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iconic vines 😂😂 @kayla.armentaa @shitideas

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Locker room ASS 👅

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KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK Rafa melhor pessoa #RafaelUccman #LucasLucco #Noticiou 😂

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The boy I love’s got another girl He might be fucking her right now I don’t have an apartment Thought if I was smart I’d make it far But I’m still at the start Guess I’m contagious it’d be safest if you ran Fuck that’s what they all just end up doing in the end Take my car and paint it black Take my arm, break it in half Say something, do it soon It’s too quiet in this room I need noise I need the buzz of a sub Need the crack of a whip Need some blood in the cut I need noise I need the buzz of a sub Need the crack of a whip Need some blood in the cut I need blood in the cut… K.Flay Fotos: @street.life.heroes #photography #gayboy #gayman #dudetattoo #tattoo #blood #inthe #cut #kflay #gay #man #tatuaje #streetstyle

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babymorocco (coming soon, link in bio) 🍦🍦🍦🍦

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Finally done it 😁

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Created by the heavens shot by @tochihannah

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Arse

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🐳

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💧 #tgif

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Wednesday ✅👊🏻

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Fake- ass all-natural-type bitch 🌱

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Rock Lobster 🔱🌊 #clovelly #summer #rocklobster

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💦💦

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Momma Burds Eye View by @triskit #villakotisch

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Good morning 🌹@lukaustinphotosthe3rd #instagay #regram

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Monday's ain't so bad mate 🐠

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👀

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Every now and then I take Rihanna’s advice and shine bright like a diamond. I was conditioned early on to be fearful of being my most talented, expressive, intelligent, humorous self, because it often invited negative attention from others who wanted to prove I wasn’t “all that” even though I didn’t care one way or another. So, I just kept it to myself.

But, now that I have released myself from the commitment to adhere to the behavioral patterns I developed over the years, that do not serve me, I shine when I want to shine. And that’s that. The more I spend time doing the things I want to do for myself, the more I feel I shine and with very little to no effort (socially, that is).

And then last night happened… I was at a social gathering a friend of mine was hosting and I really felt alive. Everyone spoke English, so I was able to shine in ways that I haven’t been able to in a long time. My wit and sass came out of hibernation to hold court for the willing. And I loved it. I felt as though I was connecting with everyone and since I have been practicing consciousness and mindfulness, I often feel almost no insecurity. I did my best to do the things that I appreciate; help the host, start conversation, make people laugh, provide a playlist, and most importantly, make sure everyone feels included.

The universe had a bit of a surprise for me, though. At the end of the night, we left a party and I expressed that I wished I had gone to another party because I think it would have been more fun and more suitable to my taste as an adult who wants to do more than move back and forth to loud music in a public place. This seemed to offend a member of the group, who responded with, “if you didn’t like being here so much, why were you touching my dick all night?”

First. Context.

The group is mostly Gay American Collegiate Males. The youngest being 21 years of age…. I am 30 years old.

Back to the story.

I was very surprised when this young man fixed his mouth to say this to me, because I literally had not even shaken this man’s hand. As a matter of fact, I think I was close to this man for a total of maybe 5 minutes over the course of 5 or 6 hours. As a matter of fact, I think he crossed my mind maybe 3 times over the night. I don’t mean this in a rude way, but it’s just fact. So, when he opened his mouth to make such a strong, public accusation, I was in shock. As you can imagine.

I was in such shock, that I began to defend myself, something I don’t usually do, because…. I don’t have to. But, I couldn’t believe it. As I did so, his friends laughed at me, one tried to pick a fight with me, telling me I should leave.

I should leave?

Nigga… for what? Because you’re white socialized American friend just falsely accused me of sexually harassing him? I should leave? Literally no one so much as asked a question, batted an eye. Everyone just adjusted their brains to auto pilot and continued on. It felt surreal. I couldn’t believe it was happening and that it was unfolding so quickly.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, years ago, this would have deterred me from social interactions. I would think, “I don’t want to try anymore, because I don’t want anything like this to happen again. I don’t want to hurt in this way again, so I will protect myself.” It’s true, I do not want this situation to happen again. But, I will not go into hiding. I was being my best self that night. Considerate, funny, caring. I will not stop because my honesty inspired negativity in this child. I refuse to let someone else shape my image of myself. This man’s accusation has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. I know who I am, I literally ask a man for permission to kiss him. I actually did it earlier that night with a man, with whom I was enjoying time at the party. I asked. He said, “not yet”. So, I waited.

