My Most Influential Coming Out Letter
My Most Influential Coming Out Letter
I know the position you are in, I am in it too, and I have been for years. Let me do this for you. What I am about to give you is the full context of my experience with something that I have "carried" in my mind for the entire length of some 12 years. Each and every day since the age of 8, the context of this conversation has been a paramount concern in my mind - one of suffering if you will. I recognize that to you this may not be easily grasped - the magnitude of the emotion that I have carried with me, but I am confident that after relating it to you, it will all be of value. Bare with me on this one, you're the first person with whom I have ever expressed this -- you should also know my reasons for doing so. They are selfish reasons, reasons which I recognize as being important to my values of integrity and nothing more. I am sharing this with you because I want you to know that you are not alone and that we never had to endure the suffering that we are experiencing. It wasn't necessary -- it never was. Let me begin: I was enrolled in kindergarten at the age of four in a small town in Wyoming where my mother and I lived with her parents. It wasn't more than a few hundred people -- if that -- spread across a great expanse of land. There were two distinct families that I associated with at the time. One family was composed of three girls - one my age and the other two slightly older. The second was made of only a boy that was my age. I don't recall exactly how our relationship came into existence, but it did. Over a short period of time it evolved into something truly wonderful to all of us. The five of us, in complete innocence and bliss, would get together, strip nude and begin the motions of sex with one another. What intrigues me about this memory is: What is the thing that allowed us to know that the positions we were letting our bodies assume, their close relationship to one another, was the forefront of sex? When I try to determine this I draw a blank conclusion - I don't know. I can choose to blame it on some primal scapegoat such as instinct, however I don't believe that humans posses any inherent knowledge at birth such as animals do. We posses the faculty of rational thought as our only instinctive attribute -- what we choose to discover with that is entirely described by our perceptions of reality - or what we experience. This is the only way, that I accept, for us to have formed the knowledge which allowed us to do what we were doing. We were performing according to knowledge that we had created. What process of conscious reasoning formed those abstractions are a mystery -- but anyway -- what's important here is that somehow, they were formed and shared by each of us. We would pass away long hours, examining each others bodies intimately and with thorough interest. Testing this and that, experimenting, discovering each other. The concept of gender was a recognized attribute - the girls body was different from ours, but we weren't concerned with the idea of who was doing what to whom. To make this clear - the girls with the boys, the boys with the boys, the girls with the girls, all of us together - the combinations were not of importance. The essence of our actions were however, they allowed sensations of tremendous joy. We loved it. I moved into Colorado a few years later, my age now is eight and I am enrolled into the third grade - preparing to enter the fourth. During that time, I spent a generous amount of time at someone else's house that I could only identify as being the baby-sitter. There were four people with which to interact there - the mother and father of the house, and their two kids - a girl and a boy of mid-adolescence (14 and 15 respectively). They lived in a bustling community, with the freedom of the outdoors right in the back yard. There was a hill that rose behind the house and the three of us kids would pass away time exploring the area to see what we could find. Mostly pretending to be on some expedition of sorts - purely fantasy in origin. One afternoon the boy (Tim) and I were traversing the hill and we came across a large hole in the ground which served as a depository of used adult magazines. Right there before my eyes were fantastic images of people doing interesting things - things that I had not done since the age of four and not exactly in the manner that I was seeing, however the essence of those actions were preserved in my mind and I associated those to what it was that they were doing; the interest of that knowledge was sparked in my mind anew. I remembered all of those things that I had done - all of those wonderful interactions what were so much fun - those things that all of us had looked forward to with a greedy covertness from all of the adults. Here it was again. The intensity of this passed with little action -- I knew that I wanted to do something about it, but I did not know what. Later on, when the girl (Brenda) and I would be on that hill I would "accidentally" chance upon the pile of magazines, and pretend to be in complete amazement at what I was seeing - just as I did when I was with Tim. I'm not positive what events transpired, but I made it clear to the two of them - separately of course, without the other knowing - that I wanted to discover more of this and would they show me. Things progressed from going back to that hill and having her remove her shirt and allow me the discovery of her body - she allowed me it all. It began as admiration, then contact, and evolved into excitement. I did the same thing with Tim, on that hill, him exposing his body to me and allowing me to go through the full cycle