Corrosion

Corrosion

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You’re probably wondering why I brought you here, huh, little bro? Abandoned property, lots of old steel and iron girders. Looks pretty solid doesn’t it? Kind of like me. Now, see, the reason I brought you here is ‘cause I want to explain about some of the changes I’ve been goin’ through. Why I haven’t been studying so much, why I’ve been going to the gym, why I’ve been hanging out with new friends.

See, it’s all right here. And no, I’m not talking about me or my body. We’ll get to that later. Look behind me. Look above me. Look at these girders. What do you see?

Look closer, man, come on!

There! That’s it, right there! That’s what I’m talking about. Look at how that metal is peeling, curling, stripping. It’s losing its color, its shape, its cohesion. It’s corroded. Now, you see, little bro, corrosion happens when metal gets exposed to the elements for too long. Open air eventually leads to oxidation, which leads to the metal breaking down and flaking away, degrading until it finally snaps. It can take a long time, sometimes. And other times, it’s quick and easy. It all depends on the exposure, the stuff you throw at it, you follow me?

Well, bro, if you look carefully, you’ll see all those curls and shavings look an awful like like the furls we’ve got in our brains, y’know? Rain, sleet, hail, snow, wind, repeat. Everything bashes against these girders until they start to break down. And that’s what happened to me, bro.

My brain couldn’t take it anymore. I started to break down. Honors classes, grades, college, no electives, no room to breathe. Study, study, study all the fuckin’ time, bro.

Relax. No one’s here to hear it. It’s just us. But bro, that’s what was going on. That’s what was happening to me. I was tired of it. My brain was breaking down. My brain was corroded. And just like these girders here or the ones on a bridge, I needed a break and I needed a repair.

I looked up how they do it, you know, repair these things. I haven’t lost all my smarts yet, you know. I just ... put ‘em in other things. Anyway, first step is to cut off traffic flow. Anything that puts stress over the girders while they’re being repaired is a big no. So, that’s what I did. I shut down. I stopped trying to impress the honor society and my parents and whoever else was hanging my future over my head to bludgeon me. I needed to just let go, y’know?

Damn, did it feel good to let go.

Now, like I said, that’s just the first step. Shutting down won’t stop corrosion. It just lets you take a load off and prep for what’s to come. Don’t give me that look, bro. Listen. This is important. You’ve gotta listen to me.

Step two, bro. Now, this is how they wrote it, not me, okay? The bridges have gotta get jacked, bro. That’s the next step. Listen, bro! You promised me you’d listen. You follow me? Good. Listen. Step one. Step one is to let go. I had to let go and focus. Focus on me. No other voices. No other distractions. Couldn’t let the corrosion get worse, right? Now step two follows step one. I had to get jacked up, like the bridge, ya know?

I had to go to the gym to get jacked up. Step two. Jacking up. Step two. Pumping up. Step two. Lifting up. Step two. Listen up. I jacked up by working out. Working out to step three. ‘Cause step three is nearly the same. Step three is so much alike. Step three is cutting out the bad stuff. Cutting out the corrosion.

Step two: Pumping Up and Working Out.

Step three: Cutting out.

The corrosion has to go. First, I cut out junk food. Then I ran step two again. I pumped up. I worked out. Then Step three. I cut out academics. That’s right, bro. Cut it out.

And bro, it felt so fucking good to cut it out. I relaxed. I stopped caring about those stupid grades and professors. What mattered was me. What mattered was my structure, my integrity, my security. Being secure in my body, secure with step two and step three.

Working out. Pumping up. Cutting studying.

Working out. Pumping up. Cutting tutoring.

Working out. Pumping up. Cutting homework.

Bro, it felt so, fucking, GOOD!

I listened to my body. I let go of my stress. I jacked up my body by working out. I cut out the corrosion.

Step one....

Step two....

Step three....

Are you listening?

Good. Remember, you promised to listen.

You’re starting to get it now, bro, aren’t you?

I can tell.

Step four is easy. I was already doing it, and I didn’t even know it. Can you guess what it is, bro? Nah, I can see you can’t. Don’t worry, bro. I knew you were feelin’ the same. Mom n’Dad’ve been giving you the same treatment since I stood up to ‘em. I know. S’why I wanted to show you, to tell you, to make you understand.

And you understand I needed these steps.

And bro, don’t take this the wrong way. I think you need these steps, too.

