Post by DOMINIC CALEB WILDER on Oct 24, 2014 18:52:48 GMT -5
Dominic C. Wilder,
24 | PANSEXUAL | IN A RELATIONSHIP | PIANO TEACHER / RECEPTIONIST | HERO | DARREN CRISS
WHEN YOUR HEART DON'T FEEL LIKE DANCING, I'LL BE THERE TO GIVE YOU MINE.
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YOUR TOP TEN(-ISH) GREATEST LOVES ! 1. gabe Sometimes, you call him mi corazon. Your heart. Because that's what he is. Or what he has. Or... some combination of the two. You get your romantic metaphors muddled where he's concerned, because you're so head over heels you can't even think straight. You're just so glad he's still here for you to love. The two of you met in the army. He caught your eye one day during a training exercise. He was so intense, so involved in what he was doing, you don't think he saw you. His concentration made you smile. You first kissed him two days later when, drunk, you each wandered away from a communal bonding bonfire and found each other in the dark. He tasted like fear, hate. It should have put you off, but all you wanted to do was take it away and make it better. Despite your instinct to get closer, you didn't get too attached. You were not at a stage in your life where you were willing to make attachments. When you both got deployed to separate places, you stopped thinking about him. You did not think about him for years. You met again some time later, after he had been discharged and while you were on leave. That old connection had lain dormant for years, but it went live again when you were face to face. It wasn't long before he was back in your arms. But his hatred was stronger. Sometimes you thought he hated you. You don't know why you stayed. You don't know why you put up with it. Perhaps you knew it'd be worth it in the end. All you knew at the time was that when you got notice that you were to be deployed again, you were at the same time horrified at the idea of being without him and... relieved. There was relief too. Things happened while you were gone. To him, and to you. War is not easy, no matter how many warzones you've lived through. You came back, physically exhausted and emotionally spent, to find his mom waiting for you at the airport to take you to the hospital, where he had tried to quietly slip from this world without so much as a goodbye. You were angry, but again... relief. That was the more overpowering emotion. That he was still there, that he was still holding on. Even when you found out that the entire time he'd been with you, he'd been with a long-term girlfriend too, you were still too relieved to be as angry as you should have been. Even when you found out that his girlfriend was having his baby, still... still it was just relief. That was when you decided it must be love. You have been together properly now for the better part of a year. You live together. Gabe's ex travels a lot so Gabe has the baby. You have somehow acquired an instant family, and you don't mind. It must be love. Every time you come home and find him waiting for you there, your heart feels so full that it aches. It is definitely love. 2. micah He is your brother. Half brother, but you have never felt as though you have to add the 'half' when you describe him to people. He's also your best friend. He's also the man who raised you. You would not be half the person you are today without him. Micah has always understood you. There were times when you were a kid where you felt... weird. Different. Like you did not belong in your skin, or your life. That you were supposed to be somewhere and someone different. Sometimes you still feel weird. You are weird. It is pretty much down to Micah that you learnt to be okay with that. He's the weirdest guy you know and he's your hero, so it's okay. Your mother was not around. Your father very obviously did not want to be around. Micah was four years older than you, and he looked out for you. He has always had your back. He has always loved you unconditionally. You are of the opinion that everyone needs someone like that in their life, and you're very glad that yours was around from day one. It was because of Micah that you went into the army. You were at a loss, a fresh drop out, living back at home with your disgruntled father and trying to find a new purpose in life. You would never have thought of service if it hadn't been for Micah, all clean cut and heroic and confident, coming home for a visit. He inspired you. You don't think joining the army was necessarily the best choice you've ever made, but ultimately you're glad you did. You're glad your brother lead you there. You're just glad you have a brother, and that your brother is Micah. You cannot put the true extent of your admiration into words, so that will have to do. 3. hadley She's a baby. She's not your baby, but sometimes it feels like she might as well be. The month she has been in the world is not enough time for you to have worked out how you feel. You see Gabe with her, looking at her like she is the only real thing in the universe, and you feel like you are missing out on something. Perhaps you would know that feeling if you had a child, but you don't. It's a strange situation. You don't want to step on any toes. You are... a stepfather? Almost? You feel like you need to keep a thin layer of distance between yourself and her. She already has two parents who love her very much and you should be just a little on the outside. Shouldn't you? It's not that you're uncomfortable. You love kids. You love babies. You think they're wonderful. You don't mind feeding her or holding her or changing her or even getting up in the middle of the night when she's crying and Gabe is so tired he can't move. She is too little to play, but you're eagerly