Father Maricón.

The saddest part for me is that I just want a hug from my mom, and I don’t know if I’ll get one of those again, but I just want her to hug me and tell me everything is gonna be okay.

The good news: my blood flow is fine in my pelvis.

The bad news: my dick just doesn’t work.

Idk. I was afraid this would happen. I wish that the accident never happened. I wish this was all just a bad dream.

I understand that I can’t be the one getting in the way of community, by not letting others, but like idk. Protestant work ethic, am I right?

I am 28. I haven’t had sex in 4 years. 4 years. I was 24 the last time I had sex. I now am facing the potential of having to pay thousands of dollars out of my own pocket- because someone hit me with their car.

I shouldn’t have to pay money. This should’ve never happened in the first place.

How can I feel sexy when I can’t have sex. And like I enjoyed sleeping with men and women. And now what if I don’t shell out that money I’m gonna have to be a bottom? I won’t be able to do things?

And like after the surgery I’m gonna be what in my 30’s I wasted my youth worrying about being likeable. I’m not even a tease anymore. Cause there’s nothing to tease.

Idk. All I know is that I shouldn’t be crying at 9pm on a Monday night because I feel unsexy, broken, or less than. I

I’m afraid that it isn’t all worth it. I’m afraid that like there is no point in going through these motions.

Im angry at the man who changed my life forever. The man who left me to die at the scene. The man whose life is completely unaffected. He didn’t have to relearn how to walk. He didn’t have to have surgeries just so he was able to pee again. That man is probably capable of sexual activity.

Yet I’m sitting here in my apartment, not sure if my lights are gonna stay on, not sure how I’m getting to work the week after next, not sure if I’m gonna be able to keep my apartment past March.

I really don’t see the point of living. Like it’s just gonna keep getting worse. I’m not saying that I deserve anything- but a fucking break would be nice. Like he healed all those people back in the day, he found my childhood friends’ mom’s keys. But he won’t heal me. He won’t take my pain away. He won’t help me out of this situation I’m in.

I know I’m gonna die alone. I know one is ever going to love me. No one ever has-

And yeah I chose to be celibate, but that was my choice. I hate not having autonomy over my own body. I hate that my body is different now. I hate that I can’t do things and everybody is like it’ll happen you have to be patient. But I’ve been the one who is living this. I’m the one who had to lay there bleeding out for 45 minutes. I’m the one whose brain is telling them to end it. I’m the one who has to what sit and be patient?

I’m tired of having these dreams where I’m healed. Only to wake up and not be able to run, jump, cartwheel, or get hard- like I could do things and now I can’t.

God’s never shown me grace, or love. He’s ambivalent at best and at worst he hates queers and Mexicans.