Update

As Jay requested another blog post, I thought I'd post a quick update about how things are going. Unfortunately, because my brain is frazzled at the moment the only title I could think of for this entry is "Update". Unoriginal, I know, but it'll do.

So, the short version. Health - the treatment is going well. I've been prescribed a drug called Maxolon to help with the nausea and it's really working. Still bald, still tired, but feeling a lot better overall.

Dylan - things really couldn't be better. He came for a quick visit this past weekend and he was really sweet the whole time he was here, though I did have to fight him every time I tried to get out of bed. He insisted on doing everything for me, but as much as I appreciate the sentiment (and I apologise for the crudeness) my bowels and bladder cannot move through him. Besides, when I'm feeling well enough to walk around I do like to get out of bed. It was nice having him here, though, even if it felt like I had two mothers the entire weekend.

School - I'm managing to keep up with the work, even though I can't attend at the moment. For those who don't know about the many lovely effects of chemotherapy, your immune system is pretty much fucked for a while so I have to stay home to avoid catching the many winter colds that are already going around. I have a friend bring me copies of his notes once a week and my brother has taken my assignments into school for me, so hopefully I'll manage to get through this without having to write off the year and repeat. I know it would probably be best if I concentrated on my health, but the work keeps my mind busy and stops me from dwelling on this too much.

Only other real bit of news here is that we've had our first snow of the winter. It was only on the mountains and not on the ground, but it was very pretty to see. Unfortunately the roads were too icy for my father to come home this weekend, so I didn't get to see the old fart, but he called every night and called on Sunday afternoon just to talk to me, which was nice. He may be an old misery at times, but he's not bad as father's go. Just don't tell him I said so.

Oh and my sister called yesterday to tell my Mum she's pregnant. I should explain here as she's not actually my sister by blood. She's the daughter of one of my mother's closest friends. When she was fifteen her parents were killed in a car accident and my mother took her in. I was only five at the time (so back before I even knew Dylan...sometimes I don't believe such a time existed), and she left home when we moved to Scotland, but even though she was only with us for three years I've always called her my sister. Even if she calls me "the brat" (affectionately, most of the time). Anyway, she got married a couple of years ago and after a year of trying she's finally pregnant, so sometime in May next year I'll have a new niece or nephew. Just wish she lived closer so I could see her more often.

Anyway, that's it for now. I have to go get my dose of poison in a couple of hours so I'm going to distract myself by doing some writing for a bit.

Soap Opera Anyone?

Life can be strange sometimes. I've gone most of my life (ok, so it's only sixteen years and ten months) without any real drama. Due to my father's job my family moved around a lot when I was younger, but that's hardly dramatic. I remember once when I was nine my father moved out of the house for a day after having a bad argument with my mother, but that's hardly dramatic. Even when I came out it wasn't exactly dramatic - I told my best friend I was gay and in love with him, he told me he was gay and felt the same way. We told my parents and though there were a lot of questions and conversations there were no raised voices or tears. We told his parents we were gay and they shouted...for about ten minutes before calming down and realising they were being stupid.

If my life up to July of this year had been a soap opera, people would have gotten bored of watching long ago. And that's just how I like it.

Then July happened. Don't want to talk about it again, but I think it set something off. After July I had the drama of August, locked away in my house, my boyfriend trying to coax me out of my depression, finishing the month by proposing to me. Then there was September. We had the drama of telling our parents we were engaged (my mother knew before Dylan asked, but my father and his parents didn't know until after). That prompted long lectures from them about rushing into things and waiting until we're older, and long lectures from us about how we're not planning on getting married until we've graduated from University at the earliest.

Then we had drama from my brother. In the middle of September he sat us all down and told us that a girl he had never dated, never had sex with, never really said more than a couple of words to, was claiming that she was pregnant and he was the father. I know my brother can be an ass at times, but he is more responsible than I like to give him credit for, so if he did get a girl pregnant he'd do the right thing. He hasn't, though. He has had sex exactly once in his life - an admission that caused me great amusement - and that was back when he was fifteen.

To cut a long story short, the girl in question is somewhat lacking in sanity and wasn't even pregnant. She just wanted attention, so earlier this year she made up a story about a secret affair she was having with my brother, telling all her friends about it, and the lies escalated. She first told her best friend that she thought she might be pregnant, then said that she was pregnant, then said that he had accused her of cheating and denied being the father, then said that the stress caused her to have a miscarriage. She might have got away with it too, and ruined my brother's reputation, if her friends hadn't caught her in the lie.