anticipating the day when she starts to crawl, to walk, to speak, to laugh, and you start to see the person that she's going to become. You are so excited to meet her. She is perfect, and you want to love her so much that sometimes you can barely contain it. When you are alone with her, sometimes you talk to her in Spanish. Like how your mother spoke to you when you were very small. Just so that you have something that's yours, both of yours. Even if you're not really her dad, you do love her, and you think you kind of want to be. 4. yourself Is it vain to love yourself or is it empowering? You choose to believe the latter, although even you're willing to admit it's a little conceited to place yourself so highly on the list. You're not sure you care.Loving yourself is not supposed to be easy. That's what everybody says. But if you've ever had self-esteem issues, they were so long ago you barely remember them. It is something someone said to you once - though you can't remember who - that if you can go to sleep at night knowing you've done nothing to hurt anyone else, you're doing all right. Perhaps that's why you sleep like a log. You're a good person, and you think it's okay to admit that. You have your faults - obnoxious, overbearing, overdramatic, just to name a few - but you are a good person, and you have no reason to hate yourself. Of course, you're probably supposed to hate yourself because you're queer. Or hispanic. Or both. Probably both. That's how minorities work. You are something other than the straight white cultural norm and thus you're not as good... or something? You've never really subscribed to that. You think you're pretty damn fabulous. There were days where small, conservative people in your small, conservative high school in your small, conservative town made you feel like shit. There were days you got beat up, called words you won't repeat, and made to feel wrong. But they were just days in a whole fabulous lifetime, and you're over it. You accept yourself. You've had to, because not everyone else does. Whenever someone judges you, you take it in stride. You love yourself, and that's a-okay. 5. music Music is your greatest of inanimate loves. You discovered the piano when you were so small that you can't even remember the exact moment. You just seem to know that you've always played. You're self-taught. There was a piano in your living room, leftover from one of your father's past relationships you assume. There was also one book of basic tunes in the entire house. You taught yourself to play first by ear, and then by matching the sounds to the notes on the page. It took you a long time to get it, but once it had sunk in, you were off. For months and months and months you played the same song over and over, and then you repertoire exploded. It took you two weeks to master the book, and you could sit there for hours going through it again and again and again and again. You soundtracked your father's and brother's lives with slightly off-key nursery rhymes and ancient classical standards. When you discovered online sheet music, you felt like you'd been blessed. You devoured song after song; learning it, memorising it, filing it away. You got good. You were a natural. Perhaps even a prodigy. Or you might have been, if you came from the kind of family that had the means or time to encourage creative genius. By the time you hit your preteens, you had started to compose your own work. But only when no one else was in the house. Your compositions are the only things you have ever been shy about, although you're not a hundred percent sure why. They just feel private to you. To play them to someone else would be like having to read one's diary out loud. They are your thoughts, scored and set to a tune. You went to college briefly to study music education, but then dropped out. You did not get to play much while you were in the army, but now that you're out, you've picked up where you left off. You have a piano in the apartment, although you're not allowed near it when the baby's sleeping under pain of death. That's okay. You have made music your job, rather than just your hobby. Well, a side job. Most of the time you work as a receptionist in a friend's dance studio, which is nice and all, but your favourite thing to do is your freelance tutoring. You have maybe half a dozen students right now. Middle school kids, mostly. You teach them to play and it makes you happy. It makes you happy to see them light up the way that you used to when you first realised you could just press a few keys and make something beautiful. Sharing music brings you joy. It is something, you think, that everyone should love. 6. people Being with other people is one of your favourite things in the world. You are a typical extrovert. You need good company and conversations and lots of noise and socialisation to live. It recharges you. You've never been the kind of person to sit at home and relax by yourself. You get antsy if you have to spend too long alone.You're the kind of person who'll strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Strangers fascinate you. You like people watching. You like getting to know others. You like to have a good chat, and you like to hold hands, and to give or receive hugs. You like people. You love them. It's as simple as that. 7. travel You've seen a lot of the world. It is part of the joy of being in the army. Well, besides the camaraderie, it is the only joy of being in the army. You never found anything especially fulfilling or good about having a gun shoved in your hands and being told to hurt another human being.You did like seeing the world though. During your four years of service, you saw a multitude of places. You