The David Cure?

**Note--I wrote this in the bleak, early morning hours after "Project Graduation," a community-hosted (all-night) event held immediately after the commencement ceremony of high school graduation. I tell you this for two reasons: the first is that I did not edit myself upon rereading (excepting basic spelling and grammar difficulties), thus I beg that you do not judge my rhetoric harshly. The second is that I cannot say why I posted this entry weeks after I wrote it, although I have a feeling that I am finally reaching into the intangible web that the blogosphere is in hopes of emotional recovery. We shall see.**

Yesterday was my official graduation from high school, and the consequences of this rite of passage are almost as frightening as I assumed they would be. I could talk about the new responsibilities bequeathed me, such as financial obligations, work-related stress, and the onus of being the future generation responsible to find solutions to pollution, starvation, prejudice, and diminishing resources. However, of all of the burdensome gifts that graduation inevitably brings, I find the majority of my struggles surrounding one person. David has been consuming my mind and heart for the past couple of weeks, and I come to the blog (which is, in its purest level, coming unto journaling, which is coming unto myself) in desperate search for answers. This is no passive attempt, for a passive answer is only sufficient for a passive seeker, and my broken heart is passionately waning, in need of great healing.

The beautiful wound that calls himself David has been one of my greatest blessings and trials ever since my feelings for him grew the beginning of last year. It didn’t take long for my longing soul to recognize his; he was an intelligent, confident, reserved, and beautiful man. In all ways, I admired and became infatuated with this guy. I subsequently enjoyed some of the most bittersweet of all my life’s days. I would dream of the next time that I could see him, have a quick word, or catch his subtle smile. I also experienced the most inexplicable depression that year. My feelings for David became so strong that they drove me to change; I knew that I could no longer live with the then-present situation. Whether the solution was death, therapy, or a desperate confession of my love, my starved soul simply would not let me continue in the suppressed fashion that had been its previous course.

Thus, I chose to open up to my parents, two of the most excellent people to have ever graced the earth with their presence. They sensed my despondency and immediately helped me find purpose in life again. I began seeing a counselor about same-sex attraction. I found Evergreen International. I read a thousand books about change, mental health, and the beauty of the gospel. And I attribute all of this to David, the only man wonderful enough to cause me enough sorrow to be forced to change (Ironic?).

I found new perspectives and ways to cope. I tried to befriend David to bring our friendship to something more fulfilling (emotionally). I learned to release some of my own fears and psychoses. I accepted both my manliness and my homosexuality. I changed drastically, but my feelings for David were a constant. Amidst my personal evolution, the constant passion for David remained.

To sum things up in a somewhat more expedited manner, I began to realize as my high school time quickly escaped my grasp that things have not changed. I have officially spent the entirety of my junior and senior years admiring David. As classes came to a close and commencement activities began, much of my joy crumbled beneath me. I felt guilt for loving so strongly someone who will never return that love. I felt sorrow that, unlike other gay "crushes" that I have had, my feelings for David were not fleeting or temporary. I felt shame that, as my best friend was enjoying anniversaries with his girlfriend, I still go home at night and wonder what it’s like to love and be loved on an intimate level like that. And I feel sheer confusion at the fact that, two years, many books, and even more counseling sessions later, I still think David is the most perfect, lovable man that I have met.

And this week, it has all been exacerbated. I spoke with him frequently and have seen him at all of the extracurricular activities associated with graduating. We’ve talked about senior pictures and summer plans. And all of our time together only proves to a stronger point the limited time we have before we forever depart. Yesterday, after graduation, he approached me and waited his turn to talk to me. When I finished my previous conversation, David and I hugged, and he told me that I was "the classiest man [he had] ever known." And then we talked for a moment, and as he walked away a hollowness filled me. As I drove to an all-night party hosted by the community ("Project Graduation"), tears wouldn’t even come; all that I felt was numbness. The most intense pain dwelt inside me. I cannot describe it as anything other than one of the heaviest weights that I have ever experienced, having tangled itself around and throughout my soul for years. And last night I finally felt the full weight of it, and it was hell.