Perhaps that's why I feel sympathetic towards someone I don't really like on a forum I go to. He's an arrogant, opinionated ass who thinks he's smarter than everyone else and has an aggressive style of debate that verges on bullying. Some of his views are racist, many of them are ignorant (like claiming that rape victims are complicit in their attack by putting themselves in a situation where they can be attacked, which of course didn't endear him to me). However, now he's being accused of being a pedophile, and the evidence for that allegation? He's told a few bad taste jokes and admitted that, at the age of twenty, he is attracted to older teens and has had sex with a sixteen year old.

It doesn't matter whether you think it is morally acceptable for a twenty year old man to have sex with a sixteen year old boy. It is legal where he lives and having an attraction to sixteen year olds does not make him a pedophile. You can call him misguided. You can call him morally bankrupt. You can call him sick. Those opinions are subjective and we are all entitled to believe whatever the hell we want. You cannot, however, accuse someone of being a pedophile, an accusation that can not only impact their current and future employment prospects, but which can also place them in very real physical danger from idiot vigilantes who see it as their moral duty to protect society.

Bullying of all kinds angers me, and while his behaviour at times has verged on bullying (the intellectual kind), this is outright, unashamed bullying that could have lasting consequences. It's sickening.

Went off on a little tangent there, but after seeing my brother go through something similar it's hard not to feel sympathy for the guy, no matter how I feel about him.

So, back to the drama. End of September comes around and I'm feeling drained. Hardly unexpected given all that's been going on, but my mother decided to have a good flap about it and ended up sending me to the doctor to get checked out. I thought maybe I might need anti-depressants or something, but he did a blood test, then sent me to the hospital for some more tests, and then delivered the good news. Turns out I have a minor case of cancer. And I do mean that it's a minor case. It's been caught in the early stages and according to my doctor it's one of the better kind of cancers to get as the chances of survival are high even if it hadn't been caught so early. I'm sure as shit not dying anyway. But I have started chemo and so the past week has been spent feeling even more exhausted, with the added bonus of vomiting. Couldn't deal with the hair loss so I shaved my head (with my brother's help), and now realise just how much warmth my hair provided.

I really can't catch a break at the moment! I've got another month of treatment, and then I expect I'll be given the all clear and can hopefully resume a quiet, drama-free life. Seriously - I know there are people who thrive on drama - you can't spend any real length of time on the Internet without encountering them - but I'm not one of them. I'm not saying I want my life to be boring, but a little less interesting would suit me just fine.

Empowering

I'm not sure whether I should be proud of myself today, but I am anyway.

I went back to school yesterday, though I only stayed for one lesson because after that class I saw Derek and Matt - two of the boys who attacked me - in the corridor and freaked out, so my brother came and took me home. Today I went back and stayed for all the classes I had, even though I saw them again. I felt strong for managing to stick it out, but after my last class something happened that could easily have sent me running back home and away from the school forever.

I was heading towards the Library to collect a couple of books I need for an assignment when I bumped into Matt and Kevin (Kevin being the third boy who attacked me). I wanted to turn and run, but they were in my face before I could react and the next thing I knew they were pulling me towards the toilets.

I don't know exactly what they intended to do, but they said something about "teaching me a lesson" for going to the police and Matt tried to force me into one of the cubicles, so I hit him. Hard.

I've never hit anyone before in my life, and my hand is still throbbing, but he went down and there was blood so I guess I did a bit of damage. I ran out of there and Kevin didn't even try to stop me, so I went straight to the head teacher's office and told her what happened.

There's going to be an investigation and I might be in a bit of trouble for hitting him, but I doubt it will be as much trouble as they'll be in if they admit that I hit him. They're not supposed to come near me at school, so unless they try to claim I went looking for them, which I doubt anyone will believe, they might be looking at suspension. Hopefully the school will regard my actions as self-defence, but at this point I don't care. I fought back and got away from them, and that's really all that matters to me.

Been a while...

OK, so it hasn't been all that long since my last blog post, but I promised myself when I created this blog that I would updated it at least twice a week, so bad me. Now the self-scolding is over, only the update...

