how do you ask for help

i was always by myself to begin with.

you’d think i’d be used to it by now, but i’m not.

i have friends, but i still feel alone. i’m alone not because i don’t have options. i do have options. i have jace. i have anthony. and i’ve always had lo. but they’re not enough. the one thing i’ve never had was family.

i have two sisters, both with their own set of problems, so maybe that’s why i’ve gone unnoticed. my mom was never around so my dad worked two jobs all my life. my older sister was in no position to take care of us, so the responisblity fell on me. i woke up every morning and got my little sister ready. that was me. i raised her. alone.

if i ever had a problem i didn’t ask for help. that was weakness.

if i needed something, i did it on my own. alone.

nineteen years of this mind frame and no wonder i’m alone. i was built this way. its all i know. so what happens now.

how do you ask for help, when all you know is doing it yourself?

phil

hi.

my name is phil.

i like pizza. like a lot.

and my mom is not a fish, that is all.

lo

they say i’m irresponsible. that if my head wasn’t attached to my neck, that i’d lose my body before i even knew it was gone. but the funny thing is, they’re totally right. calling me irresponsible is a nice way of putting it. i’m more than irresponsible, i’m pretty dumb. i’m dumb, i’m naive, and i make mistakes. to be perfectly honest i don’t make mistakes i make bad choices, so i understand why jace will never love me. who could love a girl with all of my baggage.

i’ve had this crush on jace since our first run in with each other. it was a rainy day in southern California, as weird as that may sound, but its true. the torrential rain was hailing down on the ground and i was walking to the bus stop in my rain boots, a tank top, and some shorts. like i said, i make bad choices.

out of nowhere this strapping young gentlemen runs up from behind me, with his blue umbrella, and saves the day. the first thing i noticed was his smile, not even the sun could compete with, and when he touched my face to move my wet hair behind my ears he sent chills through my veins. i was in love and i knew he was the one.
we made it to the bus station and he gave me his umbrella, and then disappeared. i didn’t even get to ask him his name, and i thought he was gone forever, fortunately i met him again a few days later through my friend phil. there was just something about jace, that i connected with. he was unlike any of the other douches i had previously dated.

when i was twelve, i dated a guy named rocco. he had flaming red hair and had the most beautiful green eyes i’d ever come across. looking into them was like looking into the ocean. i would get lost in them for hours, but then he’d open his mouth, and everything would go to hell. i really hated his voice and we finally broke up after two tumultuous years.

when i was fourteen i dated this guy named kayne. he wasn’t my type. he was as far away from my type as could get, but he served a greater purpose. he was my catalyst for getting back at my parents. what middle America parent wouldn’t want to see their perfect little daughter with a eighteen year old six foot four black man. it was my gift to them, for all the love they showered me with as a child, and in return they kicked their little angel out. i make bad decisions, so it was to be expected.

but then anthony waltzed into my life. our relationship was…well it was complicated from the beginning. he dated my sister and i was in no way ready for another relationship, but one thing led to another and we ended up being together for three years. i don’t even know if you can call what we had a relationship. relationships involve going on dates, going to proms, red roses, boxes a chocolate, things of that nature, and we never did any of that. it was more physical than anything, all we seemed to do was fuck and then argue. argue and then fuck. and the cycle continued.

we both had our demons and together we just made them worst. under different circumstances we could have been great, but we weren’t. we were two likeminded people looking to be loved, but neither of us knew how and shit happened.

i got pregnant.

never told anthony.

and had an abortion.

now tell me. what guy could love a girl with all this baggage.

anthony

jace says i’m inconsiderate, but in reality i’m not. i’m just that one friend you have that just doesn’t give a damn what you think. i’m that friend that tells you the honest to god truth even when you don’t want to hear it. the truth hurts. i know that more than anyone. i mean, how does a seven year old child deal with the fact that his parents didn’t want him. that he was such an abomination that his parents left him in a crowded parking lot to fend for himself. maybe that’s why me and jace are so close, because of all the people i know, he’s the only one who can relate.

jace says i’m inconsiderate and i’m okay with that. jace, lo, and phil need that in their lives. they’re always running from the truth. so i make sure they hear it, even when they don’ won’t too, because if i can’t be honest with you, then how can you expect anyone else to be.

but here’s the thing. every time i ride a bus with my friends we play a game of spot the fag. i’ve never won once. hell, no one has ever won, but jace. he’s some kind of freak when it comes to spotting homosexuals, but i could win. i could win on any given Sunday, but i choose not to. i choose to keep quiet and to be considerate. because i am the greatest friend in the world, and if i have to be inconsiderate to be that, then so be it.

i know jace is gay. i’ve known for a while. i may look stupid, but trust me. i’m not. i’m glad people think i’m stupid though. i thrive on that it. they underestimate me and that’s the advantage i have. i’m not stupid, i’m not inconsiderate, and i know my best friend is gay, but guess what. i could give a flying fuck, cause jace is jace.
i just wished he would just tell me. but why would he. i’m just some inconsiderate fuck.

break the cycle

every time me and my friends ride a bus we play a game. see we don’t have jobs so it’s the cheapest entertainment we can afford. its called spot the fag, and the rules are pretty simple. see a fag, point them out. the more masculine the more points they’re worth, the more flamboyant then the lower the score. its pretty simple, and straight to the point, and i’ve never lost a game the last three years. the only problem is, i’m kinda a fag.