I know, too much information. You feel like your head’s all fuzzy. That’s the corrosion I was talkin’ about. Just keep listening. Keep following me, following my voice.

Good little bro. You can get pumped while we talk. Go on. I don’t mind. Try it. Jack up, bro.

Step one....

Step two....

Step three....

Step four: Welding new steel in place.

Or in this case, new material for the brain, little bro. New information, like the stuff I’ve been telling you. Step one: shutdown. Step two: jacking up. Step three: Cutting out. Step four: Welding new stuff in.

And you know the best part, bro? I’d been welding the whole time. Look at me. Listen to me. The new stuff was working out. The new stuff was new exercises. The new stuff was new diets and routines.

And new friends.

So what if my new friends are jocks?

It’s a natural fit for a jacked up bod. A jacked up bod needs a jacked up jock and a jacked up jock needs a jacked up bod. It’s a natural fit for a bro like me, little bro. They’re my stiffeners, you know, the secondary support. They keep me straight. Straight in form. Rigid structure. We hold each other up, ya know?

They get me so pumped, so jacked up! I’m telling you, bro, I’m ready for another step four. This time, I’m going all the way with a new sport. Bros want me to play football. And I gotta say, I want to, too. I mean, the weld supports the beam, right? And the beam supports the weld. A stiff hard beam built to take heavy loads. A big buff team built to take heavy blows. I’m gonna join the football team, little bro, be with my new friends. It’s where I belong. I fit there.

What’s Step five?

Well, bro, once the weld is done and set, that’s kinda it. Step five is when they lower the span back onto the girder again. The load comes back. Only this time, you can bear it, because you’re stronger.

Stronger, like me.

I said no to Mom and Dad because I’d had enough. I still have to fight with them. Still have to tell them to back off and let me be the new me. But I’m strong because of these steps.

So what if I’m a jock bro? There’s nothing wrong with that. What matters is being happy and doing the weld right. Understand, little bro?

Huhuhuh. I thought you might say that. Sure, you can come with me to the gym next time. I’ll show you the ropes.

Let’s get you jacked up.

Boiling Alive

I’m not talking about an oil bath or some hot jacuzzi.

There’s no fire underneath me, no heating element to burn me.

And yet I’m boiling.

Boiling not from anger or from hate, but from shame.

I upset someone I hold dear. And I don’t know what I did wrong.

And that feeling has been burning inside me ever since. That is the source of my heat. That is my everlasting fire.

And I don’t know if I can put it out.

Because I don’t know how to start.

No stop, drop, and roll. No fire blanket. I may be able to try smothering it, but that’s just a temporary solution. Because it’s still there, and it’ll burn again the minute my thoughts turn the right way.

So many bubbles forming under my skin. They pop. They burst. And the fire burns hotter. And all I can do is wait.

Wait till you’re willing to talk to me.

Because I can’t figure this out alone.

And I fear it will destroy me without you.

Please, don’t keep me waiting.

I need you.

My firefighter.

I Don’t Want to Cry

I’ve hung up my phone.

The conversation is over. But I can’t stand what I’ve just heard.

People are waiting for me.

But I don’t want to face them. I don’t want to burden them. Not this time of year. Not when we’re supposed to be happy. I lay back on my bed with one thought burning consciously and subconsciously.

I don’t want to cry.

I can sit there. I can be a statue. I can freeze in the moment and never move again. Let me do this, please.

I don’t want to cry.

I can fiddle with my phone. Play a game. Check email. Do something.

I just don’t want to cry.

The words echo. The thoughts brew.

Can’t wait. Tired. No more.

...

Goodbye.

Don’t cry.

Am I a failure?

I don’t want to cry.

I breathe. I sit. I tear off my glasses and close my eyes.

No more desire. Just a rigid command.

Don’t cry.

Footsteps come from the hall outside. I don’t want to see anyone, but I can’t avoid it. I sit up. My glasses are back on again. My eyes are stinging. She enters. I can’t look at her, so I don’t.

Don’t. Cry.

Two arms wrap around me. All I see is the carpet beneath my feet.

Please ... don’t.

Words flow.

I don’t ... I can’t. I just ... can’t.

...

Damn it.

Molten lead boils out my chest, into my head, and out my eyes. Noxious gas spurts in betraying hiccups from my mouth. The dreaded sob, anathema to every proud man and woman on the planet. We don’t cry. We’re not supposed to cry. Crying is weakness. Crying is shame. Crying is-- Crying is.......

Crying is happening.

