The Invisible Gay Boy Diaries

Hey there, Stranger.  Feels like it’s been forever. It’s strange—when I’m not writing, I feel… hollow. Like this diary isn’t just a space I stumble into, it’s the  only  place I can actually breathe. No armor, no performances. Just me, bleeding quietly onto the page. And somehow, that’s enough. Maybe more than enough. Anyway— I spent yesterday at straight boy’s place. Just a couple of drinks, just a couple of souls trying not to drown. And God, was it good. It’s rare, finding someone who just  gets it. Where you don’t have to explain the inside jokes or the heavy silences. Where you don’t have to translate your heart into smaller words. It’s just there, buzzing between you like a second electricity. We talked about everything and nothing. And somewhere along the way, we started dancing. No awkwardness, no second thoughts. Just two bodies moving like they already knew how. It felt timeless. It felt stupidly human. Later, he opened up about his insecurities— and it bro...

Hey there, Stranger.  I think I need to slow down before I burn out completely. I called in sick this weekend. Technically, I’m not sick. Unless you count a mind that’s been slipping through the cracks like sand. And maybe you should. I’m not sorry. I needed time to breathe—to do nothing, to  be  nothing. So I took a mental health weekend, and for once, I’m not carrying guilt around like a second skin. The plan is simple: games that don’t ask too much of me, a book ( Normal People , because irony is a love language), and long stretches and sketches of simply existing. Breathing like it matters. Because it does. I don’t know when it became controversial to take care of your brain, but here we are, pretending broken spirits can still clock into 9-to-5 shifts. They should make mental health days a national holiday. Put it in textbooks. Carve it in stone. I’d sign that petition in my sleep. Anyway—I’m rewatching  Awkward. Yes, that one—where teenagers are confused and ho...

Hey there, Stranger.  Something’s rotting inside me, and I don’t know when it started. Lately, it feels like I’m breathing through water, every emotion dragging me under. Not just today. It’s been building—quiet, patient, cruel. There’s this fury in me, small and endless, like a cigarette that never burns out, just smolders. The smallest spark sets me off. Maybe this is punishment. Maybe it’s just who I was always meant to become. I talk about hope like it’s easy to hold onto, but if I dropped the act, if I let the anger swallow me whole, what would happen then? Would anyone even notice the difference? And then there’s the hunger. It coils beneath my skin, always waiting. It’s not something I can explain without sounding broken. It flares when a song drags something bloody out of me, or when the stars look too far away to ever touch. It’s the kind of ache that feels like dying, and somehow, it still feels better than feeling nothing at all. It’s a reminder that the life I want is s...

Hey there, Stranger. Meeting up next Friday. It’s a strange thing—how the smallest kindness from a straight boy who cannot love me the way I crave still lights a fire beneath my skin. We are only friends. We have only ever been friends. Yet somehow, my heart forgets its place, blurring lines it has no right to cross. Perhaps it’s the way their attention feels different, like sunlight slipping through a crack in the door— something rare, something I was never meant to touch. Or maybe it’s loneliness, dressing itself up as hope. I never quite know how to wear myself in these moments. Should I bury the feeling deep, or let it flicker for a little while longer, just to remember what it feels like to be noticed? The truth is, I am looking forward to it. To the laughter, the easy conversations, the weightlessness that only true friendship can offer. There is no real desire tied to his name, no desperate love story waiting to unfold— only this soft, foolish hunger for something more. I hate h...

  Hey there, stranger. You’ve stumbled into something that was never meant to be found. A hidden space where I let my thoughts pour out, unfiltered and raw. This is where I document what no one else sees—the chaos, the quiet moments, the things that slip through the cracks. If you’re here, maybe it’s fate. Maybe you were meant to find this. Or maybe you just got lucky. Either way, welcome. Welcome to my world, where invisibility is my truth, and honesty is my only defense. So… where do I even begin? I guess I should catch you up. A lot has happened. But I’ll keep it short.  I moved around a lot when I was younger. Eventually, I settled in a city I spent most of my childhood and teenage years in. Looking back, I don’t know if I’m happy about it. Maybe I would’ve been better off staying where I was born, who knows? All I know is that I’ve always felt different. I don’t know my dad. He left before I was born. I’ve talked to him a few times, but honestly, I don’t care to know him....