Oscar Raymundo, Writers' Retreat Fellow

Oscar Raymundo, Writers' Retreat Fellow



as Tony mentioned I'm a nonfiction track but tonight I've decided to read fiction this is from Congress and college town it's called the pride riots self pride of my dalliances one of the chapters written in the first person it's an excerpt for that you really want to know what happened that night well if you want to know the truth I guess the truth is that I raped him no no that could be be sinister lurking in the shadows threatening him with a knife grabbing him by the throat pushing him onto the bed ripping off his jeans and raping him technically I guess I might as well have done that but that's not the whole story the whole story said I cared about him the truth is that I loved I never thought it could be possible to love someone so much I'm not what I've done and I deserve everything that's coming to me I deserve to get expelled so if you brought me here deep growth into your office to try to get a confession out of me I confess I did it you're right I reported sitting on your desk it's a hundred percent fact everything you said is true you know my friends used to give me because I originally enrolled into this Gender Studies class just like cute guys but just it was different I was completely caught off guard I guess you could say I became obsessed I became obsessed with the way that he walked into a room like he knew what he was going when I felt so out of place they became obsessed with the way that he talked he had something to say when everything about me rings silent he looked he looked at me like I matter like I was worthy and I never felt that way before and deep down I know some part of him somewhere underneath his cashmere sweaters and his pastel full of shirts and it's clever words and a secretive looks underneath all his fear he felt it too maybe I drank way too much that night maybe I shouldn't have invited him up to my dorm room maybe he said no stop waiting want to get so close to someone closer than just rubbing their skin when you want to feel someone feel something the hair the lips the teeth the tongue words can start to lose all their meaning back home I'm the boy who always says no back home I'm the boy who always looks but never leaves I guess that night I said yes yes yes one too many times like running down a flight of stairs with eyes wide shut and now I can't walk around my own dorm room without feeling filthy and I can't look into a mirror without seeing this beast inside my own body and I can't take any of it back I can't go back so I know I understand that it's best that I go but if you ever see him again could you please tell him I just wanted to know that I'm sorry for all of it returning writers retreat fellow in fiction

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