It feels a bit sad to me that the people I have the most in common with on paper, are the ones who created a problem with me. Gay American Males. Black Women From The Islands. If there were a character analysis based on our life circumstances, one would think, that me and these people would get on swimmingly. I’m not sure someone would guess, that in THIS group, I would be falsely accused of sexual harassment. Initially, it hurt so much because, I was honestly just so excited to make friends. I was so grateful. And though, I have no proof, so I can’t make an official accusation against my accuser, as he did me, it feels as though this was an act of insecurity. It felt that my shining combined with my interest being placed elsewhere offended him. And it’s situations like that, that in my childhood, would have inspired me to hide. But, I won’t. I will not. So many thoughts run through my mind, would that have happened if I were white? How did he feel so comfortable creating this false narrative? Why did literally no one question it? But, I learn to silence these thoughts, because they do not matter. They are not my business. You cannot stop me. Stop stopping yourself.

I accept that the situation took place. But, I will not develop behavior that hurts me, to cope with it. And if anything, this was a pleasant experience, I’m glad I got the opportunity to learn how this group of people behave is such situations, the first day I met them, because I know that I am not interested in surrounding myself with this behavior. And I learned it on day one. Not months after bonding, and getting to know each other. Day One. Done.

During my college experience, there were 3 boys I had intimate relationships with. All of them were distant. When my first “relationship” post-college fell under the same arm-length umbrella… I couldn’t help but notice the common denominator and yet, I did not at all notice the greatest common divisor.

If the common denominator of my intimate experiences was men who are distant, the greatest common divisor was me seeking them out, making their behavior into my enemy, and doing absolutely nothing to rectify the situation, so that, no matter what, i continue to have a problem. So that I could continue to be the victim.

Well, fast forward however many years later. I have read, I have learned, I have grown. Wonderful. If Abraham Hicks was right when he said, “The universe is not testing you, the universe is yielding evidence of where you are vibrationally”, then this yielding of evidence is illuminating.

A month or so ago, I met a man who fit all the requirements my “pain-body” requires in a man, so that I can perpetuate said pain; somewhat attractive, vaguely interested in me, and distant. Initially one is fooled by the familiarity, one thinks, “there’s something about this person.” Yes, you are right! There is something about this person’s behavior. It resembles that of people you have encountered in the past, behavior that allows you to rehearse your favorite type of pain, instead of actually existing in the moment. Well, to my surprise, it took merely 3 encounters with this person to recognize this and for the first time in my adult life, I took responsibility for the situation and told him that I couldn’t see him anymore and that I hoped he understood. Damn Universe! This evidence you are yielding is bomb. I’m feeling my vibrations!….

Oh, what’s that? You not done? Shit, why you ain’t say so…. Lettin’ me get all damn happy and shit.

This nigga (the universe) was not done. Is not done. Will never be done throwing that mirror up in my face, so I could take a good look at my vibrations.

So, recently, I thought it a decent idea to date. Just a little. To get my dick wet (as opposed to my feet). Well, I met this 27 year old boy. Handsome. Wants to hang out. Where’s the problem? To make a long story short, we talk for hours, seemingly get along very well, we fuck, and then he ghosts. My new vibrational frequency didn’t know what to do with this information. There was the initial shock of, “his behavior leading up to this point was nothing like that of those from my past.” “I actually thought this was going to go somewhere… where I don’t know, or care.” “Why am I feeling this?”

But, I talked to myself.

I knew this feeling of “hurt” was my pain body trying to take control and make me a victim again.

I knew there was nothing negative happening here.

Someone just stopped talking to me. That’s it.

I knew this person was not my enemy.

I knew that I should accept the situation for what it was and be grateful for what I was able to enjoy in the situation.

But, even with knowing this. I still felt something.

And I think my life force, suddenly and unexpectedly thrust me out of the situation by forcing me COMPLETELY into the present, where this situation was not actually happening. The situation happened in “the past” and so, if I was in the present, the only thing that is actually existing, I have nothing to rehearse or mull over. But, the funny thing is, this has happened before. This always happens.

Usually I rehearse pain over and over and over again, until the necessary occurs. Until it blows up. And in that explosion, I am thrust into the present, where I feel empowered and “over” the situation. BUT, this time, the necessary didn’t occur. As a matter of fact nothing “happened”. And yet, I managed to be thrust into the now, in that special way. But, this time, I wasn’t empowered by being “over” the situation or “over” him, I was over that behavior. What happened, happened.

This guy was a bad bitch.

And I thought loving bad bitches was my fucking problem.

But, I was my problem.

And being somebody real, was my way to solve it.

