"uncorrected" in retrospect


How many times can I be wrong?

Only months ago, weeks even…perhaps days.  Hours? Lost in feelings for you so deep that I heard love songs in my head non-stop. You took my breath away. Etched your name across my heart. I drank in the very essence of you, greedy for it like a child craving sugar, your name a constant taste on my lips.

We reached out to each other like two neurons connected across land and sea. Far apart, yet I felt you with me always. Your face and form so palpable I could stretch my body against yours at night and fall asleep in your arms.

Always by my side. That was how we planned it. The silvery tendrils that bonded us rippled in the breeze, sweltered in the sun, endured rain and snow, but they never faltered. Even now as we wield sharp words and poison actions, they stand strong to spite us.

Our timing is off. The space I am in is horrible. Bad for you, me, and everyone else involved. It would be better to walk away now. Maybe remain friends and revisit this later if possible.

“If possible.”

The feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I use “if possible” in the context of you and me is a ball of emptiness. Dark and sorrowful, and utterly, completely alone. If you are not there, there is nothing else. I’ll stand on my own against the world if I have to, but never with anyone other than you.

I am not wrong. You are here for me as I was made for you. Whatever we do in this life, that will not change… even if we want it to.


I wrote the post above back in November  but never published it. The space I dwelled in at that time forced the words out through my fingertips, but would not allow me to hit the button to post it on my blog. It was written and forgotten. Probably for the best. Things have changed a great deal since then, and the person referenced in those pleading, lovelorn words would certainly have found a way to use them against me.

Moreover…the woman who wrote those words is gone.

I came across the post last week, on my 44th birthday actually, and did not recognize the writing as my own. Who was this woman proclaiming eternal love and in the same breath curling defensively against words dipped in venom and  hurled like knives from her lover’s lips?

I advanced to get a dagger in the gut. I advanced again to be sliced wide open. Once more for acid poured in the wound. And still, I returned, over and over again, seeking comfort in arms that could only show love when I was floundering and immobilized with fear or simply too damn broken to defend myself.

And then the aftermath. Bleeding out, and waiting for nothing , because there was nothing worth fighting for, really. Certainly  not my own self worth or sanity. My path was littered with broken glass from the start; I was never meant to advance very far anyway.

But something in the distance glimmered and held my attention. It sparkled with hope and promise, and made me lift my head a centimeter above the darkness. When I felt myself slipping again, it grabbed my forearm and pulled me awake, whispering in my ear “you are so much more than you can see.

next…The Voice


About Felix Jay

I am Felix Jay, and I am gay as hell. Unfortunately, embracing this reality came after a 23-year relationship with a man, which included 12 years of marriage, and two children. This blog follows my journey to live my truth for the first time in my life, without devastating my family and losing my sanity in the process. Fully honest...completely authentic...and finally Felix.
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