Dylan has gone back home and I miss him so much, but we had a great time when he was here. We didn't go out much. In fact, it was only in the last couple of days he was here that he managed to coax me out of the house, but we'll come to that later. We talked more in the past few weeks than I think we did in the entire time we were best friends. There were some days where we just stayed in bed for most of the day talking about life, about what happened, about nothing in particular. I feel like I know him better now than I ever have, and I love everything I've seen and heard.

We didn't have sex while he was here. I wanted to try it during the last week of his visit, but he told me he wanted to wait until he was sure I was ready, and as I couldn't honestly tell him I was ready we just kissed and cuddled. There's a part of me that regrets not having sex with him before he left. I know it sounds stupid, but our first time was for all the wrong reasons and while I might not have enjoyed our second time it would have been for the right reasons - because I love him and I know he loves me.

He did have a surprise for me before he left, though. During the last weekend of his visit he went out with my mother for a few hours, supposedly to help her with the shopping at the supermarket. They came back with the shopping so I didn't think much of it, but he'd bought a little something else too. Now, for those of you who don't know my history with Dylan, we were best friends for years, but last summer his family decided to move down south and I was faced with losing not only my best friend, but the guy I'd been in love with for years. So two days before he was due to move I took him down to the river behind my house and came out to him, told him how I felt, and he told me he felt the same way. We've been together ever since, even though we live so far apart and barely see each other.

Anyway, two days before he was due to go home after this visit, he convinced me to leave the house for the first time in nearly a month and go with him to the river for an hour or so. He told me that he couldn't leave knowing I was afraid to go outside and convinced me that it would be better to leave the house while he was with me, and of course he was right. We sat by the river for about an hour just talking, and then I decided I wanted to go back to the house, but as I got up to go he caught my wrist, fumbled with something in his pocket, and produced this little box.

If you think you know where this is going, you're right. On the day he went out with my mother, they went to a jewellery store in town and he bought a pair of rings - silver with a black band through the middle. And two days before he was due to go home he proposed! :D

Of course I said yes.

Now, I know we're only sixteen, and we're not stupid. We're not planning on getting married (or what passes for marriage for same sex couples in this country) right away. We both want to go to University, so our plan is to see each other as much as we can over the next two years, study hard so we can both get into Edinburgh, live together while we're at Uni, and talk about setting a date after we've been living together for at least a year. It's likely that date won't be until we've both graduated.

Even though marriage is a long way off, Dylan felt that we couldn't be apart for another two years without making some kind of commitment beyond the one we already had, and every time I see the ring on my finger I know that he's mine and will always be there for me. Maybe we're just being stupid kids for doing something like this now, but it's the kind of stupidity I'm happy to live with. He's mine and nobody else gets to have him. :P

It was sad when he had to leave, and I cried a lot when I got home afterwards, but I've spoken to him every night, seen him on webcam every night, and we plan to talk every day until he can come back here, hopefully over Christmas if not sooner.

In other news, I'm supposed to be back at school now, but on the day I was due to return I discovered a slight problem. I'm studying four subjects this year, and two of the boys who attacked me are also taking one of those subjects, and the third boy is taking another subject with me, so in half my classes I'd have to see at least one of them. When I found that out I decided I couldn't go back to school, had a tiny bit of a meltdown and locked myself in my room. I mean, it's bad enough that I would have to be in the same building as them, but in the same classroom?

Anyway, my parents went to the school and talked to the head teacher. She isn't going to make the boys change courses, and I can understand that. They were cautioned for assault, but not arrested for rape, so while she's sympathetic there's not all that much she can do. Unfortunately, because of the way courses are structured she also wasn't sure she could allow me to change courses too. However, after much discussion she has agreed to allow me to switch to new courses starting Monday.

I'm still going to be studying Art and English, but now instead of History and Maths I'm going to be doing French and Geography. I'll still have to see those bastards from time to time, but I won't be in the same classroom as them when I'm studying. She has also said that she's spoken to the boys and warned them to stay away from me at school, and out of school, apparently telling them that if they lay a finger on me again they'll be expelled. I'm sure some of it is just talk, but it's nice to know that she's on my side.

And she is. She's not exactly known for being a warm, caring person, but when she saw me yesterday afternoon she gave me a big hug and told me that she would do her best to help me over the next two years.