were stationed in over a dozen locales, both domestic and foreign. Of course, you have seen enough of dusty middle eastern battle fields to last a lifetime, but you would like to see more of the other things the world has to offer. One day, when you have the time and the money, when you and Gabe are more settled and Hadley is old enough to get something out of the experience, you want to travel. You want to bring your family with you and you want to see the world. All of it. As much as you can take in before you head explodes. You want to see all four corners of the globe and meet as many people as you can and drink in other cultures and just... live it. There is a big wide world out there, and you have always felt blessed to be apart of it. 8. You don't really know your mother. She is just a hypothetical to you. An illegal Cuban immigrant who somehow made it as far north as Missouri and then for some even more inexplicable reason decided to stop there and settle with your father of all people, she is a mystery. An enigma. She got deported when you were very small. You have only vague memories. Of her voice purring Cuban lullabies. Her hand around yours, her skin the same shade, a slightly darker hue. You think you can remember her crying when they pulled you from her arms and took her away.She is back in Cuba now. She writes you letters sometimes. Once a year, she sends you a picture of her new family. You have watched it grow over the years: you have a swarthy brooding stepfather and a small gaggle of much younger half-siblings. You used to study the pictures for resemblance. You have a little sister with the exact same eyes and the same huge chubby cheeks you eventually grew out of. A baby brother with the same unruly curls and slightly crooked teeth as you. In each picture, they're all growing... until they suddenly stop, and you are privately amused that you got the short gene from your mother's side of the family. Your mother, she writes you in Spanish. That's where you learned. Your vocabulary is superb. Your pronunciation? Abysmal. You have never had a native speaker to converse with, so you've never got the hang of it properly. You don't care. It's your mother tongue, and you will persist to cheerfully butcher it. You used to think about your mother a lot. As a child, you romanticised the idea of her. You thought everything would be so much better if she was around. At least until you grew up enough to realise that you were probably wrong, that a) her presence would not make your father give a shit about you, and that b) your life was not so bad that you needed her to come and fix it. You were happy enough, and you had Micah to look after you, and that was all you could ask for. You didn't need her. It just might have been nice to have her around. 9. will You don't love him anymore. That's what you tell yourself, even if you sometimes still think about him. You suppose that's kind of natural. He was your first everything.You met in college. He was "straight". That should have put you off, but you've never been smart when it comes to love. You were only allowed to hold his hand when it was dark and no one could see. You could only kiss him in your dorm room when your roommate was out. The first time you made love, he left without saying a word. When you were together in public, he punched you in the shoulder a lot and talked about football. Neither of you gave a shit about football. Soon he started to say he was busy when you asked if he'd come over. Soon he wouldn't hold your hand even when it was dark. Soon you missed him so much that you'd give anything to be punched in the shoulder and bored with clumsy sporting metaphors. One day you turned up outside his dorm and told him, last resort, that you were in love with him. His roommate laughed himself silly and he... he slammed the door in your face. Two days later when the shame started to ache less, you calmly took the sweatshirt he left you and burned it on the quad outside his dorm. When you saw him watching from the window, you flipped him off as melodramatically as you could manage under the ridiculous circumstances. You never saw him again after that, because you dropped out of college that weekend. You decided you were done with education. You were done with people (at least for a little while). Most of all, you were done with "straight" boys. He was such a waste of time that you wish you could just forget it, but you think a person's first love always has a little piece of their heart. 10. your father You do not love your father. You do not love your father. You are grateful that he gave you life, but that is all. That is the only reason he has a spot on your list. Your father spent your entire childhood ignoring you. He spent your adolescence bickering with you. He spent that short period of time after you dropped out of college and before you joined the army sending you sidelong glances as if wondering when the fuck you were going to get out of his house and stop clogging up his precious 'me time' with paternal responsibility. You are not bitter. You don't really care about him either way though, and maybe that's worse. You don't know. You don't really have much else to say about him.and 11. your life Because you don't want to end on a sour note, you will finish your list on this. Your life. You love your life. You are happy, here, now, like this. In New York City, living with a boy you're madly in love with and somehow, magically, a little girl that you will get to help raise. You're half not even sure how you got here, but that doesn't matter. You're happy. That's the important thing. That’s the most important thing in the world. |
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