Matt Joseph Diaz
Bio
Matt Joseph Diaz Articles
I was definitely what you might consider a “late bloomer.” When I was younger, I was exceedingly shy around women and insecure about my weight, and I put no effort into my appearance whatsoever. I didn’t have a decent haircut until 2013, and even that’s debatable.
Read...If I get into a heterosexual relationship and spend the rest of my life with that person, I will still be bisexual. I will still feel that attraction to the man on the other side of the bar, even if I’m in love with my partner who happens to be a woman.
Read...When you go through a difficult, traumatic, or transformative experience, there’s a part of you that wants to hold onto the person you were before it happened. You try so hard to hold onto a simpler time–a time when things weren’t so scary. But you can’t.
Read...Whether it’s your ethnicity, your religion, your sexuality, you do not deserve to be loved in spite of who you are — you deserve to be loved for who you are. Those things are a part of you, and they shouldn’t be swept under the rug or pushed to the side so someone can pick and choose the things they like about you.
Read...Even on the days you've made a mistake, or hurt someone, or otherwise messed up and caused yourself to doubt whether or not you like you, it's sti
Read...You aren’t half of something waiting to be made whole — you’re a complete human being with your own important thoughts and ideas, looking for someone to add to your life. You're neither incomplete nor missing out on anything just because you’re single.
Read...There’s almost definitely a better way to begin this, but I can’t think of one more appropriate. Growing up is really fucking weird. One day you’re having a great time arguing if Doctor Doom would beat Darth Vader in a fight (he would,) and next thing you know you’re worrying about taxes and whatever a “mortgage” is.
Read...Being unable to post photos of funny signs outside of bars or live-tweet bad reality TV had more of an effect than I'd anticipated.
Read...For some of us, our first real taste of adulthood comes from sitting alone in a clinic, waiting to get our ding-dongs tested.
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