[Let me make a nice, pretty post to anyone to happens to find this. THIS. IS. NOT. THE. REAL. BRANDON. BACKE.

Honestly, people, think this through. On this journal, !Brandon is in a homosexual relationship. I see that a lot of you are flipping the fuck out because oh noes! Sweet, cute little Brandon just CAN'T be gay!

Get over it. These journals--there have to be over 2,000 of them on livejournal alone--are part of different communities. You can find a Nick in one community and a Nick in another. I personally know of at least two Eric Chavezes.

People: This is called fake!world. Do you know why?

BECAUSE IT'S FAKE.

If that isn't enough of a disclaimer for y'all, I don't know what the fuck is.

I am not Brandon Backe, I don't know Brandon Backe, I have met him once and he was a very nice guy, signed my ball, WHATEVER. That's IT. So don't leave me comments telling me to have an excellent World Series. He did pretty good, the White Sox won, it's over. THIS IS FAKE.

If I seem bitchy, it's because I really don't understand how ANYONE thought this was real, but I do apologize. I've been fake!journaling for over a year now, I forgot there were normal vanilla people left in the world.]

OH MY GOD MY SWISHY HE'S HURT I'M GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING WALL WHO THE FUCK I'M GOING TO KILL SOMETHING OH MY GOD

I AM GOING TO OAKLAND SO FUCK YOU ALL

I've been sleeping a lot lately, because I made the remarkable and totally cool discovery that as soon as I fall asleep, just about every time, I dream about Nick.

So I spend most of the day sleeping.

Which means that now at 4:25 in the morning...guess who's awake with a headache from too much sleeping? Yes. It's Brandon.

So while I'm here I might as well fill out that survey thing.

( Survey )

Let's see if I can fall back asleep.

I miss Nick a lot.

Rest in peace, Trevor, wherever you are.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday, dear Brandon, happy birthday to me.

Sigh.

Completely done. There will never be anything between Pete and I ever again. Ever.

I had no clue--none--that I could ever hurt this much.

I miss Swish, sure, but I think that Taylor has taken the job of Dude Who Misses Nick Swisher The Most. You can quit crying now, TayTay, okay? He'll come back. I doubt he can leave your cute self alone. ;)

Chris has no clue what he's missing. I didn't either. But damn. Honestly? Taylor is the most adorable, cuddliest, sweetest, cutest dude I have ever seen in my life. I can't believe he went this long without having...without having anyone to cuddle and snuggle and love with.

Well, he found it in Swish, who holds the title of Dude Who Fucking Cuddles The Most In The History Of The World. So it's very cute, and sweet, and I think Taylor has a crush on him which is even sweeter.

So yes. Chris is dumb.

I'm off to make dinner. SWISHY CALL ME OMG.

Pete...you call me too? Please? I mean, if you're not busy or anything.

I think that Taylor will cry when Swish leaves, because that means he's going to lose his giant body pillow.

It's the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.

You know, when he broke it off with me, I thought I'd be devastated. But I really wasn't. I was a little hurt, because while he insists that he fucks me up or whatever, I don't fully believe that. But I think I might be a bit relieved. Because honestly, two people who are completely fucked up should not be together. He says he's going to get himself "fixed," so I did a little fixing of my own.

Talked to my mom all last night, through the eary morning, and into the afternoon. We were on the phone for nearly 18 hours--it died twice on us. I talked to her about everything. She seemed surprised, but she already knew that I was gay. She just didn't know anything about my relationship with Trevor, or all the trauma I had with my uncle. She knew none of that, and now she knows it, and we're closer than ever. I told her that I'm in love with Pete--and that I love him more and more each day. She told me to take it easy, for both of us to take it easy. I said I wasn't sure if there's an "us" anymore, or if there's ever going to be an "us" again. She told me to not think about it too much--I've got a season to worry about. So I think I'll just let things happen naturally. I won't push him for anything, or prod, or pry, but I'll simply be here and wait.

I think I can really wait forever.

So I'm going to go now and do some exercising. It's always made me feel better. If anyone needs to reach me, call the cell.

I love him.

Hey, Pete? If y'get bored, c'mon over and hang out with me, okay?

I kinda miss you, though I see you every day. :/ I mean. You know. You don't have to. I'm just. Well. Just if you want to. You always can, it's just me.

And ahhh, one of my most favorite poems ever:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.


I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.


I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this; where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Isn't that so beautiful? I love it. And here's another one that I like:

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things
Filled with my soul
You are like my soul
A butterfly of dream
And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still
And you seem far away
It sounds as though you are lamenting
A butterfly cooing like a dove
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not reach you
Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star
As remote and candid

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
Distant and full of sorrow
So you would've died
One word then, One smile is enough
And I'm happy;
Happy that it's not true

And one more, before I head to the couch and eat some gumbo:

You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with
his golden feet?
I reply, the ocean knows this.
You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent
bell? What is it waiting for?
I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.
You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?
Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know.
You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,
and I reply by describing
how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies.
You enquire about the kingfisher's feathers,
which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?
Or you've found in the cards a new question touching on
the crystal architecture
of the sea anemone, and you'll deal that to me now?
You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean
spines?
The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?
The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out
in the deep places like a thread in the water?

I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.

I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.

I walked around as you do, investigating
the endless star,
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.

I just noticed that I don't have very many friends on my journal. That makes me sad. :/ I need more friends. Anyone know any?

And Lord, I love Dumb and Dumber, I swear.

Oh, Swishy, I am so glad you're here. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so glad.

So glad.

So very glad.

*sighs*

don't you hate feeling stupid?

i do.

We really suck in training, don't we? Heh. This just means that we're gonna explode when the season comes along, huh? Yeah, I firmly believe this.

Y'all. I finally bought some Girl Scout cookies today. $3.50 a box! I bought like...15 boxes. Two are gone already. I am going to get fat, and I will sue the Girl Scouts of America for doing it. Lord. I can't quit eating those goddamn cookies. It's utterly ridiculous. I am going to quit right now.

Once I'm done with this box of Thin Mints. I swear it.

Um...not much on the Backe front here. Uh...well. We took our 2005 photos and I look retarded. As usual, heh.

I guess I'll go watch cartoons now. Later.

[EDIT]

Found my picture. It's on gettyimages.com, so it's got that GIANT copyright across it. But whatever, here you go. Here's me. Was I drinking weedcoffee when I took this? I don't remember. It looks like I was.



God. Now that is what we call--altogether now, kids--"someone who takes really bad photographs." I'm normally not that ugly.

...Right? *worried*

Khalil Greene has a very nice-sounding voice. /random.

I love spring training. I love baseball.

I love McDonald's. *smiles*

I'm going to go listen to music now.

[taking a break from fake!world for a while. give me a week or so.]

Oh my God. My ASS hurts. It hurts. A lot. My legs hurt. My arm hurts. I'm going to die.

I huuuuurt.

I hate spring training. But dear God, do I love it.

Christ, my ass hurts. :/

[EDIT]

i'm a really, really horrible and awful person, aren't i? i'm horrible. i'm terrible.

i want to sleep and not wake up.

god.

Oh, Nick. Nick, Nick.

I'll take care of you. I promise I will.

I know it's late, but I'll take you out for ice-cream, okay? I'll take care of you.

Pete? If you see this, come on over and hang out with us. You'll meet Nick. He's so nice. He's my best friend.

Pete, I can't thank you enough for the necklace.

I've never gotten a gift so wonderful before.

I'm so glad you're my friend. I can't even tell you. I'm so glad I have someone I can talk to.

I really, really am.