The biggest things have been the beating that I tood with a skateboard to the head for a measly 60 dollars. I initially said no to his demand for my cash which resulted in the first bash. Then as I grabbed for the money in my pocket, before he gathered the cash he hit me again, laughed, the six friends with him laughed when I started yelling, "where the fuck are my glasses???." - they had been knocked off my head. In a strange display of courteousness, one of the group of friends of his pointed them out. I did not cry there, nor did I pull the six inch blade I pocket for cases in which I fear getting hurt. I don't know whether to be happy or ashamed that I didn't pull out the knife or at least a dirty syringe to do some damage with. I figured the likely outcome would be a transfer of weapons into the hands of my assailant or one of his crew. You would be suprised how frightened people are of syringes. AIDS really has stricken society with both rational and irrational fear, though I know not which category pulling a syringe in defense or offense fits into. But, alas, I did nothing but cup my aching ear and head, and run for my car and drive away. Not until I got home, in such pain as is indescribable, did I remove my hand and notice all the blood that had covered the left side of my face. I did not want to go to the hospital, but Dexter called my parents and he and they wanted me to go, if only for the reason that I was hysterical, depressed, and bleeding uncontrollably. Once there, they gave me an IM shot of morphine, which did succed in easing some of the pain and calming me to the point that I needed not ball my eyes out in the embaressing display of childish pain that had encompassed me. I recieved five stiches, some local anaesthetic and a morphine shot. I also recieved an appointment to meet a doctor to find out if I I was healing normally. They informed me of my right to get reimbursment from the government for VOC (Victims of Crime) benefits. I could have gotten my medical bills paid for, but considering that I ahve health insurance, it didn't seem worth it. And also seeing that I didn't really know what the guy looked like too well, so I declined to make a police report. I should have.

I didn't sleep that night. I was scared. I didn't get home from the hospital until nearly 5 or 5.30am, and I couldn't sleep, the morphine had worn off. I went to my parents house the next day. They told me it was my fault. I put myself in dangerous situations. I could have used a credit card. I could have waited until the morning. I could have gone to a safer neighboorhood. But I chose to do the most convenient, though not the safest. And I paid the consequenses. They accused me of the situation being drug related. They told me I spend money irresponsibly. This, all, after a night of getting my head cracked open. I was suicidal. The next day, depressed though I was, Dexter and I decided we would go out and shoot film with my camera in the early afternoon. On the metro to where we were going to shoot, my parents called. They started the same bullshit, after I told them that I did not want to talk to them for a while. That I did not want them to call, did not want them to look at my bank statements. And thhey started saying the same things. I would have killed myself that night, had Dexter not made me promise to give hima month, and to try to change in that month. If things did not get better. then I would be grudginly allowed (for lack of a better word) to do myself in. I will likely apply for a handgun. I hear there is a waiting period of about a month. I want no attention for this. I am no martyr. But I was ready to die. I was sick of feeling like I am useless to the world. I add nothing to this world; I have no friends, aside from Dexter. My parents and the people I love tend to make me feel miserable a large percentage of the time. Dexter, even, could do better than me. In a long while, I am convinced he could be happier without me. My parents too. Something malignant exists in my family, and i am the cancer. My problems, my issues, my life, my mistakes, they cause everyone's misery, and as much as most think that I can just change, that it is all in my head, that it isn't true, they are lying to themselves. I am rarely a good force in anyone's existance.

I have lived three weeks since that week. So far, I have made some efforts. I am currently going to therapy four times a week. Twice with a very good psychologist. Once with my old psychiatrist in Berkeley who handles my meds: I am switching to Valium from Xanax because I need something I take on a regular schedule instead of as needed. So I take 5mg twice a day. We raised the dose on the anti-depressants as well. I see a doctor weekly, who i was recieving buprenorphine from, but I have decided that I need to be on methadone, and he is skirting the law prescribing for me, supposedly for my chronic pain from neuropathy in my foot, but it is really for opiate addiction. He can only prescribe up to the reasonably high dose of 100mg daily. I started last tuesday, and I am now on 80mg. I will likely switch to 100 tomorrow, when I see him again. But I am lucky to find out that the new psychiatrist that I am seeing, that I will switch to once my meds are stabilized, is one of around ten doctors nationwide that is part of a new government study called Office Based Opiate Treatment (OBOT - pronounced oh-boat). This involves the ability to prescribe methadone and buprenorphine from an office, instead of the only legal way of obtaining methadone from a clinic, where you pay each day and go with all the other junkies very day to the clinic to take it and get drug tested and all. If I prove with my current doc that I can do it, she will help me into this program, which provides the methadone free in a psychiatric setting, which I would prefer. And she is not limited in the dose she can prescribe, and I am expecting to need a dose of around 120-150mg to hold me and make me not crave illegal opiates. this is an exciting program that I was very lucky to stumble across. And even if I can't get into it, I will still have my doctor for a year or two till my neuropathy is completely healed.

