In 1984, I didn’t kill the things I loved, I simply wore them out. I gorged myself on TV, music, food; anything that came along. Bright, coloured objects; plain, grey, casual clothes; and clinical, electronic music were the axis around which my body revolved, trying to find substitutes for love. Because love was everywhere, but just out of reach; in the records I listened to, on the radio, on TV, in magazines and books…everywhere. I wanted it, but I just couldn’t get love. From the trials I had done on my own I was certain that, with another person involved, its possibilities were inexhaustible. But I didn’t socialise, (outside college), and thoughts of specific girls, or love in general, always brought with them a whispering, jealous anxiety, for example: Once you’ve got your girl, what will you do with her? Where will you take her? How will you keep her entertained?

I did not act on love, until September. In the meantime, I paced about my family cell, listening to the same songs over and over again; hearing nothing beyond the stylus crunching into position on the record’s edge; the songs merging with my longing and the nights that always accompanied it…

Download: A Lemming Named Desire

Originally published in Girlboy (a Pulp Faction anthology edited by Elaine Palmer)