[i just write so much faster on a keyboard. my thoughts don't get caught at my fingertips, they just tap out so swiftly as to feel natural. ironic, i know.]

coming back feels so good and yet i'm feeling so anxious. maybe i do need to travel, despite my oft-vaunted love of montreal. maybe i need to go to the west coast & visit all those lovelies that i met this past week. go to portland, victoria, vancouver, sleep on some couches & go to shows & pretend that i'm not slowly & weirdly growing up.

not that growing up means anything if you don't want it to.

maybe i need to just be on a train by myself across canada (when i have one million dollars to spend. wtf is wrong with this country when trains are more expensive than planes?) or on a bus or stopping in cities in between & trusting that i'll find queers who have couches i can sleep on.

or maybe i just need to feel more useful in this city of mine: volunteer with p10, actually get involved in the childcare collective. make more things. apply to schools? or not.

fuck, fuck. i'm just feeling a bit out of place while also feeling so relieved to be back.

and how could i even be thinking of leaving this place of love & comfort & skin on skin & stories & drawings & eyes & mouth. i have, in fact, promised not to.

i'm so grateful.

for:
+ a date who makes the most beautiful things and just gives them to me like it's nothing, who organizes alleykat/scavenger hunts in this city that we love and stencils hir arms around me on walls that have seen our stories
+ a bestfriend who knows me so well & knows who i want around me & that i don't want to have to organize those logistics on my birthday
+ a chosen family of amazingly smart, caring & lovely queers
+ a blood family of amazingly smart & hilarious siblings
+ a city that i love so much that i feel literally heartsick when i leave it
+ a bike that gets me where i'm going fast and reliably (even when it makes little worrying ticking noises)
+ wrestling & mosh pits on the days when i need to fight some(one/thing)
+ cuddles & movies on the days when i need to retreat
+ enough money to pay for my home, delicious food (or extremely bland food on those increasingly frequent nauseous days), alcohol for the nights when i need it, and ink under my skin.

maybe i'm doomed to having intense crushes on people who work out for a second but not longer than that.

up against a brick wall in an alleyway we kissed nervously at first and then harder, and then my hand crept up and pushed you, harder & harder until i imagined lines of brick in your shoulders & you gasped.

i'm working on suppressing it, trying not to check you out, not think about lifting you onto my cock and the way you shook when my fingers brushed your hipbones. avoiding the eye contact that would bring me back to the brick wall in a second.

one moment it's easier to refrain because i understand that decision that you made, understand not wanting drama and not risking that lovely friend of mine. the next i forget and just want to push you up against the bricks again.