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feeling deep sadness and deep anger for my country. I have been losing sleep all week and filled with anxiety. there is so much beauty, community, and love here that is being continuously smothered and overshadowed by selfish and violent men. - my silent comfort is reminding myself of the continual resilience and joy of queerness. queer expression is freedom, play, and support during anger, fear, and violence. I hope for more hopeful moments ahead.
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petition to make every cast of US drag race 90% aged 30+
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I love that my mom has more gay friends then me 🙃
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Shout out to anyone having to going about their day while high-key anxious about the current state of the world. I’m naturally hopeful but even I’ll agree it’s BLEAK at the moment on multiple levels 😬
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Well I got good news
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Just watched the first episode of Industry S4. And yeah… this season is about to be one for the books. I can feel it. 🔥
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Being a photographer costs so much 😭
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suddenly, it became dark and cloudy inside my head.
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I don’t think I can deny it anymore… I think I want to be held as if I’m a kid. I know, embarrassing but still.
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To trust or not to trust people is a choice, and I choose not to trust
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I already went on at least 3 dates and no sparks were lit up.
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Started Heated Rivalry. Ep1 felt like fan fiction for some serious hockey drama… and I’m completely hooked. Fair play Canada.
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Collective makes me wanna get a hairless cat
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Why is being monogamous the exception for gay men nowadays!!?
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In my Desmond Voyage era
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And sometimes I put “ELI6”because I’m not a dumbass
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Let’s see if 2026 will provide aforementioned spit roast
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every time I grow my hair out I want to cut it off and every time I cut it off I want to grow it back out
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I want a boyfriend who takes spontaneous pictures of me without asking 🙇🏽
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This app is interesting. New here from NYC looking for friends
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Any song recommendations? Open to anything 😇
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Oh my god! Why is all the food I’m eating going to my ass ?! I need it to distribute evenly ! Lord!
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Screw you, Plato. You call my art an imitation? Tell me, would Socrates call your body an imitation? Would he call the little performances you put on while touching his bare skin an imitation? Is that why you felt so bold naming me what you did? and if my art is imitation, then why does everyone want it? Why does no one beg for my mind, my numbers, my soul? Why does no one ask for the machinery behind my ribs, the architecture of my thoughts, the mathematics of my longing? You want the body, not the truth. You want the heat, not the history. You want the moan, not the meaning. And the moment I dare to moan no, the moment I dare to step out of the script, I become nothing. Not even a tragedy worth watching. Not even a dance worth learning. Not even a story worth stealing. Stripped of every illusion of desire. I become the thing you step over on your way out. The thing you forget existed. The thing that held the weight of your performance but never earned a bow.
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It’s 00:23 and my seventh week in hospital. I can’t sleep and don’t know where or how to share how I feel. So maybe here. I miss my identity. I haven’t been in my home or in my clothes for weeks. I haven’t had my coffee from my favourite place or that cheeky pastry on a Friday. The antibiotics have changed how I smell, I’ve not been able to be to the barbers and I’ve lost 12kg. I don’t look like me. Being unable to sleep due to noise, feeling ill and them not knowing what the cause is, well it’s changing who I am. Even as someone who has seen dark days before, I always seem to find a flicker of joy or hope. But now I’m just homesick for a life that I loved. So there we go. I needed to say it somewhere.
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I hate wanting someone. It feels like something is clawing around inside my ribs, and all I want to do is spit the truth straight at them, tell them I don’t want to screw this up, don’t want to twist myself into the wrong shape, don’t want to be read as too much or not enough. It’s this violent urge to tear open my chest just so they can see the mess for what it is. And the worst part is knowing they’d just stare at me like I’m feral for even feeling this hard.
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who else is reading heated rivalry?
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You confused me, my love, mixed me up with your other whores, didn’t you? You tangled our stories because my writing looks like theirs, sounds like theirs, bleeds like theirs. One of your whores, am I? Stunning, my love. Why don’t we make it official and start a little writing club? Call it the lovely man and his heavenly whores. We’d write hymns about you! your beauty, the twitch of your tongue when you say one of our names wrong, the way your hair jerks like it’s been touched by a ghost when one of us feels too much like another. We’d describe you the way Nietzsche described truth: a prostitute, despised and worshipped in the same breath, dragged through language until you shine. Darling, can’t you see it? Can’t you see what you’re doing to your muses? To us? To the whores you keep summoning with every careless flick of your charm?
