I was going to attempt not to be emotional, but who am I kidding? Coming up on a year since moving back to Denver and there are ~so many~ feelings. The last few years I was in chi were my lowest. I was a shell of myself. No need to wax poetic about it or get into dirty details, but I thought I was doing my best and am now in a position where I’m looking back at that time period in the rearview as a state of being so unrecognizable from where I am today. This is a position I honestly didn’t know I’d ever experience and I am so grateful. I’m doing my damndest to live every minute with intention and making choices to ensure that continues to be true.
A year back home. 7 months without alcohol. In love with someone who treats a relationship like a total and equal collaboration in every sense. Learning to ~actually~ care for/about myself as opposed to going through the motions to seem like it without actually believing I was worthy of my own love and dedication. My panic attacks are nearly nonexistent these days.
Every day isn’t easy, the world is a nightmare, and I still feel like I have so much more room to grow—I don’t have any magical eat pray love insight, but I’m just trying really fucking hard and for the first time in my life I can feel the effects of my effort. Anyway, here I am. Thank you to everyone here now and thank you to everyone ~still~ here. There’s no way I could be here without you.
Feeling like the luckiest boy to have brought in this next rotation surrounded by light, belly laughs, and the most radical love.
//You don’t erase what came before.
You don’t rip the old pages out.
You sit with them,
trace the ink with gentle hands,
and somehow the scars stop looking like evidence I’m a mistake
and start looking like foreshadowing.
Like proof the story was always leading here;
to the moment I could finally exhale,
to turn a page without flinching.//
“Thank you” isn’t big enough to everyone that’s here with me right now—but thank you so fucking much
Just two soft boys. 🤍 (Okay, maybe one soft boy and one prickly boy. Depends who you ask.) 🔪 Catch the latest episode of @kameronshowpod , featuring @rydersblock —out now on Spotify and Apple! 🎧
TOMORROW: We’re almost at the end of the season, and I couldn’t think of a better penultimate guest than my longtime friend, @rydersblock . Ryder and I go way back—like, middle school back. In this episode, we look at how two queer kids from religious upbringings grew into fully-formed (and still-evolving) adults. We talk first crushes, faith and fallout, and the power of finding each other again after Ryder moved to Chicago. Do not miss. 🤍
A year ago today I brought Porkchop Bartholomew home after rescuing him from the middle of the street a few weeks prior. He couldn’t be rereleased bc he was a baby who fell from his nest and didn’t even know how to eat on his own yet. What was initially supposed to be just a foster situation (lol oops) turned into a year of getting to know the silliest and sassiest little guy who I’m so thrilled will never have to know what it’s like to be cold or hungry:)
I keep a tiny vase on my bookshelf where I put whiskers whenever I find them around the apartment
we used to make wishes on fallen eyelashes—
blown from a fingertip
lately I’ve been keeping moments that feel like whiskers in that tiny pocket of my jeans—you know the one
I plan to let it burst at the seams; to carry the found light with me everywhere I run—
we can chase light but can’t wish hard enough for the joy we have to create ourselves
whiskers aren’t eyelashes
