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The many guises of Wigs and Sunglasses, aka J.T. LeRoy
Author: [livejournal.com profile] sharon_hate
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: These are fictional events.

"You maintain this distance that I’ve only ever witnessed in books about fairytales and street hustlers and young boys that land somewhere in between." (Patrick/Peter)

It’s recently become a fascination of mine to watch you plummet – to watch you spiral further and further, letting the details of your crisis pile until it reaches its pinnacle and taking no comfort in the vague, empty resolutions that follow.

I’m not a sadist. Really, I’m not.

I’ve known you for many years, yet you maintain this distance that I’ve only ever witnessed in books about fairytales and street hustlers and young boys that land somewhere in between. A personality that moves and constantly shifts, working far past the viewer’s comprehension, like a deeply interwoven plot. The Great Hoax.

You’re this amazing character that’s so far away and so painfully familiar at the same time. The kind that makes me pull away and take deep breaths because you’re just so overwhelming that I’m afraid I’ll suffocate from it all. Adapting to the worst possible scenarios and I watch with reckless abandon, wondering which persona you’ll adopt next – which character you’ll become now.

A fantasy in motion and I often forget that you’re genuine. Whether or not my lapse of knowledge on how real you are is a conscious one is much disputed.

I feel less guilty this way, with you being so far away – a tragic protagonist in a novella about sex and drugs and other clichéd things like that (constantly changing and growing), but I also must face how pathetic it would be, to lust after a fictional character.

Then there are times when you’re suddenly so real (so real) and so close that it hurts and I burn with shame that I could ever doubt the flesh and bone that’s touching mine right now. The stars that stick to your skin are gone along with the blush that conquers tanned cheek bones, replaced with sweat and a flush that works just as well.

“Patrick,” you state, close to my ear, and you’re naked (so real).
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J. Gomez

May 2009


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