At the Quai de Valmy you took a picture of me then you turned west and took a picture of a lonely tree July 25. a bottle of rosé. you and me. days sipped away beneath the Leo sun rain at the Tuileries heat at Bercy walking side by side, you rested your head on mine somewhere between Concorde and Bastille our only afternoon happened in borrowed rooms knowing what I know now, I still would’ve. rue du Trésor. third floor. gold leaking through feeble curtains. outside, Paris murmured. the fountains kept singing, little did we know they were singing us out. at 1:18 I saw it L O V E in red. this, I thought, is how movies end. you said you kept the cork from that rosé as I wiped away the tears that had slipped down your face. I asked you to stay. you said you couldn’t. if I’d known then what I know now, you could’ve. so I cursed your name. and back to haunt me, six times, you came. un. you came back to Paris and told no one but me. three times that equinox I crossed the river to lose you. three times the river gave you back. you never saw me. I saw everything. I have called that being haunted ever since. deux. twice on Christmas Eve the ocean brought you in. once from a distance. once close enough to bury your face against my neck. the tide remembered us. you didn’t. trois. April. Paris was shut. nothing moved that month except a notification. almost two years since the picture of the tree. quatre. early January. I dreamt of you. I told my kin. I rang a Bell. three days later there you were. I kept that one to myself. cinq. April again. I knocked on your door and asked what those days beneath the Leo sun had been to you. you stepped back into the spindle you’d been spinning all along. if I’d known then what I know now, I shouldn’t have. six. six fortnights later you came back one last time. again, only in a dream. when I woke, I walked back to the Quai de Valmy and set fire to the picture of the lonely tree. it was still facing west.

No no there’s this really fun and cool thing about living alone where you’ll be sitting there and it’s like “wow I haven’t spoken to anyone out loud in 3 days” so you think “huh, I’ll go to the shops and then I’ll at least speak to the people at checkout. That’s something right?” But oh wait…everything is self check out now, still haven’t said a word out loud except the couple of times you swore under your breath or when you called yourself an idiot when you dropped something yesterday. You stand trying to decide if you should ring somebody up and just say a couple of things to them just to make sure you’re still at least CAPABLE of talking but can’t decide who, you briefly smile at a stranger that walks past and then just go back inside.

This is encouragement to myself and to you. Be your true color, tune into your station frequency. It’s hard as men not to want to become what you admire in others, or conform to status quo in order to access community. If all the blues and reds go into hiding to be green, our world will grow less vibrant. Be yourself so others that are like you can recognize you. And in that courage it helps others feel safe to be themself too.

“- I thought I was over him… but I love him. - Big deal. So you fell in love with someone. - But I really miss him. - So miss him! Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it. You're just afraid to let go of the last bits of him because then you'll be really alone, and you're scared to death of what will happen if you're really alone. But here's what you gotta understand: If you clear out all that space in your mind that you're using right now to obsess about this guy, you'll have a vacuum there, an open spot - a doorway. And guess what the universe will do with the doorway? It will rush in. God will rush in, and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using that boy to block that door. Let it go."

I almost bought an $80 journal. I didn’t know it was $80. The girl who made the journal was doing a pop up at the stationary store I frequent. I wanted to show my support so I’m like “yeah girl, I’ll buy your little journal 💅🏽” I ask her if I can buy it at the register after I’ve looked around and they were persistent I pay right there which was fine or whatever but like I don’t even know if I want it all that bad, you know? She rings me up, I’m chatting or whatever. Mind you!!! My first question was how much do they cost, which she acknowledges but doesn’t answer. So I’m like yall think I’m joking. So she rings me up, $78.something change. I said audibly and validly “GOD DAYUM!!” Looked that little white girl up and down and said “look mama I can’t afford you” and walked in the opposite direction.

THE LIAR IS ME I lived a lie for most of my life A lie so lived-in I could no longer distinguish I from the lie. And if you asked me then, I would not have seen. I could not. I did not want to be a liar, but a liar I was— Even to me. The lie was first, the story I told myself. I told myself I could be two. One for the world one kept from view. The me I thought of as me Was not the me I had hidden, The me I had forbidden— that was the real me. But now, the veil was torn, And the me from the shadows was pulled into the light. Then I realised, the me I thought of as me Had always been a puppet of the me I refused to see. And the light I now stood in was not the black and white that sustained the lie, But a kaleidoscope of colour and life. Because everything before Had been calculated, categorised: Right and wrong Saint and sinner Divine and demonic But now, I see. The me I tried to cast out, The me I tried to pray away Was always the me I wanted to be.