Other news: I did not kill myself. I am trying to make changes, and the therapy and methadone and valium is a big step and a big help. I still have not completely committed myself to not dying. I am ready should I feel life isn't worth living, but I do discover things worth experiencing.

I dumped Dexter, though I decided I still wanted to be with him the next day. He knows how to say the cruelest things when he is upset, things he says he does not mean, and a basic tenet of a relationship with me is the requirement that you say what you mean and you mean what you say. And he really is cruel to me when he is angry, and he said it one time too many the othet night. He said he didn't care about me, that the only reason he stays with me is because I would kill myself if he left me. And I may kill myself, but it will not be because of him: it would only be because of ME. He said he did not mean that. But I had heard it one time too many and I told him I coudn't be with him. But I decided that, since I love him, I was willing to work towards change on both our parts so that we could be honestly happy and happily honest with each other. I need him to not say these things, no matter how upset he is. And I need him to change that. I am trying to make change in my life, and I need to show him that I can be the man he started dating: happy, willing, horny, scared, shy with a confident streak, and without medical problems being the focus of my life. I can be that kid again, and he needs that. So I will be that. I will not ignore the issues in my life, but i will attack them head ona dn I will not talk of them singularly, not talking of other things as well. I need to be a well rounded person, and I once was, and I would like to be again. It is so much healthier, happier, and easier to appreciate for Dexter if I can try to be a little more like that person that I was, the person that I want to be. I am trying.

Othere things this month, I tore a tendon in my crotch. I do not have sex often enough for my liking. I love my boyfriends cock, and he would hate that I write about it. He is small bodied, and his cock is large, so it makes it look even bigger. He can suck his own dick, and that turns me on so much, though it hurts him to do it, and he gets no pleasure out of it. I used ot be able to, but unfortunately, I have gotten bigger, less flexible, and fatter, not to mention the fact that I stopped gymnastics, so this is an impossibility. But seeing him do it makes me come. He has no problem with my arpit fetish, and he thinks I'm hot, something I have a hard time imagining, seeing me as attractive seems unlikely to me, but he honestly does, even as much as I think he is. He loves me. I love him. It's pretty fuckng weird that I got so lucky. I do think he could do better than me, but he claims I am the best. I am the best he's had, and he says I am the best he ever will have. His emotions make me think he is so hot, and then I see his body, and I swear to God that I think I could come without anyone touching me if I just sa him naked enough, maybe sucking himself for five minutes. I'd just spurt right away, no need to have anyone touch me, or get myself off. The lack of sex lately doesn't really bother me that much. I have beeen having a difficult time masturbating lately. I just can't seem to get off without him joining in. He means so much to me, to be alone just makes me feel depressed, making erections difficult to sustain. It shocks me that I used to be able to masturbate twice daily, sometimes more, and love it. Now I can't even do it monthly. Even when we are having sex weekly, or twice weekly or monthly, or whatever, it just doesn't compare to the real thing with Dexter. With previous boyfriends I masturbated anyway. I would jerk off, have sex daily, and be horny anyway. Now, I am only happy with Dexter. He makes me feel so great. He makes me feel like I'm in heaven, whether we're having sex or just watching a movie or walking down Folsom St. or taking a road trip to Seattle or going to Mary's, our local club/pub/bar. I love him to the bottom of my soul. I'm in heavan.

I've decided that I don't want to end my life right now. I was ready, and I still am, but I am finding new growth, new power, new life every day with Dexter, no matter how much our relationship flounders.l I love him and i know things are getting better. They will be worth living for. Suicide is not the ans2wer, not right now. My month has changed me. I have 6 days to decide.