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.