of admiration, contact and excitement of that body. Needless to say, things progressed to such a state that we were bringing each other to orgasm with regularity. Keep in mind that they were unaware that I was doing this with both of them. I was the only one who fully understood that nature of my actions, and at the time I could only describe them as a state of being "happy." I looked forward to having them - to having her body, what I came to identify as her breasts and her pussy, her mouth and body, and on him what I came to identify as his dick, his chest, and his mouth. We would suck, kiss, taste - whatever we wanted whenever, and where ever we wished to do it - as long as it was a secret from everyone else. This was the paramount requisite - I didn't want anyone else to know what we were doing and they shared that exact viewpoint with me. Keep it a secret. I can only attempt to convey the thrill of sucking his dick and watching his body react to it, or tasting her breasts and having her body become excited against mine. It was nothing short of the greatest thing I had ever done. I couldn't possibly have enough of it - I was so attached to having them - giving them pleasure by sucking this or kissing that or holding this or rubbing that and knowing that I was free to do whatever I choose to do and that it was okay with them for me to do it. The relationship was completely reciprocal in nature - they returned the favor to my young little body, albeit, at the age of eight I am certain that I couldn't muster what I would later call a hard-on, much less blow my load of cum, but I could experience a point -- at which, after extreme stimulation of my dick, my body would lighten itself and I would prepare for the most intense sensation that I have ever known. When it reached that point, I screamed out for them to stop whatever it was that they were doing - STOP - but oh how I wanted more of it, only it was so intense that I couldn't handle it. It was simply too much for my body to handle in a physical sense. Time passed with them and I had my fun with their bodies. They were teenagers, their bodies were beautiful, young and pure. Every facet of their being was perfect to me. The shape of her body and breasts and the size and texture of his dick and body and my experiencing them set the standard for everything else that I was to expect from sex in life - the values by which I would judge having another human being and whether or not I would desire to give them the pleasure that I knew how. Life was light and filled with energy. I was a bright young boy, experiencing life like no other boy I knew. Incidentally I kept all of this a secret - what I had experienced was almost a decade beyond my peers. I would listen to them creating stories of this organ of the body or that one and how it would react when you did this to it and I would laugh at the absurdity of it all. My body, that of an eight year-old, encased a brain that had the knowledge and experience of a teenager's discovery of sex. What I knew then was superior to everything that my peers could possibly invent on their own. They hadn't a clue about what they were discussing when attempting to discover sex -- I had already done it. I had, not only the knowledge of those actions, but the inherent, burning desire for more of them with each and every day of life. It was about this time, at the climax of my sexual discovery, that it was all shattered, twisted, and destroyed. One morning, as I was dressing for school, my mother walked in on me masturbating in my room. This was something which I had been performing in the absence of my relationship to Tim and Brenda. It was my own personal fulfillment. It was mine. I knew nothing of it as being a dirty, filthy, corrupt thing. As being something that was bad, wrong and got me into trouble. Needless to say, these were the impressions I received from my mother as I stood nude in her presence. "Why was I doing THIS?" she asked pointing to my little red dick as it slowly subsided. Who was it that showed me this? What is it that made me want to do it? On and on and on the inquisition continued. It was, in that moment, that my entire reality, a reality of something that I had come to regard as complete joy and fulfillment, was destroyed. I did not disclose to my mother the nature of actions that were responsible for allowing me this wondrous discovery. I quickly invented a lie. One that was simply - I don't know, it's just there and it feels weird. I began to bury everything, all the desire, the love, the wanting, the images of what I had done, into a single category with a bright, flashing, marquee of WRONG pasted on top of it all. I began wetting the bed. My life assumed a closed and restricted state of existence, I wasn't interested in anything. I was bad. What I had done was wrong. I was to expect punishment for it all. Please imagine the intensity of this - the complete destruction of what I had - it was all gone. I lived in fear of anyone ever discovering what I had done. I buried it so deep, and closed it of from my mind so tightly, believing that what I had done would guarantee me a place in that mystical place I did not understand, but others feared and called hell. It didn't take long for those memories to resurface, for the wants, desires, and images that I had, to come floating back into my mind. I was alone. I wasn't complete with myself or life anymore. I had been reduced into a sniveling little brat that wet the bed, couldn't make friends, and passed away my time in resentful solitude from others. Each and every day - the memories of what I had were in my mind. The feel and texture of his dick in my mouth as I sucked him and watched as