the aftermath

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 broke me clean in two.

Because straight boy?

He has no idea.

No idea how stunning he is.

Inside, outside, all the way through.

If I could hand him my eyes for just a minute,

he’d never doubt himself again.

He’s light and laughter and all the things he thinks he’s missing.

I just hope he knows—

I’ll be there every time the darkness tries to tell him otherwise.

Every. Time. Always.

(Also, I’m violently hungover.

Never knew a body could eject this much fluid from so many places.)

Love that for me.

Anyway.

Time to go contemplate my life choices from the bathroom floor.

See you soon.