It turns out, I have been asleep for years, completely knocked the fuck out, watching this dream-series unfold before my eyes.  Like any other series, I’ve learned what to expect from the characters (including mine), and the rules of the world. And about 27 or 28 seasons in, I started to wonder, “why the fuck is my character written this way? This shit is straight garbage.” If my life is the series, the network is human existence on Earth.  So, I started doing some research on the network. Book after book after book. And finally, I got some info on how my character was developed. This series is sort of a devised piece. For years, I improvised in scenes with a mix of fully developed characters and other improvisers. I learned who my character was based on how other characters defined me, be it based on their interactions with me, my appearance, or my geographical location.  I was given two dramaturgs with the mission of heavy-handedly guiding me through the development of my character, interpretations of other characters, and the development and execution of the script. And after about 6 or 7 years of this process, the script was approved and the show began. So, here I am now, 30 years into this process, and somehow along the way, I started to confuse my character with who I am, who I was before any of this rehearsal started.  Behavior that was necessary for dramatic scenes has carried over into every other scene. A narrative was written for me decades ago, and that narrative dictates my interpretation of everything! This character is my mind’s conditioning and somehow I’ve started to confuse it with myself.

My social conditioning interprets every interaction I have, favoring scenarios where I am a victim, perpetuating the same ideas, over and over and over again. I haven’t been myself, I’ve been my mind.  The mind is very active, rehearsing scenes repeatedly, to cement in your mind who you are in relation to the world, that you are different from the world, that there is “you” and “them”. And after years of this, a whole lifetime of this…. I finally found the tools that helped me learn that I am not my mind and how to silence it, but now, within that silence, who the fuck am I?

When I was a child, I developed behavior that helped me navigate the loudest and most unpredictable people in my life; my parents and homophobic peers.  These people heavily projected on me and interacted with me violently, demanding a response. Even as young as 5, I could see the insanity in this. So, I started behaving in ways that seemed to bring me minimal harm. I started performing. My father often complained that when he would beat me, I didn’t cry. So, I gathered that is the response he wanted, so I gave it to him. My father very much disliked when I displayed any sort of confidence, and would say things like, “you think you’re smart ass, don’t you?” So, to avoid these interactions, I often pretended to be uncertain. I even would ask questions I already knew the answer to, because I knew it would make him feel better about himself. I figured all this and much more out before the age of 10. The problem? Somewhere along the line, I got so good at it,  I forgot that it was a performance. And one day, it was my “personality”.

As a child, my male peers presented many a problem. I wasn’t socialized in the way they were, because I moved so much, so I never had long lasting relationships with other boys and often their behavior resembled that of my father’s; a violent bully. So, I did what I knew how to do. I handled it. Surprisingly, in the opposite way I handled my father. When verbally attacked, I would show absolutely no reaction, even ignoring their existence (the most effective way I had found of putting an end to our interactions).  Groups of laughing boys were met with a straight face and unaffected voice, and some sarcasm for good measure. I did this for long, that I find that today, I interact with many adult men, in the same way. I forgot it was a performance.

After reading this, one might think, “bad stuff happened to me too pall, what’s your point???” The problem is that not only did I forget this was performance, but I started identifying with these problems, allowing myself do be defined by a small range of extreme experiences and my mind’s interpretation of them.

For example. A painting hangs on a wall in a museum. That painting is what it is. Thousands of people enter the museum, come up with their own conclusions about the painting based on their social conditioning and define it for themselves. Do their thoughts change what the painting actually is? No. The painting is what it is. Your interpretation is what it is. If this paining had a human mind, however, it would internalize and defend itself against negative interpretations and then most likely project an “abuser” or “attacker” identity onto those it encountered in life who resembled anyone who gave it negative criticism in the past, and when no one was around, it would think of every negative interaction it had with a person, and think, “why is this my life?”

This is insanity.

I remember having an argument with an ex of mine and it was dramatic and I was crying and blah blah blah. And when it was over, I remembered thinking, I know I don’t care about this, and yet a carried this entire performance out. I could hear myself responding with words from the script, but didn’t actually care. That’s how I first realized, I am not my mind. I am the consciousness that observes my mind and experiences what happens to this body.

Once I was able to identify what was happening, I was aware. Once aware, you can slip back into patterns here and there, but it’s never the same. You know what’s happening. It’s like leaving the Matrix and then trying to go back. It just doesn’t work.  But, the problem is, I don’t know how to live life, because I never have.  All of my instincts and habits and “personality traits” are rooted in this social conditioning, this code that was given to me and my interpretations of people and situations are the same. We navigate the world in the same way that we read, we don’t actually give our full attention to every word, we glance at them and our brain instantly recognizes them, and that’s how our minds handle a great deal of their interpretations of the world. So, I know nothing.

Now, I have to fight to stay conscious as much as possible. To accept that I know nothing. That these situations are neutral, until my mind makes it otherwise. Who the fuck am I?