Confessions of Three Gay Boys: Journal One Read online

  CONFESSIONS OF THREE GAY BOYS

  Journal One

  Written by:

  A.V. Zeppa

  Author’s Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. It is a story written entirely from the author’s imagination. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations, is used fictitiously. The characters and events in this story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 A.V. Zeppa

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1533660891

  ISBN 13: 9781533660893

  like the blood brothers we are

  the pact has been made

  rivers will be crossed

  memories will remain

  CONTENTS

  JOURNAL ENTRY 1

  JOURNAL ENTRY 2

  THE REAL JOURNAL ENTRY 1

  JOURNAL ENTRY 2

  JOURNAL ENTRY 3

  JOURNAL ENTRY 4

  JOURNAL ENTRY 5

  JOURNAL ENTRY 6

  JOURNAL ENTRY 7

  JOURNAL ENTRY 8

  JOURNAL ENTRY 9

  JOURNAL ENTRY 10

  JOURNAL ENTRY 11

  JOURNAL ENTRY 12

  JOURNAL ENTRY 13

  JOURNAL ENTRY 14

  JOURNAL ENTRY 15

  JOURNAL ENTRY 16

  JOURNAL ENTRY 17

  JOURNAL ENTRY 18

  JOURNAL ENTRY 19

  JOURNAL ENTRY 20

  JOURNAL ENTRY 21

  JOURNAL ENTRY 22

  JOURNAL ENTRY 23

  JOURNAL ENTRY 24

  JOURNAL ENTRY 25

  JOURNAL ENTRY 26

  JOURNAL ENTRY 27

  JOURNAL ENTRY 28

  JOURNAL ENTRY 29

  JOURNAL ENTRY 30

  JOURNAL ENTRY 31

  JOURNAL ENTRY 32

  JOURNAL ENTRY 33

  JOURNAL ENTRY 34

  JOURNAL ENTRY 35

  JOURNAL ENTRY 1

  Wednesday Evening

  Jayden

  I’m like three days into my senior year of high school and my AP English teacher is making me keep another fucking journal. I’ve been writing these stupid things since ninth grade and I hate it.

  Every English teacher I’ve had in high school has made the whole class do this mindless task so we can improve our writing, or whatever. It’s such a joke because there is no way I’d ever write what’s really on my mind. I always write generic fiction shit. I feel zero need to reveal what is really going on in my life. I simply feel that it’s no one else’s business.

  But, on the other hand, I do want to write about my senior year because it’s the last year of what I call ‘The Guggenheim Spiral.’ If you’ve ever been to that museum you know what I’m talking about. I’ve walked that spiral for twelve extremely long years and have now reached the top floor with nothing more to conquer other than matriculating at Princeton or Columbia.

  I think it would be lit to have a real-time record of what happens this year. I know I’ll look back on my senior year as a pivotal time in my life. I really want to do this . . . shit, I have the best idea for this thing. I need to FaceTime for a few . . . later

  JOURNAL ENTRY 2

  25 Minutes Later

  I’m back. It’s all set. I was just chatting with my two best friends, Chris and Jamie, and they thought the idea was sic. This year we connived and schemed to take as many classes together as possible. AP English is one of them.

  We charmed our academic adviser, Ms. Rattlebag (yes, that’s her real name) with our sassy personalities and puppy dog eyes until she relented. Anyway, we decided to write a nonsensical white bread journal for English, and co-write a real-time journal for our eyes only.

  We’ve decided not to hold anything back, so whatever is written is going to be the truth, as it happens, even if it’s ugly and unpleasant.

  THE REAL JOURNAL ENTRY 1

  Okay. Even though there are already two journal entries, I consider this entry to be the first one. I know, I know, it’s confusing, I get that way sometimes, but I want to keep the whole thought process of this thing intact. Anything written here will not be ripped out and thrown away.