but not really. see i’ve never dated a guy before, never had the urge to either. i’ve never found a guy attractive on an emotional level. it’s always “he could get it” or “damn, i bet he’d look good bent over moanin my name” or “i wonder if he’s packing” i’ve never had a moment where i was like “i wonder if he’d make a great boyfriend.” i haven’t had one of those moments. i’m waiting, but i don’t think it will ever happen.

things are different with girls though. some would say i’m a sucka for love, and i’d agree. i let my relationships define who i am, and i fall hard. fast and hard. there’s just something about a girl that makes me want to give away my love. i mean i’ve had sex with one or two girls, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if i never had any more male on female action. i guess i’m weird like that, or maybe just way too complicated. i should be less complicated, but its hard out here for a pimp.

every time me and my friends ride a bus we play a game of spot the fag and i never lose. maybe it’s this whole “gaydar” thing, but i don’t think it is. if there’s really a “gaydar” then logic says there should be some sort of “straightdar” and i’ve never heard about it. i think the reason i win every time is because i notice things that most people don’t.

i’ve been a professional people watcher since the age of seven. we all have our weird quirks. we all have our tale tell signs of secrets we don’t want the world to know, and i just happen to be able to spot these signs in most people. take this red headed guy sitting behind me. he has a nice physique, so that explains why his shirt is one size too small. his voice fits his six foot two frame, so that doesn’t help us either, but his face. his face is awkward looking. there’s something off about his face and its not his chiseled jaw line. its his eyebrows. they’re too perfect, they’re too stiff, they’re not natural, and they’re fuckin arched.

dun, dun, dunnn.


now i’m all for the mani/pedi of the modern day metrosexual and new millennium man, but getting your eyebrows arched is still pretty gay. so i point him out to my friends, score seventy five points, and win the game. i win the game again, but i can’t help but to find the irony in it all.
the game is called spot the fag. i’m a fag. and i’m the biggest score of them all. all my friends have to do is look to the left, to the left and yell out jace yang, and they would win. they would win the game, get a free bus trip to wherever they’d like, and i would finally be out of my straight gay closet. but they never do. so i stay inside my crowded closet full of skeletons, and hide from reality.

i’m jace yang.

i’m nineteen years old and i’m stuck in a never ending cycle.

this is my life.

i need to break the cycle.

jace

every time i ride a bus me and my friends play a game. see we don’t have jobs, because we’re not “qualified,” but how qualified do you really have to be to work at a fast food restaurant. i understand why THEY aren’t qualified: anthony is inconsiderate, lo is irresponsible, phil is well, he’s phil, dirty, rude, and an all around ass, but i’m not like them.

i’m considerate. i really am. every time i cross a street and a car just happens to be turning in that direction and starts to honk their horn, because i’m not moving fast enough, i don’t immediately reach into my pocket, take out one of my many x-acto knives, and flatten their tires. no, i don’t do that, because that’s something anthony would do. i instead, stop what i’m doing, take a moment to consider my actions, and then i have a fit of road rage, and then continue crossing the street. i consider their feelings and then i go with my gut reaction which usually involves screaming and a few flicks of the middle finger, but i do consider their feelings. because i am considerate.

i’m also responsible. i’m the oldest of seven kids. technically i’m not, but i feel like i’m the oldest. i pick up brothers from school, i take brothers to all their sports practices, i remember to give brothers medicine, and i even forge signatures on report cards for brothers because i am the responsible one in the family, and they say i’m not “qualified.”

but most importantly i am not phil. i’m fuckin jace. jace moutherfuckin yang. i’m the complete opposite of phil. phil is an ass. i’m not. phil is rude. i’m not. phil is dirty. and i’m a pretty clean cut guy, plus i’m considerate and i’m responsible and i have work experience. how the hell am i not “qualified.”

i worked at a fast food chain for two years of my life, and yes i may have locked a manager in a freezer, but you had to have been there to understand the situation. she was old and she was senile. and the entire day she was complaining about how hot she was. so i did what any responsible, considerate, not phil eighteen year old boy would do. i suggested she go have a seat in the freezer for a few minutes so she could cool down.

is it my fault i accidentally locked the door while she was in there. i mean, i eventually remembered she was in the freezer and ran with the quickest pace to let her out, and she didn’t die. she just cried a lot. her tears were like diamonds; frozen liquid tears. i must say they were the most beautiful tears i’ve ever seen, but that didn’t last too long. she called the store manager and i was fired on the spot. since then i’ve been “unqualified” for any job i applied for. aint that some shit.

you be izzie, i'll be kerev

kerev says:

the only reason i''m doing this, is because i probably wouldn't be able to say it to you. one look. one word. and everything i say i'm going to do i can't do it, because all i want to do is see you smile. this isn't about my feelings for you, because as i tell you i care for you. i probably care too much for you. i don't want to admit to you, let alone myself the fact that you really are my number one. sucks to be epic, eh, but what are you gonna do.

this isn't about how i feel about you, or how i felt. i mean you say you want cock, nd i showed you mine god knows how many times and you turned me down each time. do you know what that does to  man. low self-esteem ^_^. this is more on the fact that you've grown so much since we first talked and you've outgrowned me. i'm still pretty much that same inebriated J. only difference is i added a last name.

like you've said a million times over, HE inspired you. he gave you something to believe in. he made you want to live again. he's a GOD to you, and how do you compete with a god......you don't. you just die. and maybe thats why i'm at this point, because there's noway i can compete with that. maybe i'm ust mad because i wasn't what he is to you now. that all the time we had together i wasn't able to give you a reason to want to feel. to want to live. i wasn't able to give you that spark.

i kinda feel useless. i don't want to be that guy to always talk you off the edge. the guy you come to when you're feeling parnoid. that guy an be anyone, and hopefully soon you won't need that guy.

remember this, its important

i have two brothers. not three.

and remember this, its probably the most important thing i've ever told you

Pretend you are collecting baseball cards(because i collect baseball cards, just so you know). Pretend you are holding the rarest baseball card EVER MADE. You are the only person in the whole world who has this card. This card is worth MILLIONS. Then one day, the Topps Baseball Card Manufacture decides to give EVERYONE IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD THAT SAME CARD.

