The name's Xander. Not Alexander, not Exander, just Xander. I'm 22, and live in Parkersburg, West Virginia. It's a small town, with few people, and even fewer interests to keep one person entertained by themselves than most would care to like.
I'm gay. It's a part of who I am, but not all of who I am. I am gay, Gay isn't me. Just because I like men doesn't mean I'm any different than any other person out there. We all share interests and disinterests, we have similiar and opposite tastes. But the bottom line is that we all share the same sky, so none of us are really all that different from each other.
I like to think of myself as somewhat artistic. Be it via writing, drawing, thinking, photography, or any other form of artsy media; I'm usually interested in it, and in doing it.
There was a period in my life that I spent several months painting completely abstract and confusing pictures. I was never the kind of artist who would purposely buy supplies, rather I would simply use what supplies I had at hand. Sometimes I'd have blue trees with silver grass. Sometimes the picture would be almost completely black, with some hints of something more.
Unfortunately, when I had a severe breakdown, I went through this phase of destroying anything and everything that made me feel less perfect than I wanted to be. My paintings got burned, and I have none left.
I lived in New York for a while, working as a model, before having a rather bad overdose and was forced to come back home.
I was accepted into the Pittsburgh Institute of Art, full scholarship, but I declined it as I was in China at the time.
I've traveled most of the world, and to do it, I used all of my college fund that had been saved for me. But there's something you learn out there than you can't learn in any books, or through any lectures. Life.
It's real. It's terrible. And there are people dying and praying and crying and stealing and killing and hurting and looking the other way at every possible bad thing they see.. And nobody really seems to care.
But it's life. We all know about the wars, the histories, the pain the world's gone through. We think it doesn't matter much to us, since it's not about us.
But if we're not helping anything out there, how can we be expected to get any help when we need it?
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