I have a heart that flings...

Hello.

I created this blog over a year ago, and I never posted.  I'm still not sure what I should post here now, but I do feel as though I need a project to keep my mind off things during the weekends while I'm working.  So that is what I'm going to do.  I think.  Just write.  Word vomit onto the page until things become a clear story.  I may post pictures here.  Especially since tomorrow I'm starting a project called 100 happy days, which calls on you to take a picture of something that made you happy every day for 100 days in a row.  I'm extremely excited about it.

I guess I should introduce myself.  My name is Kevin.  Sometimes it's spelled Kevyn for reasons that I think I've grown past.  Some people call me Poodle.  My mom calls me Poopie.  My boyfriend, Steven, can call me anything that he wants and it would sound like butter tastes.  Smooth, creamy, and delicious.

My boyfriend.

That's so weird to think about sometimes.  Especially now, since the relationship still has the shine of newness.  It's a perfect silver sphere at the moment, left undented by whatever the world will inevitably decide to throw at it.  I want to protect it.  I want to wrap myself around it and allow the world's pebbles to bounce off my spine as opposed to tarnishing this beautiful thing that I have been looking for for so long.  So very long.  So long that I fooled myself into thinking that I had found it more than once.

Once, I held a piece of aluminum foil.  It was the right color, and we were able to ball it into almost the right shape, but Kyle and I clung to it in desperation.  It was emotionless.  We went through the motions of love without the feeling.

Once, I held a sphere of jade.  It was not the right color.  We tried, I think, to change our own colors like chameleons to match.  Her name was Miranda, and there was love there, but not the right kind.  We were not chameleons.

Once, I held a sphere of ice.  It melted quickly under the heat of my hands.  His name was Devin.  I was too warm for him and the tighter I held him the more he flowed away.

Many, many times I held bullets.  Pellets from a BB gun.  Most were nameless.  Some had names like Mitch, Drew, Dwight, and Adam. They had the right color and the right shape; but they moved through me quickly, stung briefly, and then they were gone.

Many other times I held fire under my fingernails.  They burned red and blue and orange and gold.  Their names were Jared, Matt, Andy, Tipton, and Sam. The heat was intense and some left scars on my arms.  You can't hold fire without destroying yourself.

I have a heart that flings fire from fingernails.

But now--now I hold Steven.  My love for him is real, and pure, and strong; and his is the same for me.  I see my reflection in his surface, and he sees his in mine.  He is who I have been waiting for--been searching for--and I never want to let him go.  I hold my breath when he's near me.  I whisper my secrets in his ear.  I eat raspberries and chocolate from his lips.  He is the most beautiful being that I have ever encountered, and someday, if all goes to plan, his will be the ring that I wear around my finger.

This is the beginning of true happiness, and even in our dark moments we will light our houses and guide each other to shore.