My first post.

 

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. The first time I spoke to him, he ended it by saying, “I feel like you only talk to me because you want money.” Seriously? Fuck him. I don’t care what happens to him anymore. It’s just been me and my mom—she’s the best, by the way. Love her to pieces. A few years later, my mom remarried, and I got two younger brothers. The youngest brother’s dad? He’s the one I called dad. Even though he wasn’t my biological dad, he was my dad in every other way. 

I remember his funeral like it was yesterday. He died in a train crash. I was crushed (bad joke?? idk), felt like it was my fault. But it wasn’t. It was the asshole who chose to get high on opioids and drive over the tracks at 4 a.m. But at his funeral? I’ve never felt more alone, even though I was surrounded by family. Have you ever felt that? It’s one of the worst feelings.

I went to therapy, and slowly, I got stronger. But when I hit my teen years, the struggle with my sexuality started. I came out in 7th grade (well, sort of—got outed, but that’s another story for another time). I never felt comfortable being myself, though. I lied. A lot. I thought I had to be the stereotypical, feminine gay guy to fit in. Some of it was true to who I was, but not all of it. I just wanted to fit in. I thought I had to act that way to be accepted. I see it now, and it seems crazy, but I get it. Who wouldn’t lie to be cool and accepted back then? It was the thing to do. To be accepted that is...

High school came, and I made some amazing friends. But I was done with that small, conservative town. I wanted to go to the city, to live my little gay fantasy. And I did. 

But that town? It felt like a personal episode of Pretty Little Liars. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It suffocated me, but at the same time, I learned a lot from it. And I met my best friend there, who I’m incredibly grateful for. She’s my platonic soulmate. Then, college applications rolled around. I sent mine in, and months later, I got the letter that said I was accepted. That moment felt like a breath of fresh air. I could finally start over. No one knew me. I could be anyone, or no one. It didn’t matter. I was finally leaving that place. And I did.

Then we jump to 2022. I’m living in my apartment, and I almost had an identity crisis, feeling so lonely in such a big city. I was excited to leave, but it was overwhelming. But then I found my new circle of friends, and that’s when the magic began.

There’s a lot more to my love life, but that’s a story for another time.

Now, I’m 23. I’m still in school, working toward my bachelor’s degree in 2028. One of my roommates is moving out, so I’ll need to find a place by May. The waitlists are long, but I’ll figure it out. Can’t wait to live alone again.

That’s my life—kind of short, but you get the idea.

I do not know what will become of this blog yet, but... 

Next time you see me, I’ll be speaking exclusively in metaphors. This blog is my villain origin story.

*In the background, outro music starts playing*: Gangster by Kehlani