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…

i had my housing meeting this morning about my apartment.
another chapter in this long running saga since october.
it has been stress and anxiety since then.
i woke up early,
sat across from the board,
along with my landlord across from me.
after over 15 years in the same walls,
the verdict landed with perfect holiday timing…

i did something yesterday that is still sitting with me.
for the life of me,
i don’t know WHY i did it but it happened…

you ever peeped those people who were doing nothing and looked like they were going nowhere?
they were stagnant and literally spent their days on the couch or playing video games.
suddenly,
a shift happened,
and that “stagnant” life is in the rear view mirror.

i think some people end up thriving after being stagnant tbh.
i was always taught that if i wasn’t doing something,
if i wasn’t moving like everyone else,
that i was a failure at life.
i see it with a lot of people tbh.

if they aren’t on,
they feel off.

…but i’ve learned a lesson time and time again,
especially right now in my life…

for a while,
i thought i was asexual.
not that there is nothing wrong with being asexual,
but in the gay/bi/and tri forests,
fucking randomly and recklessly is almost everyone’s calling card.
the thing is…

i didn’t think i was all the way asexual.

meaning: i love sex and i’m highly attracted to other males,
but i don’t really like hook ups even though i have done them.
i only had one hook up that was amazing but he made is extremely comfortable.

i’m not fuckin in the middle of a sex party
not even getting smashed by some random at the gym
there will be no sex in the champagne room

i’ve had my ho-ish moments in the past,
and tbh a lot of it was trying to be like star fox (RIP),
so i’m not some virgin but i do get turned on by:

the chase
the anticipation
the mental and emotional stimulation
the tension
the teasing
the eye contact
the “we shouldn’t be doing this but i want to do this”

my fantasies run very hot.
i like connections; not proximity.
this is why sex apps never worked for me like others.
so i’ve come to accept…

there are some us who truly thrive in persecution.

i’m one of those people.
some of you are my people too.

we are underestimated heavy and gotta plop our big dicks on the table.
they see quiet or even insecurities,
but when someone is trying to fuck us because they THINK they have the big pipe…

even if we are on the role of the bottom,
we FUCK BACK.

it starts off slow but then we gotta fuck them back hard for them to get the message.

you gotta fuck them back so hard,
they tell their friends how far you shoved your dick in em.
so when i’m faced with nonsense,
i don’t do the obvious by barking back.
i go quiet; fox quiet.
the kind of quiet where i’m perched and paying attention.
it’s my way of choosing the right path before i react,
along with gathering alliances too.
from the last time i posted,
it’s been a big ol cocktail of…