Your card isn't worth millions anymore.

This card has the world's attention.

The world's attention.

I am sharing this with the world.

You should be happy, but you aren't. You would be pissed off too, right?

But you're selfish.

Share.

 

and maybe thats my problem. i don't want to share. when i first met you you were this little old blogger pretending to be asian. you had me fooled for a while, then i discovered your myspace. and now you've blossomed(i used blossomed cause it describes how gay you are, no matter what moms says) into this epic blogger. way more epic then me. and you're basically the next coming of mirrorboy. cept older, still whiny but more creative, and the internet trolls aren't you own personal army of darkness. 

and maybe i'm jealous because i have to share you with the world, when i'm use to having you to myself. i don't want to share you with all these people who know nothing about you. who figure they have you figured out, but don't realise that when they think that they really have no clue who you are. maybe i don't even know you. maybe i;m just being possessive. but what i do know is, i'm J, j.hubbard to mark. i'm a lowly star. they're the universe. you can find another star. i can't find another you. but you can find another me. just speak to the next black guy you meet. he could be me.

love you kid. see you in a year.

currently listening to Ave Adore by the Smashing Pumpkins

not fighting anymore

he wins. i concede. bring on the drinks.

now i need to clean and finish some homework. school is going better than it was the first few weeks. i think i'll be back in georgia in a week or two but i hope not. my blog turns one on the 17th. i gotta figure out what i wanna do with this place because as of now, its been kind of dead. so i'll figure something out.

i don't wanna die in cali

i wanna die in georgia. atleast the traffic stops when you're bleeding out the back of your head and slowly losing consciousness.

i watched a man slowly die today. he was on a motorcycle and he ran into a car. the car was turning, the motorcycle kept going straight. BOOM. the man went flying in the air, the car stopped, people screamed, and i watched the man land infront of me as i waited for the big blue bus.

for just one second the world stopped. people stared. a girl screamed. i thought. but as soon as that second was up, it seemed like no one cared anymore. traffic continued even worse than before. honking horns. crazy driving. but the man remained on the ground as walking pedestrians crowded around him. he laid there dying, as i waited for the big blue bus.

"what happened" a lady asked.

"a man got hit on his motorcycle

"oh my god"

"i think its too late for god" i mumbled as i turned to walk away.

cali is beautiful. cali is great. but cali is a cruel bitch that doesn't give a fuck about anybody. georgia may have been a spiteful bitch, but at least she cared. when u got hit by a car and you lay on the ground dying at least traffic stops. at least the birds hummed a sad tune. at least, i don't know. all i know is i miss that feeling. that feeling that even when you were alone, you weren't alone.

currently listening to They Don't Really Care About Us by Michael Jackson

new people

a couple of people asked me who zammy was. so i guess this is the time to introsuce some of the people i've gotten to know the last few weeks and who may, or may not appear on the blog.

zammy: is this mexican guy whose in my section at school. we take all the same classes so we see each other on a daily basis. i have a crush on him. i had a crush on. maybe i still do. i don't know. shits complicated. he's a really cool guy, and has an accent. kinda reminds me of rick's. i'm sure he'll be a staple around the blog for a while.

alexa: is also in my section and she's this short korean girl with a huge personality and endless energy. she's really cool, loves talking, kinda loud, and always makes me laugh. i personally think before the year is out her and zammy will be together but i could be wrong. i like her, and she gets along with everyone.

hawaiian jack: is this guy i thought was hawaiian but turned out to be korean. but he is from hawaii, hence the name. he's kinda quiet, but i had fun with him the one day we had lunch together. he's a cool guy, and reminds me of my favorite person in the world jack, which is why i call him hawaiian jack. too bad jack isn't here to meet him cause i think he'd aprove of hawaiian jack, but jack is busy in saudi arabia entertaining the soldiers or some nonsense.

mark jr.: is the only other black guy in my section, he's pretty cool. he reminds me of mr.hubbard which is why i call him mark jr. he even sounds like him too. i think they're cousins or somethin, but mark doesn't believe they are. he kinda looks like one of the boys form New Boys but he's dark skinned. he's funny, likes photography, and an all around cool guy. i don't know if i'm crushin on him, i thought i was on day one, but maybe not.

old jack: is an asian guy i've never met before. he also reminds me of jack, but he's older than me. or maybe we're the same age since he's a sophomore which means that he's actually younger than jack.but yeah, i've never talked to him but i see him around campus a lot and we always make eye contact, say hello, or wave when we pass by. and we usually end up on the elevators together. maybe i should just say hi one day.

i think this is everyone, except for one other girl i'm really cool with. i just don't have a fake name for her. so maybe next time.

the conversationalist pt. III

"roll over J"

"you roll over"

"this is my bed"

"i don't give a damn who bed this is zammy, now go cook me some grits. i'm hungry."

"....."

"damn, why does everyone ignore me when i tell them to go cook me some grits. do they not know i'm fuckin hungry."

"....."

