3

Maybe it can’t be done, I think to myself. Maybe that’s why child sexual abuse is such a big deal -- because its effects are permanent.

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I forgot I had the window open from when I was typing. Mace__ came over to look at the movie I was watching on my laptop, and I forgot to close it. He said all the words he saw were ‘my power.’
_What are you writing all the time?_ He asked.
_Maybe it’s not about me,_ I replied.
The next day he joked about it.
_All I caught of what you were typing was the words _my power._ I don’t know what that means, but I could see you writing things like, few are aware of _my power._ he said, stretching the words out. _About how you stay in the background and feign incompetence, but really you’re controlling everything and they have no idea. As cocky as you are, yeah I could see you typing away about something like that._
_Cocky? I’m not cocky._
_Chuck -- I hate to be the one to break it to you -- but the way you see yourself, and the way everyone else sees you, are two completely different things._

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This is not my first dealing with that power.
My power, and the Quality Tolle refers to regularly -- are the same thing.
On June 1^st I called it the Masculinity, because that’s what it felt like. It suddenly infused everything I did, it cleared my head of words, and made my bones and pumping blood aware to me.
When I lose it -- when I can’t feel it anymore -- I call it Him, because I can see Him all around me, in other guys, on television and in books, even in abstract art. Him refers to the real me, the one who can feel, who is alive, instead of numb and waiting.
Back when I was seventeen, I was supremely confident, and even popular at work. I was never around anyone my own age, always working with adults ten, fifteen years my senior, so I had a certain freedom. It was when my generation entered the working class that I started quieting up.
There have been other instances, a year here, a few months there, each time the Aggression and the deep well of old emotions swells up, and threatens everything good in my life.
I had relationships in my Hometown, and did well, but it fell a part, due to what welled up from the deep. I tried to not do the same when I moved but a life without relationships is unbearable.
I was that confident at the café. I was in the role of K___. It was shortly after June 1^st. I wasted my time with E__ and Max__. I realized I still couldn’t trust myself. I was still being run by the past -- an by other, more advanced people. It was devastating, and I felt I had to cut my power off for awhile.
I betrayed myself and wondered about it at the time. I was more attracted to E__ then to the other girls. Something in me knew that my relationship with E___ could lead nowhere while the other girls could’ve led to something Real. When I was with E__, it didn’t matter that my power was obvious, so I was happier. My life at the time wasn’t Real.
I’ve wondered about my easy confidence in that place. Despite my mind unknowing, it’s as if at some deep level I did register my sexual relevance in that place.
The person I am without my power seems unrecognizable to me. Still I identify with his actions -- them being a part of my past -- despite myself.
The person I am without my power is the exact opposite of the Real me, and yet we share the same life. The entire world is possible in one person.
When I’m without the power -- the Quality -- the Masculinity -- when I’m not Him -- I attract close friendships with other Hims. When I’m Him, like I was at the café, I attract close relationships with women.
I used to wish I was gay. Because then things would be simpler. The close friendships I’ve had with W___ and K___ would just go farther. But in Real life, those scenarios gave me a false sense of sexuality and of my self, and left my member limp.
Sometimes I can catch myself wanting K__ to prove his bond with me more and more, to the point where it seems like it could only end with him touching me.
It makes me wonder. It’s a dangerous road. Powerless sex. It has nothing to do with sex. A lot of what people mistake for sex and sexuality are a cover for trying to regain Value.
When I have sex it’s about power. About convincing her to allow it, convincing her to feel it. To be that ballsy requires I have it together -- not materially, it turns out -- it requires that I’m Him.
I know deep down that the reason I am so far behind in development, and the reason for the abnormality I feel, is because I don’t have much sex -- because it’s triggering for me. When I have sex I’m sharing my power with the other person, I’m expressing it, letting it be known.
It’s like by writing it all down, by teaching myself all this in words, I’ve been trying to live life without my power -- living in my head -- while, due to the words, technically still living it correctly.
That’s a lot of trouble to go through to avoid my own power. It’s a lot of trouble to avoid sex. I feel for the boy, the one who avoids sex at all costs.
It is true, and I know it deep down, somewhere in the Dark where there are no words, that the reason I can’t hold on to being Him for very long is because when I’m Him, I still refuse to Want.

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When I understand myself, I’m back to Him, and my foot stops tapping, my body stills.

___________

　
I woke from a dream the other morning, as Mace__ was scuffling, getting ready.
It was about the House, except I was older, working a job where all the guys here worked also. It was Walmart or at least a place just like it. For some reason I had purchased opera tickets for Mom, and had to run around trying to get everything in order for the opera night.
As I was running around I was kidnapped by aliens, I was mistook by the enemy as one of them, it reminded me of Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnecut.
The aliens befriended me, as well as the enemy, and they all pitched in to get me home. When I got there Mom and R___ were ready to go, and I was just running in, just as I was remembering that I had forgotten to bring some kind of electronic device I was supposed to have brought. It was to translate the opera for us.
At that point, R___ says something taunting referring to my lack of a sex life, my seeming A-sexuality, expecting Mom to laugh. He said it as if we were competing for her affection. I don’t remember if she laughed or not. At that point I woke up.
It’s like deep down I assume that all women will choose him over me -- because Mom did.

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