What the actual fuck?

 

🖤 A Word from Wes (or Jake… or whatever name you’re DMing about this week)

Let’s just cut the shit.

I get a lot of DMs.

Some of them are sweet. Some are weird. A few are borderline unhinged.

And a lot of them sound like this:

“Where are you from?”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Can I send you something private?”

“Wanna chat?”

No.

No, I don’t.

Look—I’m not trying to be rude.

But I’m not here for surface-level bullshit.

I’m not bored. I’m not lonely. I’m not swiping through thirst traps at 3am hoping for small talk salvation.

You wanna ask about trauma? I’m in.

Mental health? I’ll stay up all night.

You’re having a breakdown and need someone to actually hear you? I’m yours. Fully. No judgment. No delay.

But you wanna call and chitchat like we’re Tinder matches or play “what kind of movies do you like?”—I’m out.

This isn’t a dating profile.

It’s a mission.

I write books. I bleed truth. I show up here to say something that might actually matter to someone who’s been left behind by this candy-coated, algorithm-chained world.

And yeah—I’ve seen the nudes.

Some of them? Not bad. A few? Actually badass.

But if your big opener is a banana pic or a pouty thirst trap, I’ve seen better.

Hell, I can Google better.

You wanna really turn me on?

Show me your mind. Show me your scars. Show me you read something and felt it in your chest.

That’s the shit I’m starving for.

Now let’s talk about the blog.

Over 4,000 views.

More than 300 posts.

And not. one. single. comment.

What the actual fuck?

Are y’all scared? Are you ghosts? Do you think Zuckerberg’s gonna slap your wrist if you say “cool post”?

You are allowed to have an opinion.

You are allowed to say something.

You’re not gonna get banned from the internet for typing, “This hit me hard,” or “This post was trash.”

(I mean I’ll fight you if you say that last one, but still—at least you showed up.)

This blog is a confessional.

It’s a cathedral.

It’s a rage room.

It’s a sacred space for the wild, the broken, the pissed off, the passionate, and the weird.

But it sure as hell ain’t a mirror.

Don’t just come to look at it.

Come to speak. Come to be part of it.

Otherwise, you’re not a reader.

You’re just a lurker in shackles.

So yeah.

Comment.

Engage.

Bring your soul, not your small talk.

And for God’s sake, if you’re gonna DM me…

Make it matter.

🖤

— Wes (or Jake, or whatever burns your algorithm)