BoyKitsch™ returns home with a whole new vibe! Relive his magically delicious adventures in the queer universe. Inspire yourself with passages from books, pictures of the sky, and notes of self-reflection. Subscribe to this page and leave thoughtful comments.
The birds floated between a short row of buildings in downtown Orlando. They glided along the hot wind blowing down Summerlin Street. I stood on the stoop outside a way station, holding both arms out to greet the beautiful city. Hope filled my lungs to the brim with a satisfying sort of nostalgia. I sighed deeply before walking to Lake Eola Park.
The birds flew into a purple sunset. The pine trees shook needles on my head. The lake reflected a city once torn apart by the power of a black hole. My heart exploded. I ripped the soft fabric of reality in half, hoping to find the end of this story. Instead, reality showed me the power of self-resurgence.
“I am free,” I told myself. The water’s edge bubbled at my feet. Several swans squawked together on the grassy shore. I used to live amongst these nasty creatures. Their fluffy white bodies filled my notebooks both in the literary and visually artistic form. Back then they enchanted me.
Then the black hole happened. The universe swallowed a realm of passions that lived inside my body. Every feeling about art and my self-esteem swirled in a vortex that led to an alternate universe. I found a new place to call home.
The new world existed behind a bright veil of pink light. My camera didn’t quite capture the peaceful sensation that people feel here in the other Orlando. I wanted to show you that everything turned out okay.
Except now you wouldn’t like me. You wouldn’t understand this version of optimism. You didn’t know how to think like an artist. You said, “the act of creation belongs to a higher power.” You rejected that power somewhere in your mid-twenties when everything was supposed to come together.
Nothing came together. Nothing fell apart. You created nothing so you got nothing. You became a different type of inspiration that some people call “boring. They wrote me letters for a period of time about all the indifference you made in the universe. They thought you died.
I knew you didn’t when the sound of a heart collapsing echoed throughout the sky. Your star grew dimmer before something shot through the galaxy. I thought to chase you but instead came here to think.
Several swans laid across the shimmering water. I collected my thoughts before heading back to the waystation. You and I are not finished. There are more adventures to be had in this reality and the next.
I entered the station feeling refreshed. The train waited for me to board before setting off into the universe. I head back over the rainbow where maybe you still exist. Maybe there we could be friends.