i think i finally learned how to pray and have faith correctly.
it was always:

“God, I need this to happen.”
“God, I hope he wants to be with me.”
“God, Ima need that lottery win STAT.”

it came from a place of lack.
2025 was the year of the pivot for me.
so many things happened that i didn’t see coming.
and because of that,
i had to rearrange my life to suit the sudden changes.

as you know,
or maybe didn’t,
i didn’t think i’d be losing my home.

so for the last day of 2025,
i spent it with myself.
i chose myself because i’d have to learn to chose myself.
i made another decision that i’m not going to ask or beg God for what i need anymore…

i woke up with this on my spirit today.
something urged me to font because someone needed to read it.
maybe it was for me; maybe it’s for you.
this was the download:

“you don’t know”

because tbh…

grief.
i’ve noticed a lot of males don’t sit in their grief.
we were taught to be men!
we don’t feel sad or emotions!
we bottle them up until we explode or make us sick!

we do everything possible to distract ourselves from “feeling”.
one way i see gay males dealing with our grief:

FUCKIN’.

straight males like to act like they are above us,
but its the same shit with them in a different costume.
outside of fuckin’,
it could be other ways like:

buying shit to show we are happy
becoming a gym junkie
being mixxy out in the forests
the “drinkin’ and the druggin'”

…and other numbers of ways,
but i had to wonder…

musical chairs is a simple game.
you line up a few chairs,
always one less than the number of players.
music plays,
everyone moves,
pretending there’s still room,
but the point of the game isn’t to win.
it’s to make sure someone loses.
when the music stops,
someone is always left standing.

from the time all of you joined me in The Foxhole,
it was probably from some sticky situation i found myself in.

a work wolf,
a job loss,
a murder of my best friend,
a letting go of people who couldn’t come with me.

…that or you googled something and landed here.
either way,
i am very transparent about my sticky situations.

the latest sticky situation is losing my home.

this didn’t start this year; it actually started last year…

The Foxhole knows when i’m going through something,
my spirit picks an album for me to process.

i was never a broadway kind of fox.
that was karaoke’s thing.
she is a full blown theater vixen,
who has found her way into acting in plays.
well,
i’m here to font you….

a hermit crab knows when its shell has stopped being a home.

it leaving its shell is often a sign of a stressful event or poor living conditions. the walls that once protected start to press in, the space that once felt safe becomes too small, too loud, and too heavy. so it does the unthinkable: it steps out. alone, exposed, unsure… but certain that staying cramped is worse than facing open water.

so the process of moving succcccccckkkkkkkkkkks.
the beginning phase of:

keep
donate
trash

…is so tiring.
although i discovered a few things about myself…