  So, here I go. The first thing I need to write down is that I love Chris and Jamie more than anything. We’ve been friends forever, and our lives are intertwined in ways only we understand. I have no secrets from them, well, maybe one or two, but you know what I mean.

  Writing about our senior year is going to show just how close we are. I think this journal will reveal the complexities, the give and take, the easiness, the real love we have for one another. They will become entry points to our younger days to be read and savored from time to time as the years move forward. We are going to take turns writing in it with only one caveat; we have to fold each journal entry and staple it shut so we can’t read them. This will definitely add to the fun and suspense of the whole thing.

  We also decided that after all of the graduation festivities are over next June, we are going to have a weekend sleepover and read them together. My hope is to fill five or six journals by then.

  So, I have one thing on my mind that has really messed with my head. I thought my last year in high school was going to be special. Perfect, actually. I mean everything was in place like I thought it should be, but shit found its way to me once again. My boyfriend Zack broke up with me a couple of weeks ago. It like came out of the blue. He accused me of cheating on him, which I didn’t do.

  Looking back on our relationship, he was definitely the jealous type, always checking my phone and my social media to see who I was talking to. I thought it was kind of cute because it showed that he really loved me. I was such a fucking idiot to think jealousy equates to love.

  Anyway, we had been going together for almost seven months and things were pretty good between us for the most part. We did have our arguments though. They were mostly about him telling me who I could and couldn’t hang out with, and me telling him to back off. Then shit started getting intense near the end of May as his jealous rages became mentally abusive. He was constantly accusing me of flirting with other guys, which of course I wasn’t, but his twisted imagination couldn’t fathom that he was making the whole thing up. Then he demanded that I stop hanging around with Chris, Jamie, and the rest of my guy friends.

  Finally, two weeks, one day, and approximately twenty-two hours ago, he accused me of fucking a guy from my school. “I saw you flirting with him at the park yesterday,” Zack yelled. “I know that guy. He’s on your Lacrosse team. I’ve played against him and he thinks he’s hot shit and I know you’re fucking him because I can see it on your face, so we’re done. You’re just a faggot Asian cum slut who fucks anyone with a dick.”

  I couldn’t believe he was calling me vulgar names and accusing me of having sex with someone else. I obviously denied it. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re making this all up as usual. I hardly know Cody. He just happened to walk by and decided to say hi. That’s all there was to it.” Zack didn’t hear a word I said and just kept yelling. Then it hit me.

  “Why were you spying on me? Do you follow me around? That is so fucking creepy.”

  “I spied on you because you’re a liar. And it’s not creepy you cunt. You always lie to me and I knew I’d catch you cheating.”

  I couldn’t believe talking to another guy meant I was having sex with him. Plus he was talking about Cody, who I barely know. I mean, we just say hi to each other if we’re passing in the halls, but that’s it. And anyway, he is such a straight boy it isn’t even funny. He’s had the same girlfriend for over two year
s. Zack obviously felt threatened because Cody is probably a better athlete, plus he’s extremely cute. He’s half African American and half Puerto Rican, a fire hot mix! Honestly, I wish he were gay because . . . well you know

  Anyway, Zack didn’t believe me and lost it. He grabbed me by the arms and started shaking me like I was a chewy dog toy. I yelled at him to let go while trying to pull away, but he kept shaking me and calling me a fucking slut. I finally kicked his leg, pulled free, and ran. He caught up to me in like two seconds and pushed me face first down onto the sidewalk. I thought for sure that he was going to start kicking me, so I curled up in a ball and yelled for help. Fortunately a doorman saw what was happening and yelled at Zack to stop as he hurriedly walked over to us. Zack told him to fuck off and then ran towards Central Park.

  The doorman helped me up. “You’re bleeding pretty bad, son. We should call an ambulance.” I had scraped my right hand and both knees, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I didn’t feel any pain until I saw the blood on my hand. It’s crazy how that works. It must be the adrenaline pumping wildly that temporarily masks the pain. “I don’t need an ambulance mister. I’ll be okay in a few days. Thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it,” I said, and then began to cry.