his head tossed from side to side in ecstasy. The taste of her breasts as I licked the tight pink nipples, rubbing her pussy with my small hands and feeling her experience joy. Those are the things that I held in my mind for the last 12 years. I knew that to me, those things were no longer bad, wrong or anything negative, they were wonderful. I discovered that the world in which I lived, my reality, did not accept such things as being wondrous. They were regarded as sinful, bad, immoral, wrong. I strove to conform to those standards, in complete contradiction to what my mind was telling me was the true nature of those actions. I allowed myself to continue to have them in my mind, but they were veiled under the body of a liar - not one who was committing a breach of morality to others by my actions - but to myself for denying the rational thought of my own mind over the collective mysticism of something called "society," something whose values were a continual topic of interest for the adults. I did not touch another human body again until I was 18. It was female and wasn't out of my own moral convictions or values, but a promiscuity that I desired in stark defiance of everything that I valued. I did not stop wetting the bed until the age of 15. I did not make friends easily until the age of 17. I was considered as being extremely intelligent - capable of great potential - but lacking self-esteem and social values. I lived in a reality where I knew of something - something which existed vividly in my mind for over a decade - that was wondrous. It wasn't until high school - by this time I had moved to Denver - that I became aware that my peers were finally experiencing that which I had done in elementary school. I understood completely that nature of desire, in total - I understood a lot at the age of eight. More than anyone would have ever believed. I became a producer, one who constantly proved his worth by overachieving at anything that did not require a level of interaction with other people. I did not need people. They were no longer important to me. I could be without them and their code of values and their society and all that shit which polluted their minds and shaped their actions. My mind was clear of all of that - but it wasn't free to express itself as it once had for fear of having it exposed for destruction again. As I moved into the more developmental stages of adolescence, I felt the urge to quench my desire to have anther's body with mine. To feel the intensity of contact, to give and receive stimulus pleasure. I discovered that I could find no one with whom to express this desire. I also found that my standards for relationships were of such great integrity that I could not find many with whom I would want to be with. There were people, who in some form, whether it be the shape of their body, the lines of flexing tendons in their neck, the perfection of their mouth, or the strength of their chest - I would be attracted to them based on a combination of smaller sub-characteristics that fit with what I valued as being desirable. I found myself imagining this guy or that guy and this girl or that girl and what I would do to them - how I could make them feel. All the while, the memory that I had had all of that once was tearing through my mind - demanding attention. No longer content to remain hidden. I would invent excuses to be around certain people whose combination of characteristics would be deemed as being important to me. There were those who I wanted because of their hair, or their thoughts, or the lines of their body as they walked or whatever it may have been. I slowly began to break out of my mold, allowing myself the pleasure of interaction with others. Working with them, at times pretending to be stupid or funny or whatever the situation demanded for me to earn the attention of others long enough to allow them to judge me. I wanted to have them in my life - and I to be a part of theirs. I found that there was something that stopped me - although I became amazingly proficient at talking to and relating with others. Working with them, helping them, chatting with them, but never actually going out and interacting with them. I had some conception that there was something missing in me - something which made me unworthy of their approval. Not that I was too good for them, but the exact opposite - they were too good for me. I decided that it was my appearance - I had the brain - but the body was sloppy and unattractive. I immersed myself into changing that - in the hopes that THAT was finally the determining factor that would allow me the pleasure of being with other people. I molded my body, from a selfless, pitiful collection of flesh into a powerful tribute to greatness in the human form of health, success and achievement. I was proud of my body. The sharp lines of my chest, the strength of my legs, the definition of my arms when I flexed them. I worked at various jobs, manual labor, walking or riding my bike a distance of miles on a daily basis, enrolling in weightlifting classes at school and shaping myself into what I wanted. Along with this came a sense-of-life that I had not experienced much since I was a little kid at the age of eight. Up till then the only thing that made me proud of being alive was listening to music and the pleasure of admiring the bodies of people that I found to be desirable. I swam, lifted weights, worked and practiced my composure with attention to the tiniest of details - such as the perfect linear placement of each foot step as I walk, wasting no energy on excess movement, but flowing as a single volitional being, holding my head up and eyes forward to face the world, my shoulders