I should also say that after I came out a year ago, she called me into her office as soon as she heard the news. I thought I was going to be in trouble. The only times I'd been in that office in the past had been when I'd dyed my hair, and then she'd lectured me on my appearance, telling me some crap about the image I'm projecting and stuff like that. Anyway, when she called me into her office that day it was to tell me that she was concerned about my decision to come out while I was at school - not because she had a problem with my sexuality or thought that there was anything wrong with me coming out, but because she knew that there would be idiots who would give me crap because of it. She told me at the time that if anyone gave me any trouble I should go to her and tell her.

Of course, I didn't, but then a few snide comments, a bit of name calling and the occasional shove were hardly problems I felt I needed help with. If anyone had actually hit me in school, I would have gone to her. If anyone had actually threatened me in school, I would have gone to her. I didn't see the point in running to her every time someone was mean to me. Besides, I was used to it.

In addition to being gay, I'm also Asian. I'm Japanese living in a small town in Scotland where people barely even tan and attending a private school with several hundred pasty white kids. Snide comments, rude names and the occasional shove were hardly new to me, so when I came out it was really more of the same. The only thing that was different were the names they called me - and I quite like the term "gaysian". I know the people using it intended to be cruel, and it is the intention behind words rather than the words themselves that should be considered offensive, but there's something cute about the word. I'm a gaysian and proud of it. :D

I'm rambling off on a tangent now, so back to the point. The head teacher has put through the paperwork so I can change courses, and provided me with the reading material I'll need for all four of my subjects so I can catch up before I go back on Monday. She's also told the teaching staff at the school what happened to me and who was responsible, warning them to watch out for those boys and notify her if they see any trouble. I'm not sure I feel safe going back there, and I'm not entirely happy about it, but I'm not going to be beaten by pondscum.

So that's my news. Life is getting better, I'm now engaged, and I'm back to school on Monday. Oh, and I'm seeing a counsellor twice a week. Lots of stuff I should have blogged about, but so much going on I didn't have time.

My Boyfriend is Amazing

It's been a few days since my last entry, mostly because Dylan is keeping me constantly busy. In fact, I don't think he's left my side since he arrived here! I'm sure he'd like to get out and see some of his old friends, but for the past week I've been getting panicky whenever I even think about leaving the house, so we've stayed inside the whole time just watching movies, playing on the computer, talking and cuddling. And when I say cuddling I'm not using it as a metaphor for something more. I'm not ready for that and Dylan's not pushing me.

We had a long talk yesterday about him moving back up here to finish his last two years of school. He really wants to, and while I want him to be here I don't think it's practical. As much as I love him, I'm not ready to live with him and there's no one other than my parents who might consider taking him in. Then there's his family. He loves his family and I don't think he's quite ready to leave them yet. In the end we decided that we would get together as much as possible over the next couple of years and try to get into the same University.

He is, however, staying here for what's left of the summer and only going back the day before I go back to school (he gets another week of holiday the lucky git). It means I have him for another two weeks and I really don't have the words to express how happy that makes me. I really don't want him to go back, but given that the only other option is for him to leave his family and live here for me...as attractive as the idea might sound I think he'd be miserable without them and I don't think we're ready to live together.

My bed is definitely going to feel empty without him, though. I love waking up beside him in the morning, especially when he's still asleep. He's gorgeous when he's awake, but when he's sleeping he looks so angelic.

This morning (well, yesterday morning now) we sat down with my parents and brother and told them what really happened to me. I don't want to go into detail about the conversation right now, but let's just say there were tears and my brother decided to take his anger out on the coffee table, so Mum now needs to go buy some new furniture. We're going to the police station tomorrow to tell them the full story, though none of us have much hope that anything will really be done at this point. I might say more after we've spoken to the police, but right now I'm waiting for Dylan to come back from the shower so we can go to bed.

He's so sexy when he's wet.

48 Hours

A lot has changed in the past forty-eight hours. I'm not saying that I'm smiling and happy and back to my old self again, but when I woke up this morning (well, actually this evening as my sleep pattern is so screwed up I slept until 9pm this evening) I didn't immediately want to go straight back to sleep. I'm not saying I exactly wanted to get out of bed and face the world, but the desire to hide away wasn't as strong as it has been.