I don’t want to cry. But I can’t stop it. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for a lot of things. Because I don’t have the power to change my circumstances as they are. And I find myself questioning every word. Every thought. Every action I ever made. Even as those words draw each drop and spurt out of me.

I’m hot. I’m a molten mess. But still those arms hang on.

And slowly, the geyser cools. The eruption eases into a subtle series of aftershocks that gradually fade to silence.

Cracks form along my eyes as liquid dries and cools. A gentle wind blows the fumes away. And those words and actions that drew the tears out now sooth and cleanse.

They promise a better future. They promise mending. And they know.

They know, because they have lived. They have felt those tremors and survived.

I look up.

I still don’t want to cry. That hasn’t changed.

But my sister knows this well.

Love hurt me. And love will heal me. In time.

She made it through. Not once. Not twice. But three times before she found the one.

And she will help me when I’m ready to move on.

The pain still isn’t gone.

But it is at least a little less.

I still don’t want to cry. I still don’t like it.

But I did need it.

And there is no shame in that.

There is nature in it. Some pain. And most importantly, at the end, hope.

Shakespeare said it best. To be a man, I must feel like a man.

If God can cry, why can’t I?

I can.

And though I still don’t want to, I probably will a few times more before my life is done.

And that’s okay.

So long as I keep moving forward as best I can.

Then, maybe, if I’m lucky, that pile of slag will become something far more precious.

And I will be made new again, like the phoenix of myth.

Tears to cleanse. Tears to heal. And tears to be born again.

I don’t want to cry.

But I will to move forward. I will, to be born again.

And I will be.

It will just take time.

I am so tempted to do a sequel/fan story for this at some point. Great writing. While I don’t recommend the writer’s actual tumblr channel (porn content is against my religious beliefs, and I really don’t like watching it or seeing it regardless), this series is definitely incredible.

#malesockfetish #sockfetish #graysocks #malesockfetish #gaymale #gay #feet #foot #footfetish #nike #nikesocks #sockteen1 #sockteen2 #gayfeet #gaypride #gayman #gayguy #gayteen #malefootfetish #malesocks #whitesocks #anklesocks #blacksocks #underarmor #elitesocks #stinkyfeet #legday #sockporn #gayporn #sockfetish #footfetishnation #gayfootfetish

Okay guys this is kinda important. GQ just came in the mail and for the first time in a long while it had a really important article…

I just sat here for like the last half hour reading this and I’m incredibly appalled at our justice system in regards to the military. The article interviews about 23 men who have all been sexually assaulted in some branch of the military. The PTSD from sexual assault in the military is more prevalent than PTSD from combat…

If you have a chance I suggest reading this article…and the title is a quote that one of the victims Doctor told him…

Himplants

Running through Lift.exe now. Subject is reacting incredibly well to positive reinforcement. Dopamine levels are nominal. Triggering electronic impulses through the brain now. Strengthening cerebral synapses and reinforcing new neural pathways. Stimulating auditory nerves.

Subject appears to be reacting in time. He is reciting rhythmic instructions to maintain proper form. Initiating reward.

Subject has officially entered into a trance state.

Yes, Sir, the subject definitely does love the gym now. It’s quite the transformation from when he first started. We’ve also been able to mute the anxiety and focus on raising his confidence levels. As a result, he has chosen to wear more revealing clothing that is designed to complement his growing physique. The triggers are most definitely a success with this tester. There is some concern about a disconnect from his previous personality, however.

Well, yes, Sir, he did sign the waiver, but--

I see. Well, you are the boss, Sir. So far, the product is definitely a success. We’ll need to tweak it to avoid so dramatic a change, but I believe that once we do, we can help everyone to achieve their desires. We might even be able to help the mentally disabled using this.

I’m sorry, you’d ... like to see how far we can push the subject? To what end, Sir?

...

I ... suppose a certain amount of safeties would be necessary to research, assuming the subject does go that far. But do you really want to risk irreparably constructing those pathways? We can destroy them now, but if we build them too strongly, it will take far longer for the subject to recover from whatever we do to him. Do you really want that, Sir?

...

I see. Understood. We’ll ... monitor his progress for you, Sir. Did the company owner desire a record of his electronic impulses? We can translate them into live feed as the subject transitions.

Yes, Sir. I’ll get right on it, Sir.

Beginning purge of former unnecessary pathways. Queuing instructions to build new paths. Stimulating the necessary glands now.

And execute.

Time to be a bro, Zero.