"zammy, SPEAK nigga"

"roll over J"

"damn. fine. i'll move over, but see if i ever fall asleep in your bed listening to britney with you again."

"calm down J, this is a library."
-------------------

"dammit zammy! i'm hungry now, go cook me some grits. STAT. PRONTO. ASAP."

"how many times do i have to tell you J (says something in spanish which i assume is 'don't nobody know what grits is')" zammy says

"si seniorita" i reply

"forget it J, you ruined the mood."

"i done told you once i don't know no spanish, i speak portuguese. learn some portuguese and then we can hold a conversation. and on top of that i said i was HUNGRY now go cook me some fuckin grits WOMAN! i done been out here four cotton pickin' weeks and don't nobody cook fuckin grits. don't they know i get cranky when i don't eat. don't they know that a growing black man needs his daily dose of some grits. yal better figure this shit out or cali is in fuckin trouble."

"you done now?"

"yeah, i'm done. still hungry tho."
 --------------------------

"i like your accent J. u sound extra cuuuntry when you get mad though"

"and you sound hella mexican when you moanin my name"

"whatever J, last time i checked you were too busy chasing after some douche."

"he's a cunt. i'm the douche. but he's my number one bestie buddy who happens to be named cunt. baah."

"did you just make a sheep noise."

"sí, consiguió un problema(yeah, you got a problem with this)"
w
"seeeeee J, you do know some spanish. now stop grabbin my bag of tricks"

"oh, i thought that was your dick zammy. my b.

"its okay, next time just aim higher."

"there's a next time?"

"we'll see J, we'll see."

today is Ks birthday

you see that camera up there. no. not that one. the one on the left. yeah, next to the icon. do me a favor. click it.

bad things come in threes

but i'm still cali bound in a hour.

i should be back in cali in an hour even with all the information i found out the last two/three days. still livin the "dream" still doing what i came to do. fuck the world right? it's all about me. being a selfish little fuck. but not really.

bad thing one:

K's suicide attempt number thirteen. same as the last one but closer to death. she cut both wrists this time, after she swallowed a bottle of painkillers. one of her roommates found her and rushed her to the hospital. she spent the last few days in the psych ward under suicidal watch. she's back on her meds. she's gonna take some time off from school. and has started to see a therapist. K will be better. she promised me.

bad thing two:

my family still never tells me anything. i'm fuckin J and they treat me like i'm still that insecure kid that never spoke. turns out my grandmother has been in the hospital for the last week. she has diabetes and high blood pressure and had a few complications, hence the hospital stay. no one called me. no one told me when i called them, but i receive a phone call and its my grandmother crying. telling me how she's lying in a hospital bed and all she wanted was a phone call from me. problem is, i didn't know. so i feel guilty. i feel saddened. and then i remember. no one tells me anything so this isn't my fault. i tell her i love her, and say i'm in georgia i'll try and see you before i leave. too bad i'm cali bound. have to wait til christmas.

bad thing number three:

i posted a cryptic post a while back. it was about my mother. i only told one person what it meant. his name was robby, dirty santa extraordinaire. my mom could possibly have breast cancer. four months later and we still don't know. she received a certified letter stating she needs to have her mammogram redone. if she has cancer, then there's nothing i can really do for her. i'm fuckin J. livin my "dream" on the californian coast. but hey, this is what i signed up for. too late to turn back now, because my plane leaves in less than an hour. maybe if i'm lucky my plane will crash and i'll be on tv.

that won't happen because a brilliant man, lets call him god, told me once.

J, you're gonna die. you're gonna die on septemeber 28. you're gonna be walking home from school and SPLAT. a plane is gonna crush your cranium. and you're gonna be dead. not the 27th, because thats my birthday. but the 28th.

a brilliant man once told me that, and then he turned his back on me. jack would never do that. zammy would never do that. neither would randy. but god did. hows that for religion.hows that for befriending a sheep.

currently listening to Fight For This Love by Cheryl Cole

cheryl cole saved me from the darkness

listen. thanks jack.

operation: downfall, commences

as i type this my best friend is in some georgia emergency room fighting for her life while her stomach is being pumped. and i can't help but feel responsible. the last few days i've been seeing images of death pile up around me. i wake up and its the first thing i think about. i dream about people dying. i have flashes of death. and then i have moments where i'm in the present, but i'm not really here. i'm somewhere else, but i can't control what i'm doing i can only see.

today was one of those days. i woke up, and i had one of those moments. i pick up my phone, call my friend, but he doesn't answer. a woman does, and tells me he's no longer with us. i pause for a moment, take in the news, and quickly try to figure out a way to hack all his accounts so his family never has to know who he truly was.

i have these gut instincts, that i trust more than anything. i don't trust people. they lie. i lie. the truth is a lie. its all about perception. people believe what they want to believe. but i have my instincts, and i trust them more than anything, but they were wrong this time. he's not the one fighting for his life, K is. and i can't help but feel responsible.

its always been me and K against the world. we've always been there for one another and everything always worked out. but the moment we seperated shit just began to hit the fan and i took it upon myself to take responsibility for K. K has a tendency to take tings a little too serious. she gets angry, and she yells and a lot of people can't handle her personality. so after she does what she does, i'm always there to fix things. its what i do. i fix things.

me and K haven't seen each other in over a year. and within this year K has already tried to kill herself once. it wasn't the first time though, i've been dealing with this stuff since i was eleven. i've spent a few nights holding K reassuring her everything is gonna be okay. that shit will work out, it always does. to trust me, because i'm J and i know things. but i haven't been there for her this last year. i haven't been there to reassure her that everything is gonna be okay. that it will all work out, because i'm J and i know things. i took a break from K to figure my life out and maybe thats where i fucked up. K has a lot of demons to deal with, and she was recently diagnosed as being bipolar which explains a lot of things about her.

