Ever since I got back from San Francisco, I feel like time has stood still. It's like when you can't wait to finish reading an interesting novel, and when you actually turn to the last page, you are a little worried about whether life will have such a moment of tranquility. When habits are broken, time seems to be stretched or twisted, leaving a void. This kind of deja vu regrets flowing in my childhood memories, which has caused me to be silent at the moment.
Before I came to San Francisco, my roommate told me with a smirk, be ware of the gays, and then a whole room of people sent me off to the van for the airport shuttle. I didn't tell them the fact that I liked guys, and it feels like it's hard to talk about it once the "coming out" opportunity like this is missed. When I said this suddenly when I was parting, I didn't feel like I was making a break, but instead disturbing a memory. Or blame the magical thing of fate, any encounter is written in fate, and what some people see on the journey is only a corner of your soul. I love these 5 straight men from the bottom of my heart. I can only imagine what a different and wonderful encounter we can have at a different time and a different intersection in life. But in the final separation, I chose to remember it with farewell. To be honest, I really enjoyed my time playing the "straight man". I don't want to live in a bubble that doesn't connect with reality, I need someone in my life to play a different role. I enjoyed the thrill of being a double agent, chatting with a bunch of friends and talking about handsome guys and being stupid with a bunch of people pretending to be straight guys. If they knew I was gay and they were another instrument around me, they would never joke about sexuality, they would filter out what they wanted to say. But I actually cherish this kind of truth. I need a group of friends like this to remind me of the rapids surging beneath the calm calm of society, and that I need to always be mindful of my measured indulgence.
But San Francisco is another world. In this world, the rainbow flag, most prominently in the city center, watches over a bay hushed under phantom. I was walking on the street corner of castro and what I saw in the shop window was my own reflection, the reflection of others, with the wrong twist. I am here in another identity. I am an anonymous passer-by, and even if I turn into a feather, it will not cause any ripples. I can finally be an invisible man, even if it's unusual but so boring and gregarious.
The only thing that might spoil this precious escapism is an old friend to meet in San Francisco. It feels like a time forgotten in the alley. Now, on the other side of the world, hugging with Sister A in front of the subway station is like looking at the past self through the window of the museum. The me in Sister A's memory and the me standing in front of her now are not the same person. On the one hand, I am delighted to rekindle the memories of the past, but on the other hand, I am terrified that the past is no longer real. If I told Sister A that I was gay, it would be like tampering with a past encounter. Lies and reality were twisted together, smashing my vigilance about the past and present, and disturbing my deliberately meaningful death. And someone like me who loves to make a fool of myself doesn't like to break the rules of the game that I have made.
But a few hours later, Sister A and I even had a drink at a gay bar. There are also two girlfriends of Sister A in my peers. The three of them even encouraged me to go fishing for Kaizi and buy wine for them. In the ballroom under the neon lights, some people stared naked at the prey around them, some people pressed their lips together, and some people were watching me from the other side of the bar, their eyes indicating his plans for me tonight.
At that moment, I suddenly realized that I had accepted the reality that I was gay without reservation.
Two years ago, I would never have thought that I was in a gay man who was full of testosterone, and I would never have expected that I would sigh a life insight here. The deepest fantasies buried in the subconscious once overlapped with the present reality, silently pulling me into chaos and making me question all the assumptions that gave me truth. From a person who couldn't even conceive of the concept of "homosexuality", I have grown into a teacher who came out to others as soon as they met. How much time has baptized me? What did I go through to become a person I didn't even know myself. Body or body, when did the soul transform into the me I am today?
I remember the confusion of adolescence in junior high school, and I remember the girl I had a crush on in high school. I remember leaning against the corner of the bed and crying silently, and I remember suddenly telling a crowd of strangers that I had a boyfriend in Truth or Dare. I remember the heart rate ticking when I first kissed a same-sex, and I remember hating God and hating my hands clenched. But I don't remember how I let it go, and I don't remember how I found the courage to look at the man across the bar now.
I remember that the next day, I was in a strange city, overlooking the bustling city. I remember that as a passer-by in my life, he was tired with me in a corner of the park, and each was quiet in his own world. He was lying flat on the grass, leaning against my stomach, whispering. I looked at the dog in the light and shadow, squinting on the side of the hill. At that moment, I felt that I loved him, even if the next second my heart no longer belonged to anyone.
Back from San Francisco, life returned to familiar patterns, as if this episode were leftovers from someone else's journey. But life has indeed changed, as if facing an old lover, familiar but out of reach.
I don't know what I've been avoiding from the past, and now I understand. The past me is a real doubt about the present me, just like the dark matter will corrode the bright matter and cannot coexist. But the meaning of rebirth comes from death, and the value of seeking is based on confusion. My past is a pile of exposed film. Look back and enjoy it, no regrets.
Sister A said that she must take the Dangdang bus when she came to San Francisco, but this time she was in a hurry and couldn't drive around the city center all the way to the pier. In addition, someone needs to take me to see the night view of San Francisco. I don't think this city is just a passing relationship.
(Intellectual and beautiful male writer, high-quality boring and distracting toilet books, big and small things Gay circles, gay corruption is more basic. WeChat public number: male pet Alice)
View more about Looking reviews