Armor, Amor There was a season I built without wanting to build, moved through days like a soldier who forgot the war was over, stacking small victories with hands that didn’t care if they were mine. I didn’t want to be alive. And still, I was unstoppable. Funny, the things you can carry when you’ve stopped asking why you’re carrying them. Armor. Amor. Maybe not the same root, no shared blood in the dictionary, but try loving anyone without first setting the shield down. Try surviving anything without first picking it up. Paulo said the universe conspires to help you get what you want. El universo conspira para que realices tu deseo. Nobody says what happens when you want nothing, when the wanting itself goes quiet, and you still show up, still build, still finish the thing. Maybe that’s its own kind of conspiracy. Maybe the universe doesn’t wait for desire. Maybe it just waits for you to move, armor on, heart still somewhere underneath it, beating on principle. But when the will comes back, when I want to be here again, when aliveness isn’t a chore but a current, that’s when the armor finally comes down. That’s when I stop surviving the wanting and start becoming it. And when you want something, all the universe conspires to help you achieve it. I believe that now. Not because I always wanted to live. But because even when I didn’t, something in me kept building anyway, and called it nothing, and it was everything.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

When someone asks me what are qualities you expect or makes you interested in someone The first thing I say is being "passionate" not just about love or your relationship but about your own self like your dreams ,I want a kind of partner who would prioritize our relationship but first prioritize his dreams and goals first ,I am like a stranger to those dreams they had always been there ,I consider your dreams your first love so always be passionate about them ,even tho your dreams takes up most of your time I would understand as long as we have that honest communication between us .that's all I need because seeing your dreams soar high would be part of my wishes too

He never considered me his bf and yet I kept loving him and caring for him and sending him money I hardly get to see him in person and hardly have a good conversation everyday just a simple hi hello and Hru texts that’s all and also but hes in the hookup culture and that’s how we met just and just today after asking to be his bf he said no and that he hardly knows me like that and doesn’t want a bf and since then I have been like left him on delivered and didn’t replied back but I really want him and he’s my second person I have ever now fall in love after my ex ….etc

I will never understand the concept of cheating , yes we are allowed to be attracted to other people besides our partners that’s our biology are programmed but the way you control that feeling define your commitment to your relationship . I might feel attracted to to you when seeing for the first or second time but my attraction towards my partner is on a whole different level, before you decide to be in a relationship you already decided to commit to this person and not just go around have multiple flings and even tho with time they say the spark fades why not try to love every version of that person as time passes ??? , don’t be in a relationship when you know you are not ready to commit or trying using them to fill a gap What do you think ?

Love the feeling or love the action For me, love in action would always be my first choice. I want a relationship where my partner would be willing to take my hand and dance with me in the midst of a hundred or even a thousand people who object to our love. Where I would laugh at their jokes in public, even when they aren’t funny, simply because seeing them happy makes me happy. I want us to create a safe place for each other, where we can pour out our troubles and somehow turn them into sunshine. Where he would join me in the rain, singing along to every Olivia Dean song. Where getting ready becomes their favorite fashion show, and whenever we’re out, we hold hands, jump around, walk side by side, and enjoy the simplest moments together. I want us to notice when something feels off with each other without having to be told. To look at them and ask, “Are you really okay?” when we know they’re going through a difficult time. To be patient with each other, to choose each other, and to love every version of each other. I want to learn how to love someone the way they want to be seen and understood. I want someone who would listen to me talk about my day and somehow make it their favorite part of each day. That’s love to me. Love in action. The kind of love where you don’t just say you love someone—you learn them, notice them, understand them, choose them, and show them every day. That’s how you should learn to love someone.

Invisible Helpers I did not walk into this world empty-handed, did not arrive unaccompanied, did not stumble onto this earth with nothing behind me but silence. Look closer. Look again. Behind me stands my grandmother’s hands, still folding dough, still folding time, still teaching me that patience is its own kind of power. Behind me stands the friend who stayed when staying cost him something, who loved me before I knew how to love myself, and left that lesson here when he left everything else. Behind me stand the ones long buried, who are not gone, only rearranged, who whisper through the things they taught me, who show up in my hands, my voice, my spine. I am the sum of every kindness that refused to disappear. I am not one man standing on this stage I am a chorus. I am a hundred hands at my back, a hundred voices under mine, saying rise, saying go on, saying you were never meant to do this by yourself. So when I speak, they speak. When I stand, they stand. When I am afraid, I remember I was not born alone into this world, and I was never meant to leave it that way either. I carry them. They carry me.