Before I say anymore, I want to thank J and PaulMoore12 for the comments they made on my last blog entry. You guys really helped me a lot. I still haven't told anyone what really happened, not in real life, but I posted about it on a forum I belong to - thegyc.com - and while only a handful of people have responded or even read the post I made their responses, combined with yours, have really helped.

What helped most was actually saying it, even if it was just typing the words onto a screen. I felt sick, but I didn't throw up, and when I posted the thread I felt a lot better. No one replied for several hours and I considered deleting the post a few times, but eventually someone replied. Of course, I had a panic attack the moment I saw that someone had responded, because it meant they'd read what happened and someone else knew, but once I calmed down I read what they had to say and it really helped. I haven't replied yet, but I'm going to soon.

I knew after it happened that I needed to tell someone, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I couldn't even acknowledge that the parts I was willing to share amounted to sexual assault. Now I can at least type it on a screen.

I was raped.

I feel sick just saying it, but less sick than I did a few days when I even thought about saying it. It was disgusting and humiliating and if I could erase it from my mind I would, even if it meant those boys would get away with it, but it's always there and as much as it scares me I think it's always going to be there.

So after posting my blog entry and posting on that site and reading the comments people left me, I decided to contact Dylan. I couldn't bring myself to speak to him on the phone, so I contacted him via MSN. At first I felt sick, but after a couple of minutes of talking to him I started to feel better and I remembered just how much I loved him. He switched on his webcam and the moment I saw his face I knew how much I needed him here, so I asked him to come stay with me. He's coming on Wednesday and staying for a week, so when he gets here I'll tell him what happened. If I can't find the words I'll show him my blog or the post I made. I'd prefer to tell him, but the important thing is that he knows.

I think the problem I've been having over the past few days is that I've been thinking about when we had sex and associating it with what happened. I've been thinking about Dylan my boyfriend and not Dylan my best friend, the person who has always been there for me. I love him and I never want to lose him, but I think right now I need him to be my best friend for a while and just hold me and tell me that everything's going to be ok. Two days ago I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him. Now I can't wait for him to be here.

I've flushed the drugs. I sort of regret it right now, but I know it was the right decision. They made things easier but it was artificial. They won't change anything. All they do is numb the pain for a little while. I rationalised taking them by comparing them to taking an aspirin when you've got a headache, but as someone told me in an email yesterday this is the kind of pain that doesn't disappear if you take a pill. I know they're right, but right now I'd prefer an easier option.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the support I've had from strangers over the past couple of days has really helped, and if people I don't know can make if feel this much better then the support of the people who love me has to help more, right? I don't think anyone can make the pain go away, but a hug will make all the difference.

Just a final note to HG, the delightful person who left a comment in my last blog entry. I considered deleting your comment, but I've decided to leave it where it is. It's a reminder that there are always going to be hateful scumbags out there and unless I confront what happened I'll never have the strength to deal with them and run the risk of becoming one of them. It's something I'll look at whenever I'm feeling down and if I ever do think about killing myself, because knowing that it would bring some satisfaction to someone like you will be reason enough for me to find a way to keep going. If I can't find the strength to get through this for me or the people I love, I'll find the strength to get through this just to spite people like you.

Digging and Digging

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my life and everything that's happened over the past couple of weeks. I've tried not to, but the thoughts keep popping into my head and as soon as they do I can't seem to let them go. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore.

There's this forum I go to. I've mentioned it before, but I won't post a link. I wouldn't want to inflict it on anyone. There are some good people there, but the majority are cruel and bitchy. So why do I go there?

I thought at first I was going there to try and distract myself. It's a busy place with lots going on, plenty to read, loads of active members, and it does provide a distraction, but there are plenty of other sites on the Net that could be just as distracting. Then I thought maybe I was posting there because the majority of the active members seem to hate, or at least dislike, me, and I figured that if I could win them over then maybe I could stop hating myself so much. And yet when I read some of the posts I've made, or even look at the signature I use there, I can see that I'm not trying to be liked.

So what the hell am I doing?

Maybe I'm just looking for confirmation in their replies that I'm right to feel this way about myself.

God! I sound like such a self-pitying idiot. Truth is, I don't feel sorry for myself. For the past week or so, I haven't felt much of anything at all. I just feel dead inside.