but here i am once again, with K on the verge of dying and once again i'm not there for her. the last time this happened i just cried myself to sleep and prayed that she'd be okay, but i have a gut feeling that she won't be. i just don't know. the only thing i do know is i'm leaving for georgia in an hour, but i don't know if i'm coming back. cali was suppose to be kind. it was suppose to be everything i asked for. and it was. but if i lose my best friend and i'm still in cali, i won't forgive myself. school can wait. life can wait. but i refuse to put K on pause.


this is something i have to do, and i'll deal with the repercussions later.

the conversationalist II

"J" Zammy said.

"Zam" i replied.

"whats goin on with you? i was hopin i'd catch you alone so we could talk."

"about what?"

"i don't know. stuff i guess. you've been so cold the last few days. we don't make eye contact anymore. you've stopped talking to people, you've just been distant. so talk to me. tell me what's wrong."

"life. i mean, i'm not even fuckin great yet and the world is already turning on me. i'm just golden plated and the world is like FUCK YOU BITCH, DIE."

"don't sell yourself short J, you're fuckin GOLDEN."

"trust me Zam, i'mm not. i'm more like tinfoil and thats on a good day."

"you're more like a la quinceanera on a bad day."

"but, i'm a guy."

"so, doesn't change the fact that i wanted one when i turned fifteen now does it? NOPE! so what's eating at you?"

"bitches and niggers Zam. i'm in love with aguy, but he doesn't even notice me. i'mnm in the fuckin friend zone and i'll always be there, but he's in 'love' with some dumb fuck that makes him feel unworthy and it frustrates the hell out of me. its like. WHY IS HE A GOD TO YOU, ya know?"

"yeah, sorry dude. so you;re gay?"

"i'm bi. i like vagina on special occasions like birthdays, holidays, and every other third wednesday."

"ahh, same here."

"i know zam. alexa told me the other day after you left us during lunch. your secrets safe with me."

"i know too J, alexa also told me that you had a crush on me and hawaiian jack. and i can't speak for hawaiian jack, but i wouldn't mind hanging out sometime and getting to know you better."

"yeah, i think i'm gonna pass zam. its not you, its me."

"what the fuck man. you like me. i like you. why can;t we coexist J."

"did you not just here me when i said i'm in love with a guy who doesn' like me back. does that not mean anything to you."

"it means you need to move the fuck on cause he's not worth the fuckin trouble."

"bitch"

"did you just call me a bitch, J?"

"yeah, aren't you too busy fuckin alexa anyway."

"me and alexa are just friends you fuckin asshole."

"i'm a douche, not an asshole."

"you're a fuckin cunt bucket J, thats what you are. you know what, FUCK YOU!"

"fuck me and my big dick right zam?"

"wait.....what? you have a big dick J?"

"yeah, but isn't this the part where you call me a douche and walk away?"

"can i see it?"

"see what zam?"

"your dick dumbass. you like dick. i like dick. help an esse out."

no nigga, i'm tryna be respectable. and i thought we were arguing zam?"

"yeah we were, but then you said big dick, and we were arguing over stupid shit. so can i see it now?"

"no."

"you're a fuckin tease J."

"no you're a tease zam. comin in class with them tight ass jeaans on. that wifebeater. sweatin and shit. then puttin ya hands in ya boxers and shit. youre a fuckin tease."

"yeah i know. i saw you glancin a few times. figured i'd put on a show for you."

i laughed out loud and said, "whatever zam, can we go now, we're gonna be late for class."

"damn J, yeah we can go now, but my birthdays in a few weeks i'm just letting you know i wanna see that dick beforwe i turn nineteen."

"damn son, you young. i have badluck with them young boys. especially when they're mexican. just ask my ex."

"don't worry J, i won't break your heart if you let me in."

"thats the problem. its in pieces...."

i need

i need to get my life in order.
i need to stop for a second.
i need to figure things out.
i need to move on.
i need someone to hold my hand.
i need for someone to care.
i need someone to make this fuckin pyramid on my fuckin coffee table cause im about to make a fuckin c.
i need a high.
i need a car.
i need a job.
i need another epiphany.
u need me, but you want him.
i need just one serious conversation.
i need to finally deal with these demons from my childhood.
i need to figure out why i constantly go back to you, get my hopes up, and then come crashing down. i guess i love the pain. i really hate him. i hate what he does to you. but i hate the he makes you feel so low, but then the next day youre all happy in love. i dont understand. i don't even care anymore. i don't care about shit anymore, but figuring out how im gonna make it to school without this pyramid falling apart.
hi, my namal is jamal hubbard and i'm an x-aholic.

now watch my downfall.

currently listening to Golden by Fall Out Boy

it all makes sense now

i had this really long epicaly drawn out post that i've been writing over the last few days. i wrote it at the bus stop and it was probably one of my greatest piece of literature i've ever written. i did a lot of observing and some critical thinking and then made up some things to conceal the truth, but also to highlight some cryptic messages. then someone says to me.

"J, my conversations with you and my undeniably sexy and epic boyfriend are the same. except or one thing. i love you. platonically."

and shit just makes sense now. so i scrapped that piece of literature and i'll keep it in my sketchbook to remember the memories by, now i feel like i need a new subtitle or something for the blog because this realization changes a lot of things for me. but yeah, talked to randy the other day. he's doing good. still traveling the world. he has a plan. he'll be safe. he's a fighter. hhurry back though, i miss you randall randy pennington the third.

currently listening to Yo Side of the Bed by Trey Songz

the conversationalist pt. I

"what are you doing?" zammy asked.