Finally! Social media for queer people Have you been yearning for a social media platform that’s fully owned and operated by queer people, and designed for queer people? Your search stops here. Collective is fully owned and operated by a small team of queer individuals passionate about using technology to bring people closer together. It's designed from the ground up to help LGBTQ+ people build deeper connections — from friendships to dating, and everything in between. What Motivates Us Despite being more visible than ever, queer people are increasingly isolated, lonely, and fragmented, being twice as likely to suffer from severe loneliness and social isolation than our cis straight peers. Apps like Grindr, Instagram, and X claim to connect the LGBTQ+ community, but their exclusionary practices and lack of safety measures do more harm than good. Collective’s mission is to make it easier for queer folks to find connection, belonging, and love. It’s a LGBTQ+-powered super-app uniting a global community of artistic collaborators, travel buddies, chosen family members, lifelong friends, and much, much more. How We’re Different Collective was designed to be a much healthier alternative to existing social media apps. Profiles showcase interests rather than likes or follower counts, which encourages folks to connect over shared hobbies and niche obsessions. We’re an online community where members feel comfortable sharing unfiltered selfies, small-fish or big-fish grievances, work-in-progress art pieces, and so much more.

Do you need some words of affirmation? You exist, nobody can deny you your right to. Only you get to decide who and what you are and your outward appearance doesn’t define you. You have it in you to change. If you don’t like something about yourself, don’t beat yourself up about it; you have that in common with 100% of us. Nothing about you is set in stone. You can redefine yourself whenever and as often as you want and f*ck anyone who dares to define you. You are beautiful and you are enough. Now look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself I love you. And mean it.

The heatwave in London is tough. But my garden is ALIVE. Decisions I made years ago are paying off now. Reseeding my lawn with clay loving British native wild grasses and flowers mean my grass is green and little flowers bloom amongst it. My horsemint and verbena borders are blooming and swarming with at least a dozen types of flies (some gorgeous iridescent ones, some wasp looking giant badass), mint moths, tiny silver bees. I have seen a couple of hummingbird hawk moths too, such a privilege. Concentrating on Mediterranean and Australian herbs and shrubs in pots, means I hardly need to use any water to maintain a lush varied environment, one that is crawling with a huge variety of invertebrates. And there is a young fox sleeping in the corner as I write this. It’s been here with me all day, yawning and moving as little as possible. I relate. I feel blessed and grateful to be custodian of this little patch of the Earth. I’m doing what I can and hope it’s enough.

How easily have we gotten used to passing people by? We learned to demand the perfect, afraid of the truth. We get lost behind perfect specifications and ideal images. But loneliness is not cured by more swipes. Real intimacy requires the risk of giving space. It requires the bravery of standing in the face of a gaze. Without filters, without tactics, without the exit door open. Essential people are not on lists of requirements. They are found where there is an intention for true sharing.

I don’t think about you everyday anymore. But every time I do I think about all the good, the laughter, that time we walked around all over the city one summer shopping about for our apartment. We made that small space into a home. Where we called out to each other whenever we arrived. “Gary, I’m home” something silly we picked up from a commercial. Sometimes I think about the nights we made dinners at home together. Opening a bottle of wine we both enjoyed before and during dinner. Listening to music, both old and new. When we first met I didn’t know what to expect but I knew I was gonna choose you. Everything I did was for you. Still to this day I know, I still love you.

Without Your Rhythm I’ve tried every shape a day can take alone, then crowded with friends, then family, then quiet again, circling back to the same unsteady beat. No one gives you your rhythm. But dancing with someone you chose completely, and losing that dance, guts you all the same. Fault or no fault, it guts you the same. They say feeling is vast, endless, but I doubt I’ll touch even a fraction of it this time. I just miss you. Call it mawkish. Call it too much. I’ll love you anyway, quietly, while you keep your distance like a punishment I’m still serving. That’s alright. The dance isn’t over. My head says otherwise, but my heart won’t hear it. My heart still wants to fall asleep beside you and wake up the same way, to cook the dinner, to wait by the door, to make plans just to cancel them because staying in with you was always the better plan. I want that back. And tonight, for the first time, I don’t know how to carry the wanting.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​