I've felt this way since the police told my mother that the boys who attacked me would be released with nothing more than a caution. I really thought that if I told the police what happened then something would be done, but I can't really blame them. It's not like I told them the whole story. I told them exactly what I wrote in this blog, exactly what I told my brother and my parents and my boyfriend. I've only got myself to blame, but how the fuck am I supposed to tell anyone the truth? I feel like throwing up when I even think about it. There's no way I could say it out loud.

I just want to sleep and never wake up. I don't want to kill myself or anything stupid like that. As much as it hurts every day I don't want to die. I just want to sleep until the pain goes away.

Thanks Bro!

Sometimes I could beat the crap out of my brother.

Today he's been really supportive, but tonight he proved once again what a jerk he can be. So this freak posts on a forum I go to saying he wants someone to come onto MSN and get naked on cam for him. Obviously a paedo or pervert. I make the mistake of telling my brother about it before going for my shower, so what does he do? He goes and adds the freak to my f***ing MSN!

As if I haven't been through enough sh*t today, he thinks it'll be funny to mess with a paedo/perve while I'm in the shower.

Needless to say, the freak is blocked and deleted, and my computer is now password protected so if I'm not at it my brother can't mess with it.

Feeling Better

So, thanks to some good advice I got on a forum I've joined, I told my brother about what happened to me and this morning he and my Mum took me to the police station to make a formal complaint. I don't know what the police are going to do, but telling them made me feel a bit better.

Unfortunately, I then came home to find that on that same forum, in the thread I'd posted explaining what had happened, some vile scumbag posted revolting messages saying how it was my fault, calling me names and generally provoking anyone who replied to him. He even started a second thread to pursue the matter.

I really pity people whose only way of getting attention is to spew bile and hatred. I have to wonder how empty his life must be for him to behave that way.

To make matters worse, an a**hole moderator first deleted my thread rather than removing the offending posts, then deleted the second thread when I replied to it ranting about "flame wars". So, it's perfectly fine for that piece of human garbage to tell me that I was to blame for what happened, and it's perfectly fine for him to mock me and post all sorts of vile filth, but when I post a single reply expressing my opinion suddenly it's a flame war?

Fuck the both of them. I'll keep posting on that forum, but at least now I know who to stay away from. I kind of expected it from a member, but for a moderator to behave that way is completely disgusting. Still, I'll keep my opinions to my blog and show him respect on the forum. I may not like how he behaved and I may have a particularly low opinion of him, but he's a moderator for a reason, right? Hopefully because he is generally capable of acting fairly and reasonably.

He didn't warn me and apparently did warn the other guy, so I guess I can't complain. I'm just a little frustrated - that scumbag was allowed to post several dozen abusive and offensive messages, but action is only taken when I post one, and in that message I said I wouldn't be posting in that topic again.

Never mind. I'm angry about a lot of things at the moment, so I should just calm down and accept that he made the decision to remove the posts for a reason. Maybe I would have done the same in his position. Actually, no. I wouldn't. I would have removed that second thread right away and would have just deleted the offending posts from mine, but it's not my forum so I just have to live with the decisions the moderators make, no matter how much I disagree.

Thank f*** I have my blog to vent in.

Bye Dylan

So, a couple of hours ago I walked Dylan to the train station and said goodbye to him, though hopefully not for too long. He came up here because I was sad after what happened with those idiots a couple of days ago, but as it wasn't a planned visit and he had to go back to work he couldn't stay for as long as either of us wanted. The good news is that he's going to talk to his parents about coming for a longer visit in a week or so. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I'm lucky I go to a private school. Most of the schools in Scotland have summer breaks at a slightly different time so if I was at any of them I'd be going back to school in a week or so. Instead I have over a month of holiday left and we're going to try and spend as much of it together as possible.

I hope he can come back, because after last night I want him here all the time. I'm not going into any details in a public blog, but let's just say I'm a little less virginal than I was yesterday. It wasn't planned, but it felt right so we just went with it, and afterwards he held me and we fell asleep. It felt a little weird this morning, emotionally I mean. Physically too - the back door was a little achy - but mostly emotionally.

We've been a couple for over a year now, but we've hardly seen each other during that time, and the last time we did it was awkward. I don't know why it was so easy this time, but in just over a day we made up for all the kisses and cuddles we haven't had over the past year...and then some!