pulled up and back, my chest forward, my stomach inward, my face open. With the strictest regiment of attention, I devoted myself to making each facet of my body and mind flawless. I wanted people to look at me and have a single thought of "Wow," enter their minds. I achieved that end after two years of work. Now, almost three years later, it is all natural. I don't have to expend a tremendous amount of energy to do those things. It's what I am. People look at me and think such things as "Wow," and whatever words can provide them with an image of a human being as one should properly exist on this earth. Even though I had eliminated the problem of appearance, I still didn't carry my involvement with people down to the actual level of interacting with them - of participating in their lives. There are only three people - of my own age or generation - with whom I hold as being actual, physical friends whose lives I concern myself with. I will admit however, that in the last three months, I have engaged in doing something about all of that. You see, it is no problem for me to be with people, whether it be face to face contact, a voice over the telephone, or words on a computer screen, I am all things to all people. I am this because I am allowing myself to be what I am, in the most authentic and original state possible to me. It is because of this truthfulness that I have begun to earn friends and engage in relationships - although the facets of my sexual desires, in their true form, are still concealed from them - I am enabling myself the pleasure of interaction once again. I am realizing that all of the suffering which I forced myself to endure was never necessary, and that I am not alone in this discovery. I have a unique ability to communicate - to conceptualize and transmit my thoughts or the thoughts of others. I am using this ability to reinforce the values which I believe are essential to each and every human being on the planet. I want to create a world free from mystical limitations which are imposed by some unknown ideal, to stimulate people into being what they are by their own creative volition, and allowing them to reap the joys that life on earth has to offer. What can you do to escape the suffering of not having what you want? Trace the formation of the values by which you created that necessity and identify why you are hiding from them. Where did you get them from and why have you chosen to ignore them? You do not need the permission of anyone else to express your right to be happy. If you did then you would not be a free human being. Your life would be ruled my some unknown that you fear and cannot identify. I am telling you that such an unknown does not exist except as a false sense of reality in the minds of men. There is not collective party of unknown individuals to which we refer to as society and turn to for guidance when we question the values that we hold. A society, it its true sense, is a large number of men who live together in the same country, and who deal with one another. Society is NOT a super-organism, as some supernatural entity apart from and superior to the sum of its individual members. A great deal may be learned about society by studying man; but this process cannot be reversed: nothing can be learned about man by studying society -- by studying the inter-relationships of entities one has never identified or defined. Integrity is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake your consciousness, you cannot sacrifice your own convictions to the wishes of others, be it the whole of mankind shouting pleas or threats against you. That courage and confidence are practical necessities: that courage is the practical form of being true to existence, of being true to truth; and confidence is the practical form of being true to one's own consciousness. My virtue involved in helping those that I love is not "selflessness" or "sacrifice," but integrity. Integrity is loyalty to one's convictions and values; it is the policy of acting in accordance with one's values, of expressing, upholding and translating them into practical reality. If you profess to love another guy, yet your actions are indifferent, inimical or damaging to him, it is your lack of integrity that makes you immoral. Integrity does not consist of loyalty to one's subjective whims or the whims of others, but of loyalty to your rational principals. You must discover, again, your rational principals which tell you that you love another guy. Once you do, you must act in accordance to those principals, in strict integrity to the values which you hold as being important, and discount the misconceptions of self-doubt that has littered both of our minds. You will be free to pursue the love that you deserve, and always have deserved. By not doing this, what it is that you want, you are compromising your integrity for the collective whims of mankind. Do you truly think that who and what you are - including your credibility - will alter once you stop committing a moral treason against the values of your mind? If you think that you have credibility now, imagine what you will have once you are free to pursue your values. Tell me what your values are - and I will tell you what is possible once you give up the misconceptions of ignoring those values. It is something that I am doing myself, at this very moment - we are in the same boat - we desire the same thing. I have given all of my thought on this to you - here, in full context, the reality of my thoughts and emotions that have enabled me to communicate this to you. At least we have found each other.
Please mail me with your thoughts: nateinet@cris.com
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