Escape Artists -Oneshots:
A Gay Victoiran Affair (Eddie x Robert Stone.)
Dear Diary
I know ive tried to write in diaries before, when I was young, and failed. I could never mix them into my routines, or stop living to record my every thought and doubt and contents of my calendar. But the truth is I have always wanted to have a series of diaries to look back on, when I have faded to be nothing but the memories of the bais and the brutal. I think if I did it, ignoring convetion, or even propeper writing –as I am now, it could be quite cathartic, quite claming, grounding, to sort things out, make peace of things all tangled up in my head, weighing on my heart. To refelcect on those days, those recent days when I longed to escape, so much it burned and ate me up inside. I dont yurn so much anymore, I feel more at peace with the heres and nows, the me I am, the world —as it spins. But even so, I still dream, I still long for those victorian sensiblites, those dramatic, passionate intelligent, those painful longings that wont be written off, those aching confessions, friendships and loves so cllose they transcend everything arround them, they become their own language, their own little life, onto itself, just two people, a population of two in our own little planet, far off beyond the stars. I long for interesting people, for fun, for adventure, contexts to put my drab edges into to make them part of larger lovestories, artistic momvemnts and not just flaws against the whitebread scoreboard. I dont long for death, to be reborn in…a world thats full. But I still yurn, I yurn even in my growing moments of satfiacation and contentment with the current im rowing along, noyt shaky and sure of drawing, unhappy and unwilling, but calm, forcoused on the current and wind ahead, the best Ive ever been, the healthiest of mind, body and sprit. I row along thinking…This…is my life, ive made my choices, ive done my time, ive gotten plenty of blessings that my loved ones dont have, and I have apriaiciated, and made my best use of them, I know my limits, I know…not yet my full potential, as Ive been given seldom chances, and opunirties to prove my worth, but I have a girlfriend now, a lover –shes wonderful, havent I always longed for a lover, and now I have one, that I am finally reppaing the fruits of, after years of hard personal labor, I have always yurned for a love most faccisnating, something our moden world —seldem provides, a man, with…a dark past, emotional but true side impossible to taim, someone smart, kind, and feaircly independent, feiricly caring and loyal, who loves his friends and…shares his emotions, someone who…has been looking for a real love as long as I have, someone who will choose me out of all others and, risk it all to be with me…makes me feel like im alive, not just in book pages but in balconies, and bridges and jets streaking across twilight skies, he would make me feel like every day is a movie, one worth rewatching, one where sometimes the tears are happy tears and the party isnt cut shot becuase your mind cant handle it, he would protect me, stand up for me, heal and honor me with old codes of chivaery, and genetmnetly conduct, he…perhaphs is too good to be tye, I was born to late for such a romance.
I remeber all those days, when life felt like a movie, one that had a happy ending, had highs with cheers at the bar, extenstial hikes with that old friend you love, and never got to say so, those road trips to remember, graudtaing high school, surviving hell and looking for a home of your own, a home thats beautiful, that they cant take away from you, or burn down…a home where you live, your a part of the world, and cant just be expelled, a home in a community where people live and love and arent always spending all their waking hours at work, or inside their painfull vices,and memories, a home you live with a lover, and never get sick of eachother, only fall more in love as time blows along. When presents where things you didnt own, existing things you’ve always wanted, when you prevail over all your unique struggles and still achieve your dreams, both big and small…bit this time with help you didnt have before, where you discover who you are…who you have alawasy been, like lost troves of gold in unmarked lands.
But life isnt like we’ve been raised by movies, and books, there seldom are grand narratives, people hardly get truly happy, a true untained high, people seldom get what they want, and even rarer do they find themselves at home, in a place they remain truly, happy. A place they can call home. My life has been hell, its been full of seldom true moments, seldom events I was proud of, people that stuck arround, loves that…didnt hurt me, and dared to last, my life is devoid fo long worked towards victories, —its gotten better, my life is no longer hell, but its noyt even close to heaven, and who’s life is…but im sure in their youth, many other people have constructed wonderful lives for themeseves, I simply…havent been able to hit that sweet spot yet, of what little remains in my control.
I dont yurn to escape life at every call anymore, I recall as I write this in my dairy curled up in my beanbag, I recall the days when I spent all my time in my head, in other worlds, in phc wards. I guess you could say I was starved of substance. But despite its strict conventions, The victorian era has always called me, called me tehre, a certain version of it but…has made me weak inthe knees with exteimnt. Conversations about my longing for such a man, to time travel again to find him, have gone all kinds of ways with my people, Who understand, who laugh and who simply go along with my flow.
To whom it may concern, I have been living in Voctiran times for littkle over a week now thats why ibe been gone from both NYC and Suny new platz, time tavel has always been one of my greatest hobbies, as you know I have always found the past far more faccsinating and full of life then our coarsely, and uniquely lifeless modern age, Here I have fouhnd myself dispite yes the victorian eras many many downsides from a modern or…truly their own perspective, I was and still am…simply in awe, at so many aspects of their culture as it is in many ways —where we obtain our own, the bones of our moden slop if you will.
I could go on about the buildings and the grandness of the architecture, the oranate details of so many of the homes both in the city and countryside, is…nothing short of breathtaking, the buttreses and such things. The extremely region class and racial systesm here are…utterly facinating, each class has its own dresscode, and the members of the classes were unlike in our time, —- mostly everyone and the secret 1 percent elite and mayve some millionaires along the way, but evryo0ne is closer to being homeless then to being at the top or even inside of the explataive upper class, and everyone in the drab 21th cenetyry as you know dresses the same and dresses tacky, lazy and as if they had never heard of fashion, everything in our cenetry is so muddy, so full of confusion of who one must be, and where one fits —-there is hardly an issue with that kind of clarity here, Witch is im sure opressive for some of them, but rather conforying for me, —-
So I’’ve been assumed top be upper class due top my dress and vast knolwaege of things, its interesting as well —so many men of my presumed class —as well as no one knowing i was born a woman, though I intened to keep it that way, far ivbe taken a job at a gallery, run by a steward art col;lector named Hall, of the true owner, whos reputation f