Walking back home without him was sad, and it wasn't made any easier by the fact that I saw Derek and Matt on my way home. They were with their girlfriends so they didn't come near me, but Derek sort of smirked at me and Matt made an obscene gesture that I won't even attempt to describe. I ignored them and as soon as they were out of sight jogged the rest of the way home, but I felt like crap by the time I got there.

My brother was waiting for me when I got home. Normally he's such an a**hole, and when I saw him I thought my day was about to get a thousand times worse, but instead of giving me crap like he normally does he pulled me into this big hug. He can be a real jerk at times, but when he wants to be nice he's the best brother in the world.

He took me upstairs and we talked all about Dylan. I told him that we'd had sex and he didn't freak out. He just asked if we were careful, which we were, and if I was glad it happened, which I am. Funny thing is, even though he's a year older than me he let slip that I've lost my virginity before him!

I was really surprised about that. I mean, my brother isn't the best looking guy. He's not ugly, but he's kind of weird looking. He's really athletic and confident though and always has girls around him at parties and at school. I know he's done stuff with girls because last year I was at a party with him and he disappeared upstairs. About an hour after he disappeared, his best mate pulled me and a couple of others upstairs and we found my brother in a bedroom, in his boxers, with three girls on the bed with him. The girls were all fully clothed but I thought he might have had sex with them.

Turns out they were just messing around. He's done some things with girls, but he told me he's waiting for the right girl before he has sex. It was really strange hearing that from him because he projects this image like he's some kind of stud, but really he's quite sensitive. Not that I'd say that to him - he'd beat the crap out of me if he knew I was even suggesting it.

I didn't tell him about what happened with Derek, Matt and Kevin. He'd only get pissed and either yell at me for not telling him sooner or go beat them up. I'd rather just put it behind me and move on. I don't think they'll really try anything like that again. They were just looking to have some fun at my expense and now they have they'll milk it, remind me of it, but stay the hell away from me. I hope.

Anyway, I have to go clean my room. Well, I don't have to, but I need something to keep me busy until Dylan gets home. He's going to call me as soon as he's talked to his parents, so hopefully by tonight I'll know if he's going to be coming back soon and for how long. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Monday, staying for four weeks, but I think that might be a little too much to hope for.

Better Day

After all the crap yesterday I decided to stay in bed today, maybe until the weekend, but I got a little surprise this morning.

I was up until nearly 9am as I really couldn't sleep, but decided I should at least try closing my eyes so got into bed just before nine. I was just dozing off when my brother came pounding on my door. Needless to say, I was annoyed, but when I opened the door he wasn't the only person standing outside my room.

Dylan was there!

OK, for most people reading this that will mean absolutely nothing. My parents moved to Scotland seven years ago and a few days after moving here I met this really sweet boy playing beside the stream that runs behind my house. His name was Dylan and when we found out we would be going to the same school, and in the same class, we decided to be friends.

I wasn't aware of my sexuality back then, but I think I had a crush on him anyway. I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't. He's gorgeous, kind, funny, always has a smile on his face and if you fall over he'll always be the first person to offer to help you up again.

We became best friends, all was fantastic, and then I discovered my sexuality when I was twelve, leading to three agonising years where I was closer to Dylan than anyone else on Earth and still not as close as I wanted to be. It would have been four agonising years, but last year his parents decided to move down South.

Long story short, two days before they were due to move, I took Dylan to the stream where we'd met and told him I was gay and that I had a huge crush on him. I sat there waiting for him to reject me. I knew he wouldn't hit me or yell at me, but I half-expected him to get up and walk away. He didn't, though. Instead he leaned over and kissed me.

That was last summer. This summer marks the anniversary of his departure and one year of us sort of being together. I say sort of, because while my parents know I'm gay and his parents know he's gay and both parents are as supportive as they need to be, we've barely seen each other since he left. I went to stay with him for a couple of days over Easter, but it was weird.

On the phone and in emails we're really affectionate, but when I was staying at his place over Easter we barely touched each other and didn't even give each other a kiss goodbye. Neither of us could really explain why, because our feelings haven't changed, but it just felt uncomfortable every time we got too close.

Last night I told him I wasn't in the mood to talk, but I felt guilty so at 5am I emailed him a link to my new blog. At 6am he had a bag packed and had managed to drag his Dad out of bed to drive him to the train station. And at a little after 10am, after a three hour train journey and a twenty minute taxi ride, Dylan turned up here.

