Matt Joseph Diaz

Feeling unsafe and feeling uncomfortable aren't the same. Pushing yourself into uncomfortable places can help you grow.

We met Matt a year ago when he showed us his post weight-loss body.

For some of us, our first real taste of adulthood comes from sitting alone in a clinic, waiting to get our ding-dongs tested.

It isn't “political correctness” to ask you not to be an asshole. It isn't “censorship” to ask that you consider the basic human rights and feelings of others before spewing your toxic, hateful, inconsiderate bullshit for the world to see.

There’s a big difference between talking and communicating. One exists to relay messages, ideas, and feelings: the building blocks of being a person. The other exists to fill time. I’m by no means here to tell people how to approach their relationships — I just don’t want people to feel pressured to fill silences with noise out of the fear their partners won’t think they care.

People who live with mental illness are aware of how our brains work differently. Because of this, we constantly go the extra mile to try to validate what we’re feeling within ourselves before even considering voicing an opinion out loud.

Being asked about my weight-loss “secrets” make me uncomfortable. It feels very different from people wanting to know about my story. It feels like being asked to provide a shortcut.

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.

Impostor syndrome is a disconnect in your mind between how everyone sees you and how you see yourself. It can be more dangerous than it seems.

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.