Regrets
by Youkaiko
---------
I'm tired...
Tired of writing yaoi.
I became an author at a fanfiction site, and tried my hand at writing yaoi fanfiction. I had moderate success. In comparison to my real job, it doesn't seem like much. But I had fun with it.
Had.
Now I read the other authors work and feel as if they cannot write. But they are merely children, trying to flex their creative muscle. I understand, somewhat.
I've stopped writing yaoi completely. I'm tired of writing about it. I confess, I want to live as the young boys I write about, such passion for life and love and happiness. Rather, I wish that things worked out differently. Here I am, almost thirty years old and already having a slight mid-life crisis.
My wife doesn't know what I write. I'm glad. She would be alarmed. Then again, she may slap me. Miyako has an uneven temperament. She's been a wonderful spouse, though, and an equally wonderful mother. I really don't know why I married her. Sometimes I think it was a mistake. Another mistake in my otherwise fruitful life.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to come home and slide into someone else's arms. Miyako doesn't do that very much, unless I look unhealthy. Sometimes I just ignore her. Our love life is like that... we do it every so often and don't care much for it anymore.
I write about it, instead. Except I write about young anime boys who prefer to copulate amongst themselves. Disgusting, yes, but there were times I wanted to do such a thing.
Perhaps this is why I am tired, of other things as well. I love my job. I love my children. I don't love my wife as much as I thought. If only I could start over again. But that is why I write, to try to start over again. Their characters... my characters... are allowed to be with the one person they love. Yet I will not let myself do the same.
Everyone has halves of themself. It's the untolerable voice in my head telling me what I should have done in my youth. Because there he was, a wonderful young man, loving and caring. On his arm he carried the girl of the month. That was what I could not stand, that collection of loose girls he dated. So toward the end of college, I went out with Miyako. She had become a good friend. I know she wanted more, and so did I. At least, that is what I thought I wanted. I wanted more, but with another person.
Perhaps all this time all I wanted was Daisuke. But I can't have him.
It's idiotic of me to go on like the teenagers I read about, becoming angsty and fickle. Part of me says that I am not fickle, I am merely unhappy. Should I ask for a divorce? No, that is stupid idea. I won't tolerate infidelity, even from myself. Yet my own thoughts are impure. I am guilty of being very unhappy in my marrage. What more is there for me to do? I'm too old to be chasing former crushes.
"Anyway, I thought about the things I settled for or never tried..."
I must have left the CD player on in the bedroom.
"so I don't blame you if you never come to see me here again..."
Regrets...
"regrets..."
Fin
Author's note: I wrote this as a sort of "What if Ken were a ff.net writer?" kind of thing. It was also out of frustration, because at the time hardly anyone read Jailbait. That is still the case, but now I think that the point of Jailbait was completely missed. (Oh well.) However, when Chibi Tuxie narrated, the story began to write itself, as most of my others do. Broom Lady just scoffed, but then put the CD player on Ben Folds Five's "Regrets".
by Youkaiko
---------
I'm tired...
Tired of writing yaoi.
I became an author at a fanfiction site, and tried my hand at writing yaoi fanfiction. I had moderate success. In comparison to my real job, it doesn't seem like much. But I had fun with it.
Had.
Now I read the other authors work and feel as if they cannot write. But they are merely children, trying to flex their creative muscle. I understand, somewhat.
I've stopped writing yaoi completely. I'm tired of writing about it. I confess, I want to live as the young boys I write about, such passion for life and love and happiness. Rather, I wish that things worked out differently. Here I am, almost thirty years old and already having a slight mid-life crisis.
My wife doesn't know what I write. I'm glad. She would be alarmed. Then again, she may slap me. Miyako has an uneven temperament. She's been a wonderful spouse, though, and an equally wonderful mother. I really don't know why I married her. Sometimes I think it was a mistake. Another mistake in my otherwise fruitful life.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to come home and slide into someone else's arms. Miyako doesn't do that very much, unless I look unhealthy. Sometimes I just ignore her. Our love life is like that... we do it every so often and don't care much for it anymore.
I write about it, instead. Except I write about young anime boys who prefer to copulate amongst themselves. Disgusting, yes, but there were times I wanted to do such a thing.
Perhaps this is why I am tired, of other things as well. I love my job. I love my children. I don't love my wife as much as I thought. If only I could start over again. But that is why I write, to try to start over again. Their characters... my characters... are allowed to be with the one person they love. Yet I will not let myself do the same.
Everyone has halves of themself. It's the untolerable voice in my head telling me what I should have done in my youth. Because there he was, a wonderful young man, loving and caring. On his arm he carried the girl of the month. That was what I could not stand, that collection of loose girls he dated. So toward the end of college, I went out with Miyako. She had become a good friend. I know she wanted more, and so did I. At least, that is what I thought I wanted. I wanted more, but with another person.
Perhaps all this time all I wanted was Daisuke. But I can't have him.
It's idiotic of me to go on like the teenagers I read about, becoming angsty and fickle. Part of me says that I am not fickle, I am merely unhappy. Should I ask for a divorce? No, that is stupid idea. I won't tolerate infidelity, even from myself. Yet my own thoughts are impure. I am guilty of being very unhappy in my marrage. What more is there for me to do? I'm too old to be chasing former crushes.
"Anyway, I thought about the things I settled for or never tried..."
I must have left the CD player on in the bedroom.
"so I don't blame you if you never come to see me here again..."
Regrets...
"regrets..."
Fin
Author's note: I wrote this as a sort of "What if Ken were a ff.net writer?" kind of thing. It was also out of frustration, because at the time hardly anyone read Jailbait. That is still the case, but now I think that the point of Jailbait was completely missed. (Oh well.) However, when Chibi Tuxie narrated, the story began to write itself, as most of my others do. Broom Lady just scoffed, but then put the CD player on Ben Folds Five's "Regrets".