"preparing myself for the world to turn on me," i replied.

"really?"

"yeah, i mean, walk with me for a sec. you give the world eveerything and then they get greedy. they feel like YOU owe THEM. it's like I OWE YOU, nigga please. i gave you everything i had to offer and you still want more. i'm not britney spears. i can't keep giving you more and more. i can't do it. i won't do it. i refuse to do it. especially when you're just gonna turn on me the first chance you get."

"why do you think the world is gonna turn on you?"

"i'm not a fan of history or anything like that, zammy, but i do know history repeats itself. and the world always turns their backs on the greats. michael, whitney, britney, even mariah. so yeah, i'm pretty sure my day will come and i wanna be prepared."

"yeah, i guess you're right then."

"i know i'm right. i'm motherfuckin j. i know things."

"LOL(he actually laughed out loud) but just so you know j, i'd never turn on you. i'm not that heartless. *smiles* so...you like britney, eh."

"yep, britney is the shit."

"yeah, she is."

"thats odd, i thought i was the only person who felt this way about my britney."

"nah, i guess there's tw of us now. we should hang out one night and listen to music."

"i'd like that zammy."

zammy smiles and says "i could potentially love that."

i swoon and break up the moment with the first thing that came to mind "so how bout this ladies pubic hair, epicly curly right?"

"epicly curly j. i couldn't put it better myself."

currently listening to Gimme More by Britney Spears

remember this:its important

running through the lies you told me i stop. i'm passed the i love yous, but still in the midst of the get the hell out of my life and the i hate yous. i stop and stare, but nothing is as i remember. the chair isn't broken, the blood isn't on the floor, and your picture isn't in the frame. none of this is real. then i wake.

i wake to you bent over before me and your face is flushed. you're punching me in my chest, but i feel no pain. a liquid begins to fall and i look to the left, to the left.

one drop.

two drop.

three.

i try to move, but my body doesn't respond. wake the fuck up J, wake up you scream as you continue to pound my chest with the might of the gods. my body begins to convulse uncontrolably and my vision blurs. my heart is running a marathon, while my body is fighting to live. the tremors stop, but the liquid from your eyes continues to fall.

drip...

drip...

drip.

i'm drowning now. i can't breathe. you're drowning me. i never learned to swim. i'm an aquarius and you're drowning me with your tears.

seven drop.

eight drop.

nine.

i'm drowning, i'm an aquarius, and i'm drowning.

my life is a greek comedy. remember this, its important.

currently listening to I Need A U by Letoya Luckett

because i am a virgin

my heart hurts. but mainly my chest. my brain is dead too. i wrote myself a few sticky notes. each one a different bright, electric color so i would notice them on my bland eggshell door. each one said "take your medicine J." my brain is dead. i'm braindead, because even with the colorful notes, i forgot too take my medicine two days in a row. now my heart hurts. i'm alreaady confused. and i'm probably gonna die in a few days. it was nice knowing most of you. especially you aek, you leave comments. WOOT! WOOT!

i think i'm gonna cut my losses and go join a convent, maybe the peace corps, or maybe go to my plan B. i think i'll look good in an air force uniform, and i hear the ladies love a man in uniform, not that i remotely care. cause i don't. maybe a little. but not really. people are confusing too. i know this now. i've realised in the last few days that i always find myself in the same situations. you would think that after nineteen years of living life i would know better by now. well, i don't.

but i blame it on

• not having a childhood
• growing up too fast
• being naiive
• discovering everything i believe in is based on a lie
• trusting people 
• puttnng too much faith in others
• caring about people when they're actions say they don't give a shit about me
  
• andnmost importantly, i blame it on the goose, cause i'm feeling pretty loose right now

i've come to realize that i'm never number one and i probably will never be number one. but i'm epically awesome at being number two(the backup friend/buddy). or as i've come to call it the conveniant friend. i'm never enough to be number one on someones list, but i'm always there when you need something. because thats just who i am. i'm a giver. i put others before myself, like a dumbass. i'm not selfish. i'm convenient, because you know that if you ask for something i'll pretty much say yeah (still working on saying no, its just so hard). need a little help with some work. i'm your guy. bored out of your mind and no one else is around. i'm your guy. taking a break at work. i'm your guy.

i'm that guy. i'm number two. i'm conveniant. and thats all i am. i'm your convenient fuck. your convienent friend. your convenient douchebag. and that my friends is lesson one in douchebaggery 101.

currently listening to Venus vs. Mars by Jay Z

down the rabbit hole

i did it.

i shouldn't have, but i did. and i regret it now.

shit just got serious.

i haven't felt so numb since a year ago. its funny how my emotions run in a cyclical cycle. this is a lie, but you get the point. the day started off bad. i almost gave up, but my dad was a marine and he instilled values in me. beat. the. pussy. up. and he did. but that didn't help me get through the day.

frustration. mass confusion. sleep deprivation. hunger. headache. awkwardness. acrophobia. and clautophobia all led me to this breaking point, and when i reached out to those closest to me only to find myself standing on a ledge. i did the unthinkable. i jumped. but he caught me. he gave me hope. he made me feel warm. he made me feel better.

if only i could bottle that shit up and wear it around my neck, i would.

