awaits this slut.
   FQ was so freaking boring, not enough men was there. I guessed most of them went to Heaven that night. I fell asleep on the couch till closing time. I tried FQ again the next night. It got somewhat better. The guy took me to his place to experience sex in the shower for the first time. It was mine too. I didn’t like it that much. You can do so much in the small bathtub! I almost fell out of the tub. For some odd reason, he brought up his cop brother. We need to hurry. He will be home soon. He doesn’t know that he is gay. What a bummer! If I knew that, I will stay at FQ. That night, I slept in the alley. I stunk like a pig in the morning. It was a mistake to sleep behind a dumpster. I washed myself at Denny's restaurant. I ordered breakfast. Boy, I was very hungry.
  Damn it! I screamed out loud. OMG! My bags at Greyhound! I completely forgot them. I was too busy having sex. I better checked on my clothes. The guy in the next booth asked, “is there something wrong?” I explained my situation, my roomie moved away; I have no place to stay. He was kind enough to take me to the greyhound. I made it on time. My bags were still safe. I asked him for some quarters. He got a good ideal; I can stay with him till I find a place. That was sweet of him. Finally, something good happened in Houston.
  I was surprised that he stays in a motel. I thought he had a house or an apartment. Damn, it wouldn’t work. It was very far away from the city. I wasn’t able to search for work or a place. Top it all, I didn’t know where I was really at. I had no ideal. I was lost. I couldn’t leave. The bus lines were still new to me. I know I will get lost. I wasn’t good with the buses.  I just stayed and did nothing. My soaps, Days Of Our Lives and Young & Restless, kept me company while he works. The part of the favor, I will have sex with him whenever. EIW! I didn’t agree with that. He sprung it off at the last minute. Huh? It was too late to do anything about that.
  He mentioned he was a former preacher. Dear Lord! What I got myself into? He was astray from God and acted on his homosexual feelings. This wasn’t what I need at all. I left Fort Worth to escape the hypocrite religion called Baptist! Now, I hooked up with a former preacher! I was living in sin with a former preacher! Couldn’t things get any worse for me?  But it did! I was freaking bored that I wanted to go home so badly. I don’t need more headaches from anyone and anything!
  I got a crazy ideal. He went to work. I cleared every expensive thing he had. I snuck out before he gets home. I walked a block to the bus stop. I got to leave Houston. It wasn’t working out for me. Running away was a mistake; I must face the problems. No one will solve them for myself. I saw the bus coming down the street. I was on the way home. I was about to walk on the bus. Someone grabbed me from behind. Damn, it was the former preacher. He was angry with me. He demanded me to go back with him or he will call the police on my ass. I couldn’t get into more trouble. It wasn’t worth it.
  He dragged me back to the motel. I was really afraid. He took my key and opened up the bags. He was disappointed. How could I do such a thing? He mentioned he treated me good; he let me stay with him. I broke down in tears. I felt guilty for what I did. I just need some cash. I thought I could take them to a pawnshop. He tossed me on the bed. He hit me a few times. I pleaded with my life. I begged him not to call the police. I was sorry for mistreating him. He didn’t buy my sorry; they were useless. I was in deep trouble.
  He found the $600 in the bag. He became more upset. I begged, don’t take that money. I wanted to go home. He accused me of being thief and a hypocrite. He came upon the one way bus ticket to Houston. He demanded what I was trying to pull. I confessed I never lived in Houston before. The roommate was a lie. I ran away from home. I can’t deal with Granny, the problems and the homosexuality. I wanted to start somewhere new. I gave Houston a try. He felt sorry for me. He can relate about the homosexuality. I wanted real friends and a real family. I was searching for peace and love. Everyone wants that. He was sorry for hitting me. It was really my fault; I stole from him.
  My tears were falling down my cheeks. He saw that I was being honest with him. I really want to go back home. He promised he wouldn’t call the police. He forgave me. He will do something better; he took me to Greyhound and brought a ticket with the money I had. I felt badly about stealing. I repaid him back. I gave him $300 for his troubles I caused. He was grateful for the money. I should pay my debt. I owned him at least that much. He waited with me till I caught the bus home to Fort Worth. He waved me goodbye. Greyhound took me right back to my living hell, the sins of a homosexual.

To be continued........coming soon, the mean things I did to Granny!