Matt Joseph Diaz

I promise you, people living with depression are acutely aware that things probably aren’t as bad as they could be.

My roommates [...] weren't aware that I live with bipolar disorder until a few weeks after I first moved in. In the month or so since, I’ve learned a lot about the way we approach our interpersonal relationships when living with mental illness, especially with those who are closest to us — both emotionally and literally.

I’m uprooting my life to try something new and different in another city in another state. In the time leading up to the actual move, I’ve found that a bunch of weird fucking shit (for lack of a better term) has showed up out of nowhere.

I know, it's Monday. BLECH. But, that also means it's time for #MondaysWithMatt.

I’m not writing this in order to get defensive about my number of partners, by the way. I’ve had sex with around 25 people since the end of 2012 and I’m perfectly proud of and comfortable with that number. However, asking someone you’re dating about how many people they’ve slept with is a question meant to make them feel ashamed.

[CN: surgery, bodily fluids] There are scars, blood drainage, swelling and bruising — it’s essentially going to look like makeup from The Walking Dead following the procedure. Not only that, but you’ll probably lack the necessary energy to groom yourself like you normally do, and you might not be allowed to shower for an extended period of time.

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.

I'm 23 years old, I don’t want children, and every elder who discovers this feels compelled to tell me how wrong I am about my own feelings.

Dear anti-feminist men, 

I’m writing to you because I want to have a discussion.

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.