i did it, and i regret it. i looked. i saw. and now i'm numb again. the day just got bad again and the morning will be worse. the days to follow have two distinct paths. the one i should follow. and the one i will. the one laced with self-medication. sprinkled with quick highs. doused with false sense of security, but i don't care anymore. because everything i believed in. everything i've based my ideologies on. everything i am, is a lie.

i'm dying.

but i'm killing myself to live.

currently listening to the Cryptic Symposiums by Jace Yang

this is love

this is love and it comes from my mouth. you're nobody until i've confessed my love for you and when i do, great things will come your way. i've confessed my love to numerous people and look at them now. ones in hong kong livin it up. another finally got a job at staples. and one is discovering the underbelly of the mexican drug cartel. three different people and the only thing they have in common is me. so if you wanna go places. if you wanna be somebody. then get to know me. cause once i say, i love you then you've got it made.

currently listening to Skype Me by jhubbard08

in that moment, he was infinate

i figured it was finally time to show the few pics i've taken in my first week in Las Angeles, so here they are.

these should be kinda self-explanatory. basic the outside of the school i'll be attending for the next four years. so far i'm enjoying everything, but the class schedule is rigorous and the homework is plenty, but its open 24 hours aday so i can't complain.

this is my attempt at a tiggah food shot and to show my OB that i'm trying knew foods. my cousin who i never knew about until about a week ago showed me around Hollywood and took me to his favorite thai restaurant. we had some kind of seadfood thing and i think some thai noodles. i enjoyed it.

more shots from hollywood and i will admit i was a little disappoint. the stars were okay, the chinese theartre was nice, but hollywood isn't as glitzy as they make it seem. but i did have fun, and i did find it a little odd that kids were running through these fountains with no clothes on, but they seemed like they were having fun. and for some reason when i saw this little boy on the right i smiled and thought about my OB for a second.
i'm a pepsi fan and love good typography.


my cousin also took me to his favorite armenian restaurant in little armenia. i don't remember what we had or the name of the restauraant, but the food was really good.




basically a few shots from the bus station i sit at everyday, and the number 3 big blue bus i ride on a daily basis.

and last but not least a few shots from the el segundo beach. its only about five minutes from where i'm staying so i decided to walk to it and i'm glad i did. the ocean was beautiful, and romantic. maybe one day i'll be able to bring someone with me and we can watch the sunset.



thats my huge foot and a little cryptic message.

currently listening to Itty Bitty Piggy by Nicki Minaj

if only it were true

i wrote this entry about a week ago sitting in the lobby of a Super 8 motel. the hotel was owned by an Indian couple, but all the workers were Mexican. how do i know this? because i asked. down the road from the Super 8 is the Los Angeles International Airport, and across the street is a Burger King. this Burger King is owned by god knows who, but is operated by about 47 Mexican employees. how do i know this? because i asked.

i wanted to be a journalist. i was gonna ask the tough questions like if you come from Laos, but you don’t speak lao and you don’t claim Laos heritage then what are you? most likely hmong. and i miss my hmong sausage. i miss a lot of things, but i don’t miss Georgia. i wanted to be a journalist. i was gonna ask the tough questions, then i realized something. i don’t ask myself the tough questions so how can i ask someone else.

i wrote this whole entry about a week ago sitting in the lobby of a Super 8 motel and i deleted it about six seconds ago. there maybe i’ll post it one day, but for now it’ll remain a mystery.

currently listening to Fall by Brandy

i give up

i honestly do. i just give up. shit would be easier this way. i need you out of my life. i need shots back. i need mark. i need something to pass the time. i need someone to keep me busy. i need something i need someone. i just need to be needed. sex is a high for me. i feel needed during sex. i feel wanted. i'm on a high. and when they say the things they say the way they say it i feel accomplished. i feel wanted. i feel good.

its like a drug. i'm that drug. and they're addicted. but i need them just as much as they need me. i need a job. i need something to occupy my time cause right now. at this very moment i feel lost. i don't like this feeling. i want shots. i want mark. i want robby. i want K. i want a few select athenians. i want those three guys from my art classes.

le sigh

life goes on. atleast i love otis. i love LA. i love my roomies. i love el segundo.

but still. i feel like i'm missing something. fuck.

endless thoughts of a scattered mind

i’m afraid of heights, but i’ve never felt more at ease than when i was flying through the air across the united states. there’s was just something so comfortable about packing up all my things and leaving all the negativity behind in Georgia. i’ve been in California for almost a week and not once have i thought about going back home. i have a new home now, and its in el Segundo.

los angeles is different from Georgia. its different from every place i’ve ever lived and i think it was made for me. i haven’t felt awkward. i haven’t felt out of place. i haven’t felt anything negative. i only feel like can finally become the man i should be. i think i’m gonna like it here. i know i’m gonna love it.

so much is goin through my head right now its hard to make sense just exactly what’s reality and what’s fantasy. mark you make me smile. nigga you suck. not you mark. that other nigga. HIM. i have a bad heart and i can tell when it skips a beat. i need more medicine. i need health insurance. i need a job. i have a life now. i miss you jack. robby come back. life goes on while i hold back. the last breath i take will be the first you make. and it goes on. and on. and on.

endless thoughts of a scattered mind. some fact. some fiction. but all real.

currently listening to You're A Jerk by New Boyz

quick update

just a quick post to let everyone i'm not dead. i'm lovin LA and don't wanna leave. i really love the El Segundo area too. but i need somewhere to stay. anyone wanna be my roomate let me know.

