Just a reminder…

Sex is wonderful.

Bodies are beautiful —  in every size, shape, shade, and configuration.

Orgasms feel great… but they also aren’t the only goal in sex, as long as it’s enjoyable for everyone involved!

Whatever or whoever turns you on — no matter how fucked up it might seem, no matter how bizarre or unusual or dirty or perverted you might believe it to be — I guarantee there are lots of other people around the world who are just as aroused by the exact same thing.

You don’t need to feel ashamed of who you are, what your body looks like, or for getting off to whatever you do.

With luck (and often lots of patience) you’ll find an opportunity to make it happen for you! No guarantees, of course, which kinda sucks (and not in any of the good ways…) but it’s more likely than you might think!

Everybody’s different when it comes to the infinite complexities of sexuality, but we have far more in common with each other than we have different between us — and that’s a marvelous thing.

AND! It’s just as valid, just as much totally okay, if you’re not a sexual creature! Plenty of humans don’t find themselves sexually attracted to anyone, don’t get turned on by stuff the way other folks do. That’s okay!

You are beautiful, you are okay, and I love you. ♥♥♥♥♥

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See you when the summer’s through…

I guess it’s September now. I hate, hate, hate these markers of the passage of time — reminders of how little has changed, how stagnant life still is, how dreadfully hopeless my prospects still are for finding anything stable, anything functional.

7 and a half months I’ve been homeless (this time around)
10 months I’ve been single.
13 months I’ve been trying to find a place to live (again, this last time around.)
10 different addresses I’ve had since I moved out of my parents’ place.
5 and a half years since I “left the nest.”
Too many sleepless nights, too many days I don’t eat enough food, too much stressing out and worrying about everything, and so little control over any of it…

Letters I’ve needed to write for years. Items that I ended up with that need to go back to their rightful owners. Money I still get hounded by debt collectors over, going on 4 years later.

33 years old, over halfway to 34, and all I see is day after day of uncertainty and fear and chaos.

“What do you see yourself doing one year from now? What about 5 years?  What about 10 years?”

I can’t see myself one year from now. I don’t have the capacity. I don’t have the framework to begin to conceptualize what a year ahead might look like, or even what a month ahead might be.  I can’t make plans because I can’t grind against the gears of this enormous machine that is rolling the opposite direction and always threatening to crush me underneath. And so rarely has something I’ve planned actually worked the way it was supposed to — the  trip to meet DE-B, or the one for my miserable birthday with Lime, or the one that didn’t even end up happening due to circumstances (and people) beyond either of our control when I thought I was going to visit Shine (whose name I don’t think I’ve mentioned here before) earlier this summer to celebrate Independence Day.  Things haven’t gone the way I’ve planned with simple things or big ones, and I have such limited power to accomplish things on my own, so little power to wield…

Where is my home? Where do I go? I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared. I keep posting my “looking for housing” craigslist ad, I keep checking out every single notification from PadMapper that comes in from my saved search (and there’s really not much) but there’s just nothing that I can possibly afford that’s also safe, that has any chance of lasting or being even remotely stable.

I don’t know what to do.

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