After I got over the initial shock I invited him into my room and my brother buggered off out with his mates. Dylan was really, really sweet. I didn't even get a chance to ask him why he'd come. He just undressed me, took his own clothes off (that'll be the first time we've seen each other naked as a couple, and I was NOT disappointed) and then helped me into bed.

Yes, we were naked. Yes, we were alone in the house. Yes, we were in bed together. No, we didn't have sex. Might have been nice, but he just put his arms around me and held me until I fell asleep, and when I woke up six hours later his arms were still around me.

He's in bed right now catching up on some sleep, but when he wakes up I'm going to join him again and hold him and kiss him and tell him how much I love him. Things may have been awkward the last time we were together, and we may have a long distance thing going, but how many boyfriends would drop everything and come running when the person they loved was hurting?

I'm going to sit and watch him for a bit. The only time he's more beautiful than when he's sleeping is when he's awake.

Bad Day

I've been thinking of setting up a blog for a while now, get myself out there, maybe make a few friends online, and I was really hoping that the day I set up my blog would be a good one, but today wasn't.

So why am I setting up my blog today? Really because I'm so angry I just needed to vent so maybe I could get some sleep.

It's the school holidays for me. Exams are over, the weather's reasonably good, supposedly a time to relax and have a little fun. Best of all, it's a few blissful weeks away from the idiots at school who made my life hell this past year for no good reason other than I decided to come out. That's right, it was my choice. Nobody forced me to do it. I decided I was sick of pretending to be something I wasn't so I told a few close friends, made sure they understood it was no secret and within a couple of days most of the kids at school knew about it.

I was a little afraid, but most of them were great. I didn't lose any friends and even made a couple more. Unfortunately, I also "offended" a couple of guys in my class. Not sure how, but they sure as hell objected to being in the presence of a gay guy and made it clear every chance they got.

They didn't do anything really - just called me a few names, pushed me about a little, but at school they mostly just gave me dirty looks. It was annoying, but no big deal.

Well, it seems that now school is over they don't feel they have to behave themselves anymore. I had planned to spend today doing some painting, maybe playing a few computer games, listening to some music, just generally relaxing, but Mum left my brother a shopping list and my brother "delegated" the task of going to the shops to me. And when I say "delegated", read dragged me to the front door and told me to got do the shopping.

I didn't really mind. It was a nice day. Not too hot, not too cold, not raining. It's a nice walk to the supermarket anyway. It's on the edge of town and we're in a village about a mile away, so to get there I can either walk along the side of the road, which can be a bit dangerous, or take a really pretty walk along a footpath through the woods. So I went through the woods. Hey, if you're going to be forced to go out by your idiot brother, may as well take the path that's quiet and attractive, right?

Wrong.

The three guys who gave me the most crap last year - Derek, Matt and Kevin - were messing around in the woods. God knows what the idiots were doing, but I saw them and figured they'd just ignore me.

Wrong again.

First they thought it would be funny to make me stand against a tree while they had a little competition to see who could throw a stone closest to me without hitting me. Of course, they didn't really try to miss. Then they decided they wanted to see if they'd left any bruises - and of course that meant stripping me down to my boxers. Then they decided that because I'm gay I'd enjoy being bent over and dry humped, and when that wasn't funny enough, down came the boxers.

F*** knows what they would have done next if some old guy hadn't come along with his dog, but he shouted and they ran off. Of course, even though the idiot had seen exactly what they were doing, I was the "dirty little pervert" and I was the one he was going to call the police about.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the a**holes ran off with my shirt, so I was left to walk home half naked. Not a cold day, but not warm enough for walking home bare chested.

To cap it all off, I get home and does my brother ask why I'm not wearing my shirt? Why I've got big red welts on my chest? Why I look so upset? No. He yells at me for coming back without the shopping, takes the money Mum left us and buggers off.

So I've spent half the afternoon crying because of what they did and what they might have done and the rest of the afternoon imagining myself shooting them with a nail gun. No, I won't actually do it. I don't believe in violence. It's just a nice thought.

And now I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes I see those idiots and feel like screaming. So I've set up this blog to vent. I've vented. Don't feel much better, but I guess you can't have everything.