Twenty

It has been an hour and twenty six minutes since I turned twenty. TWENTY. A friend told me to be gay cuz its my birthday and another told me to be sad cuz I'm a step closer to death.

Was out shopping with friends. The gloom has lifted somewhat. I am tired of that sinking feeling; I am still uneasy and sometimes despondent but at least I'm looking for a way.

People ask me if I want to be younger. Of course, I say. Not actually. I am pretty happy with my generation. It would be good if I were, say, thirteen. But then, I can always be thirteen. I love the fact that I grew up with Harry Potter; shared battered old mouldy copies of the book with clueless friends, aged as he did, lived as he did, cried as he did. No one else will know the exhilaration now.

One hour and thirty five minutes ago, I grew out of my teenage. I know I didn't party wild every night or get crazy in the middle of the street or managed a girlfriend at fourteen, but I did it my way. At twenty, I think I can say I used my teenage to grow up; to experience the flavours life has to offer, the love, the rain, the sorrow, the snow. I had friends, I have lost friends, I have gained new ones. There are those who love me, love me to death, those with whom I have never been "romantically" linked yet who know that the love between us is stronger than most couples.
Not for this birthday then, self pity and sorrow. I am grateful for everybody. My friends, my outer circle who pep my up, my inner circle who hold me and those who don't call me now but still care.
I have come a long way from the wide eyed boy peering over the balcony on a rain swept day. I'm big now. Old. Not as honest. Never the hip teenager, I don't expect a fashionable adulthood; I don't nurse hopes for universal adulation for my shades or shoes. I don't hope to dangle a girl on my arms. I don't expect to pierce things.
To continue the way I have would be nice enough. Its been fun. For the love. The care. For the countless friends. For school. For college. For food. For you. For him.
The hour and fifty minutes of my new year have been great. I am actually not bummed at turning twenty.

Sad and gay

There is an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. The gloom catches hold of me every time I am not engaged. Its not the ennui. There is an sense of impending misery. A dim view of life. Too much Morissette is bad for me.
The person I thought I has lost, then thought re-gained has been lost again. Distant, inexplicable boundaries separate us while we strive to make tedious, uneasy small-talk across the divide. He isn't my boyfriend. He is much more.

Issues that I used to be passionate about don't excite me as much anymore. I guess I've seen too much. After 4 years, decriminalization of "gay sex" didn't excite me as much as it did a lot of other people who called me to register their joy.
Its never gonna be the same. People will still be ghettoized as part of the "community", denoted as "gays" and "fag" will be still a stinging insult on someone's manliness. Dignified lives are what we were fighting for but then we gave over to the hoopla.
For a moment, step back and realize there are people who aren't dancing at pride parades, who won't say they're proud to be gay and shouldn't be forced to. Give them a choice.
To hope for a day when a child would grow up without worrying if he is gay or how he'll come out seems an outrage. Its all heading the wrong way.
Most don't understand."India has a long tradition of gays; tolerance."..."Its a very sensitive issue"...only break my heart. The problem is that we get carried away cuz there are a fat lot of bigots out there who scream to take the majority's views into account and knock over the "handful of gays". In the end, are we losing sight of the bigger picture?
I recognize the historic occasion.I appreciate it. Let all debates rest and sexuality buried. Can we do that?

I turn 20 next week. End of my teenage. Not that I did much with it. I did, actually. My way. I'll probably be sad on my birthday as well. I'm getting old.
Last year of college. I enjoyed the past two. My way, again. I'll miss it. My way. My teenage too.