Once Again, I Get the Shaft

I totalled my car last night. Damn me for driving fast. Damn me for driving fast with someone else in the car too. I was going probably around 70something on 35mph turns in a backwater Oregon town, and this is my payment. If only we would have driven around and listened to music in HIS car instead, I wouldn't be kicking myself in the balls. So car=gone. My personal icon of independence and livelyhood are sitting in my parents' driveway, with the back smashed in. I really just wanted him there with me, after the crash, waiting for the tow truck. His arms would have made everything okay for the time being, anyway. And knowing him, he would have been wearing a really nice sweatshirt, and it would have kept me warmer too. I could see my breath, I think.

The cop that found us was really nice, and let us keep warm in the cab of his cop car while we waited for the tow truck. He smoked. I like that about him. He was a cop, and he smoked, and he was nice. The other was condescending and lived kitty-corner to my house. I don't like him. The tow-truck operator was kind of a punk too, but at least he did something constructive and pulled my car out. Condescending cop # 2 knocked on the door of my parents' house, trying to wake up somebody after I had called more than 15 times, to no avail. Mom just didnt' wake up until I walked into her room. I cried....or tried to, last night. I felt bad...but I guess not as bad as I felt this morning. I was really hoping that it would all have been a bad dream, but it wasn't. Please let this all have been a bad dream. Mom felt prompted that I should go with her up to the temple this morning, after I told her last night. I conceded and figured "what harm can it do? I already feel like a hypocrite and a failure, at least the pretty scenery will give me some time to cool off and try to mellow out.

I had "the talk" with Mom this morning before we went to the temple. I'm so sick of crying. I told her how I feel about life right now: that I'm walking on a knife-edge, and I'm damned if I fall either way.

Right now/knife edge=living celibate...not getting in trouble...only problem is that I feel like I'm really walking the figurative knife...and my feet are cut so badly. I fall to the left, and I live the lifestyle. Maybe I'm damned for eternity for rejecting the gospel, and maybe I actually end up miserable in this life...but from the experience I've had in the past year, going towards that side is the only relief I've had from this blatant self-hatred. To my left is continuing to "fake it" but I won't "make it," I don't feel. If I keep on grinding myself against the wall that is the church, looking for some hole to squeeze through and find my salvation, I'm going to grind myself to paste before finding anything. And by grinding myself to paste, I mean killing myself.

So it's spiritual death, or physical death...and we only live once. There's not point to living miserably...right? I suppose I could try to live "happy," but I never really know how over the guilt I'd entirely be able to get. That, and the eternal "what if's." Then what if I end up killing myself. I know, I know, cop out. Thing is, I'm scared of effecting more people negatively. I'm scared of the negative influence or affect that I have on anything. I don't want to damage anythign else. It might sound like it's ridiculous, but you know how it's not considered murder if it's in war? Or how it's murder to shed "innocent blood?" I don't see myself as innocent blood. Sure my homosexuallity isn't something that I picked, but I feel like it's made me tarnished...impure and imperfectable. I'm hoping that when I do die, I'll be able to fall down at God's feet, and just cry, and hope that I'm enough...hope that I'll be able to be raised up, and hugged, and told "yes, you did well. You're enough, now take some rest. You've done enough." I guess I'm hoping there'll be some sort of grace for my huge faults. I can hope.