  “Son, you’re hurt. We need to at least call the police and report this.”

  “I really don’t want to. That guy was my boyfriend and I just want to let it go. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  That’s when the doorman gave me some great advice. “I know you are probably in love with that guy, but don’t ever let anyone treat you like you’re nothing. You’re better than that.”

  I couldn’t believe someone I didn’t even know cared more about me than my own boyfriend.

  I should have had Zack arrested, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. I really loved him. I still do, but I’ve cried enough tears in the last couple of weeks to last a lifetime, so I’m moving on. At least I’m trying to. I’m glad his school is on the other side of the park so I don’t have to see him or deal with his shit anymore.

  One of the nice things about my high school is that we have roaming privileges during lunch. We are allowed to eat anywhere we want. The Upper West Side has every kind of restaurant imaginable. Today, Chris, Jamie, and I bought some crazy good gyros from a street vender and headed to Central Park to chill. Fortunately my school is only a couple of blocks away. Manhattan gets so crazy at times, so hanging in the park is a great way to take the edge off.

  Chris and Jamie have been helping me get past the whole Zack nightmare.

  It really hurts being called demeaning names and being accused of cheating. I’m into love, not just sex. Sex is hot and all, but it’s so much better when I’m with someone I really like, or love. Jealousy sucks.

  Confession time. I really tried to stop myself from doing it, but couldn’t. Two days after we broke up I took my razor and cut myself. Seeing the lines of blood on my arm once again made me feel euphoric. Almost as good as taking Molly. It’s hard to explain, but cutting makes me feel totally alive, like I control at least one part of my life.

  So yeah, I cut. Well, I used to. Fortunately my break-up was a temporary moment of weakness. My parents are the only ones who know about this. I’ve never said anything to Chris or Jamie. I hope you guys don’t get mad at me after you read this. I’ve been seeing a therapist for almost two years now, and she has helped me get over that terrible phase of my life. My arm is healed now, and I know it was a stupid thing to do. I don’t ever want to do it again, I’m serious.

  I never cheated on Zack. Never even thought about it because I loved him. A few guys did hit on me when we were dating, but I told them I wasn’t interested.

  I could have had lots of sex if I wanted. I should have told Zack I fucked lots of guys. You know, hit him where it hurts so those images would be lodged in his mind forever. I should have yelled, “I was a slut because you couldn’t satisfy me.” It’s funny how good that sounds in my mind, but I’d never lower myself to his level.

  So, that’s what happened just before school started.

  I’m okay now . . . really I am . . . I guess . . .

  JOURNAL ENTRY 2

  Thursday

  Chris

  Jayden gave me the journal as soon as I got to school this morning. His entry is at least six or seven pages long. I don’t think I’ll ever write that much, but I promised to do this, so I’ll try my best. I’m all in with my besties. I do know one thing; it’s going to take some epic willpower not to tear open Jayden’s and Jamie’s entries. I hope I can hold out till June.

  This journal idea is kind of cool because we’re supposed to write about whatever we’re dealing with at the moment. Jayden calls it real-time writing. This idea reminds me of a book I read back in 8th grade called The Basketball Diaries, by Jim Carroll. He kept a daily journal of his life from the ages of twelve through sixteen. Every kind of emotion woke up inside me, especially the sexual ones after reading the entries about having gay sex.

  Carroll was a gifted basketball player who lived on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in the early 1960s. He wrote that it was a real shithole back then, and that his neighborhood taught him to be street wise, which led to a life of drugs, crime, and prostitution. I couldn’t believe he actually survived. Get this, he started doing heroin at thirteen, and I mean shooting it up. Then he became a total junkie and sold his body to zillions of random men to pay for his habit.