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The first voice was the heart, remember? That trembling little martyr whispering, use me, ruin me, I’ll pretend it’s love if you pretend to care. Now comes the second voice, the body’s voice, rawer, hungrier, stripped of metaphor, offering itself up with the same doomed devotion but without the poetry to cushion the fall. Same machinery, different angle. Same altar, different sacrifice. Together they sketch the whole delirious circuitry we pretend not to worship, desire looping into power, power looping into need, need looping into that soft, parasitic prostitution we all practice in the dark. Don’t look away, you know exactly what I mean. It’s in you too, that little engine of ache and transaction, that gorgeous ugliness we dress up as romance or rebellion or “just being human.” You can feel it humming under your ribs right now, can’t you? That secret economy of wanting and being wanted, of offering and being taken, of giving yourself away just to see who bothers to pick you up. Don’t lie to me, I’m talking about us.
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Perfume is not just a scent. It is a complex of elements that can take you beyond time, awakening memories, emotions, and sensations. It can make you feel safe, joyful, and deeply connected to yourself. It can strengthen your confidence and shift your inner state. So before you say ‘it’s just a perfume,’ remember the invisible journey it creates within you.🌟
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640 Reminder that life is based on your actions and inactions, so maybe take those actions you have been thinking about..
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I have zero trust for people who dislike mangoes.
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That growl in Beyoncé’s voice in Ring the Alarm. Mother.
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Mad funny how Justin Bieber is the same age as me. We bullied the absolute shit out of that music in high school. Public school in a shit ass town laughing at a fkn 15 year old millionaire hahahahaha
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I love fangirls and furries and nerds and conventions and fan fic authors and the internet.
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Diría mi mamá, “¿así o más claro?”
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I love the idea of a cozy movie night, but I actually don’t really like watching movies… that’s the struggle 🫠🥸
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641 Long day…and my routine is now a mess… need to get back to it. And maybe stick to it more strictly for a bit
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Someone once asked me why do I identify as nonbinary. All I could say was, “I’d rather not use any pronouns, because you are assuming and prejudging me rather than getting to know me”
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I can’t afford it anyway but damn…the orange iPhone 17 Pro Max is HIDEOUS, especially this big camera island taking up like a third of the phone’s back
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Let me hear yall love story
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Can’t believe I wasn’t born into wealth. Fucked up.
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Kinda sad I won't be in LA anymore because of my clients and friends I've made here. But kinda relived I won't have a 4 hour commute anymore
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Lust for life, not a sin, not a shame, but the pulse that drags me back from the abyss. Plato, forgive me. I will not exile desire to shadows. Augustine, forgive me. I will not call the body a prison. Schopenhauer, forgive me. I will not curse the will that burns in me. I have failed you all, because I chose the fever over the silence, the hunger over the hollow calm. I lust, therefore I live. I ache, therefore I endure. I want, therefore I am. And if this is weakness, then let me be weak forever, for in weakness I find the only strength that keeps me alive.
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Question for bottoms, why are you so anti vers? Like you do realize a guy that can bottom makes for a better top right?
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I feel a little boomer using this app, I’m so lost 🥹
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Why are the best naps always on public transport
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Cried watching “heated rivalry” and still do watching tiktoks about it
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To all my readers out there! Any book recs? Fiction or non fiction! Looking for something to read after LESS
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In São Paulo and Rio in Feb (6–16). @bendavidwhite and I would love any recommendations for great coffee, art, and things we shouldn’t miss. And if anyone’s around to say hi, we’d love that too ❤️‍🔥
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651 Went and got myself a new scarf, my first ever one, reasonably happy with the purchase…
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Donde están las twunks? Afaf
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Discussions on Collective

Browse conversations and discussions from our community of 140,000+ gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer members. See what LGBTQ+ people are talking about, share your thoughts, and join the conversation. Collective is the gay friends app where you can connect with like-minded people, discover local queer events, find travel buddies, join interest groups, and more. Download the app to join for free.

The private community app for LGBTQ+ friends, networking, events and more.
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