What about writing..?

I had a long conversation with my friend this afternoon about many things and that felt very good. Than we spoke about my writings here. He said i was very introvert and in his opinion i have got dark thoughts. At the time i didn`t really find important to stop by to discuss it but than later on i was thinking about it. I read my blogs time after time and i don`t think i have got dark thoughts. I don`t think i see the world dark at all. I may see the world from a different angle and maybe the memories i am writing here are not too happy but i don`t think that`s any bad. My thoughts are very bright though and i believe the irony is what he must have misunderstood for real!

He also said something like blogging is like writing a diary. Well, maybe... And it brought up a story from my childhood a very bad one to remember..

I used to write diary when i was around 12-13 years old and i carried on writing till the age of about 15 when i had my first boyfriend. OMG, i will never forget those days.. ;-)) Well, as a young gay boy i didn`t really dare to speak about me relationship to anyone so i wrote everything down. I thought that can`t be a problem!

One day i finished at school and my mom was waiting for me outside the building in the car. She never used to come to pick me up. I thought she may had decided to go and give a visit to my grandparents and wanted to collect me on the way.

Well, i sat in to the car and she was very calm. She said we were gonna go shopping.. I said alright. I felt something very strange in the air but wasn`t really sure what was going on so just let myself go with the flow.

Than she asked me to change the music and asked me to put another music on. "There are new tapes on the back seat!" -she said. I saw a little bag there with full of stuff so i searched that. I didn`t see any tapes but i found my diary there. "What is this doing in your car mom?" - i asked.

She never replied. Stoped the car and looked at me questioning. I was frightened. "What is going on here mom?" I asked.

Than she put on the question to me. The question i had been always waiting for but never wanted to be asked!! The scariest question in my life.. "Are you gay?" - she asked "Are you a fucking poof for fuck sake?" -she asked again with a sudden rise in her voice.

I was shaking in all over my body and i didn`t know what to say. I knew she had read my diary so there was no point to lie at this state. "Yes, I am!" -i said.

She slapped me and than she slapped me again, than again and again and a while later i found myself siting in the car crying beated up by my own mother. She started the car and drove to home direction. Didn`t say a word to me and i just couldn`t stop crying. When we got home before we got off the car she turned to me. "You know you cannot live like this in this house! I will send you to a boarding school, they will regulate you to live normal! I hope you understand, this is what i have to do!"

Within 2 weeks time i found myself in the boarding school surrounded with all strangers. Over spoiled teenagers, all very proud to be a student of the privileged school! Well, i wasn`t happy at all, i was torn. I was forced to be there and i was taken far away from the one i loved.

After i wrote a draft copy of this memory here in Blogger i was thinking about this all and had another conversation with Richard about the memory brought up. He said i should be happy to have this happened this way to me because this way i got through all the shit in a very early age and i didn`t need to lie the rest of my life to anyone. True, ever since than i was very honest and opened about my orientation. Probably because i wanted to prove how wrong my mother was that time!

Yes, this last conversation opened up my eyes and today i am actually grateful to my mother to have made that decision that day!