lyfe255754@gmail.com

just because its been a week

"you make me feel whole. you make me feel new"

no clue where the quote comes from. no clue if i wrote it or someone else wrote it. maybe i wrote it about someone. this i don't know. but i wrote it in a post a week ago and never finished it. this isn't a real post, just something to feed the birds. the real post is about art.

the picture is here because some blogger thought it would be a "wicked" idea to post your desktop picture. this is mine. that is scott pilgrim. and i was close to changing it to some picture of my favorite panel in this comic i read. but yeah...

currently listening to the Tidal Wave by Cesario's Haiku Army

complexities of memories

i was epic. now i’m just a shadow of who i could have been. i loved too much. i trusted too long. i gave away my essence in hope of finding something too strong. i don’t know where i’m headed. just the direction. westward then up. i don’t know what i’m looking for. i’m not even looking anymore. i’m just headed west and then upward.

life is too long to be boggled down by insignificance. to be distracted by meaningless squabbles. to stay focused on something that is not good for you. to want what you can’t have. you have to move on. you have to pack up your bags and move across the country. good things don’t come to those who wait. but great things come to those who go out and grab them.

when i was eleven my younger brother seven. when i was eleven i wanted a lava lamp for no other reason but to say that i have a lava lamp. there’s nothing special about lava lamps, but its what i wanted. its what i desired. its what i thought i needed at the time. so i waited. and waited. and waited some more. when my younger brother turned eight, i was still eleven. when he turned eight a small part of me died and a jealous part of me was born.

i was no longer the baby. i was no longer the favorite. i was the middle child no one had to worry about. i wasn’t even the kid with the lava lamp. my eight year old little brother was the kid with the lava lamp. i waited and waited and i’m still waiting. i don’t want to be that eleven year old kid that waits for greatness to happen. i want to be the kid whose out chasing greatness.

and once again i failed at what this post was suppose to be about. it was suppose to be about how California isn’t a state. it’s a state of mind. three posts down and none of them served their original purpose. maybe i’ll get it right with number four. but i am J, mr.hubbard to some and i like blogging again. i feel like this blog is what southern inebriation should have became. but either way i’m back and i’m pretty sure i’m gonna be here for a few more years.

currently listening to Just Like A Star by Corinne Bailey Rae

cryptic messages of a supernova

eight hours later and i’m covered in cum while soaked in sweat. the ac is broken and my heart is on its last leg. we had a good run, but now its over. a two hour long conversation with K, disconnected chats with shots, and a date with an ellen page movie, but my mind keeps wondering back to you.

i love you. i lost myself in you. now i fear i’m losing you. i don’t want to lose you, but i’m pushing you away we’re migrating away from each other. and i’m hurting. i’m fuckin broken up inside and it hurts. i understand i’m not that guy. i could never be him but DAMN. there’s no way you can tell me that what i’m feeling now isn’t real. that there was never a point where you thought maybe we could have been what you and he are trying to be. there’s no way i can fuckin believe that. we were important once. now i feel we’re two wrong steps and a flat tire from being exiled.

but this is it. this is me putting it all out there. this is me letting go. this is me. this is big boy j speaking now in my serious voice. if you want to reply you know where to find me. write me an epic letter. send me a short fuck you. leave me a do you think my voice is sexy message. or just ignore this. pretend its not about you. that it was never about you. smashing pumpkins. killing myself to live. celibacy. naruto. just play dumb. but i’d rather you yell at me. give me a reaction. show me something.

show me you care. convince me we can be great again. convince me we can be what we were before. convince me we can be those pubic hair, rape me, beat me, cheap wal-mart wine drinking kids we once were and not the cryptic message messiahs we’ve become.

we were epic. now we’re just rage against the machines.

currently listening to Delicate by Damien Rice

be.kind.cali

sweat drips down the side of my face while damien rice fills the background. still a little bit of your taste in my mouth. still a little bit of you laced with my doubt. the room is still as x fills my mind up with images i wish were long forgotten and shots comments on my choice of music before he goes to cook. things are looking up.

my mind has been all over the place the last few weeks. life. sex. death. life. love. loss. ambitions. future. past. mistakes. you. me. us. we. her. him. me. it. they all brought me to the conclusion that i am me. all the decisions i've made. all the mistakes i've commited. all the things i’ve said all brought me to where i am now. they made me the person i am now. and i'm finally comfortable in my six foot black skin. i can finally say that i am j. i am big j. i am vayjay. i am nonsense. i am jamal. i am gay. was i born this way? i don't think i was, but i am now. and it doesn't bother me because i'm more than just a gay man.

the past year i've been able to come in contact with a bunch of people. none of them the same. and each one had a story to tell and was just looking for someone to listen. i want to be that ear. i want to listen. I want to be that shoulder to lean on because i never had someone like that in my life. because i kept a lot of my emotions bottled up fearing what others would think. fearing that i would look weak. fearing that i would let someone down. fearing that i wouldn’t meet their expectations. that i couldn’t rise to the occasion. that i would always be second best. i don’t want to be anyone’s second best anymore. i won’t allow myself to be. its just unacceptable.

and i want to thank you for helping realize its okay to say no. its okay to be selfish at times and put myself before others. that i’m just as important as everyone else if not more. i just want to say thank you. i’m glad i took the time to listen and you took the time to teach.

this post as a whole is not what it was suppose to be. it was suppose to be one of those “welcome to my blog-this is me” type of posts, but somewhere it turned into what you see. but i guess that is me in a nutshell. what i turned out to be, was not what i should have been.

currently listening to Cannonball by Damien Rice