  Those journal entries were so detailed, it was like reading porn. It was fucking hot reading his words. I looked up some shit about him online and found out that he was bisexual. I definitely knew I was gay by the time I was reading this book, so I had lots of late night wanking moments. I don’t think I’m going to get as detailed with my journal entries as Carroll did, but you never know.

  Okay, now I’m horny as fuck. I need to check out some porn on the net . . .

  I’m back. That was fun. So . . . umm, I love to smoke bud. I love to eat cookies and drink ice cold milk after I smoke because it tastes so fucking good. It’s heaven. But my favorite thing to do after I smoke? Put my headphones on and listen to music. Yasss! Everything sounds so intense and meaningful when you’re high. It’s like time is being altered so you can enjoy your existence. Getting high makes the world livable. Shit, I think I’m beginning to sound like Plato now . . . sorry . . . but hey, I’m just being honest like we promised.

  Mmm . . . I’ve got an idea. I’m going to head out to the terrace and smoke a blunt, then I’ll write the rest of this. Back in a few.

  I’m feeling really good now. I just need to find my headphones and . . . hang on . . . okay . . . much better. Why am I writing this shit down? Man, I need some munchies. I’m glad no one is home right now. Okay, let me start again . . . writing is lit when you’re stoned . . . I’m listening to “Deeper Deeper” by One OK Rock, my favorite band right now. They’re from Japan and the lead singer, Taka Morita is so fucking hot even though he’s a straight boy.

  This song is making me feel invincible right now. I wish I could write my emotions down like a poet so you could feel what I’m feeling right now. You need to hear this song high, but you never smoke. You also said you hate their music, but you don’t know what you’re missing. I wish you guys would get high with me at least once because then you’d understand how great their music really is and you’d bond with me on a different level. But even though that is a pipe dream, I still love both of you anyway.

  Approximately thirty minutes, five songs, six cookies, and a glass of ice-cold milk later . . .

  That was sooo good. Where was I? Yeah. My two best friends are Jayden and Jamie. We always have each other’s back. I feel sorry for people who don’t have that. It must be a lonely life. If either of them are ever hurting, I’m always there for them. I’m still fucking pissed off about the whole Zack thing. I’m gunna kick the shit out of that mother fucker the next time I see him. Asshole ex-boyfriends suck gonorrhea dick. Zack was an insecure t
ool for breaking up with Jayden the way he did. No one deserves to be treated like a piece of shit.

  To tell you the truth, I never liked him because he always thought he was better than us. He goes to a shit fuck prep school on the Upper East Side with a slightly higher academic rating than ours, and he never let us forget that. He was always calling us Upper West Side faggots. The idea of a fag calling another fag a fag is beyond me. Where’s the fucking logic?

  Then on top of that, he was trying to hang out with me because my mother is famous. It was so fucking obvious when he kept hinting that he wanted me to take him to her fashion parties. He did this behind Jayden’s back, and I never told him about it. Jayden, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know what a tool Zack is. So, now you know. Please believe me when I say that you are going to find a great guy someday who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.

  School’s been kinda weird so far. I feel a little detached knowing it’s my last year there. I love it and hate it and can’t wait to graduate so I can go away to college. Honestly, I’m really bored with the whole prep school scene. It’s claustrophobic and repressive on like a billion levels. I feel like I’ve been living in a cocoon for the last four years.

  I definitely have it made in New York, but I want to get out of the city for a few years and see what else is out there. I’d love to meet some guys from a different part of the country. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend from the mid-west or California or Texas. Don’t get me wrong, I like my boyfriend Ty a lot. Actually, I think I love him. But we’re way too young to settle down . . . I don’t know . . . I’m just thinking about stuff.

  I’m lucky though because we go to school together. We’ve been dating since March, and so far so good. He’s not the jealous type, and neither am I. We have fun together when we’re together. I like my space and he likes his, and we are definitely okay with that. Ty has his friends, I have mine. Some people think our relationship is superficial because we aren’t together every single minute of the day. Fuck them, you know? I think most people are too insecure to have a mature relationship.