Mine is a story never to be told. It is not a tragedy rather a story of love. It is a love story painted with gold and silver which has been cast into the shadows of the Earth. What has been left was an erotic dream, willing to do anything just to make the past live once more. But I know it is a futile pursuit because every night, I enter into the gates of horror.
Every night, I’d enter a nightmare from which I’d wake up repeatedly only to find greater fear awaiting me. All the things I dreaded most, all the things I feared for others manifested in such a vivid detail. I couldn’t help but believe they existed. Each time I woke up, I thought that it was over. But I was wrong. It was only the beginning of a new chapter of torture.
I bit my tongue many times. And I always tasted the blood of my defeat. Intolerance was thrown at my body in the shape of daggers. Every time the blades penetrated my skin, no one would even shed a tear. My decisions and my whole being were already engraved on stone; these were not written on water. This built and made me the way I am.
I once faced the glare of those who disapproved of my existence. They came to me one night, with knives on one hand and a rolled fist on the other. Their faces glowed red with anger. They charged and stabbed me. I fell. I crawled. I begged. I cried. They left me, and I wondered why they had not killed me. Then I realized, they did this to give me a lesson.
My wounds and bruises from that fight were incurable. I wanted my voice to be spoken. I want my scream to break through the night. I want to scream unlike any other. I want my scream to become so intense that it can rip through the soul: a scream filled with love that can only come from the voice of acceptance.
This is my story. It is a story where every day is a battle. My world is full of struggles, pain, problems, and chaos. It is definitely not perfect. The only way for me to survive is to become brave enough to stand up against this battle. I may have been defeated in my previous fights but the war is not lost. My skin may have been tattooed with downfalls but I still have time to fill myself with energy to overpower my enemies.
I may still have nightmares and fears. But I am half a man. This is the drive that pushes me to propel and breathe above water. This is my edge and I hope that others like me out there will soon rise from their hibernation and break their silence.
– Juman Kevin Tindo