The more I try to make myself legible to mainstream platforms, the more I realize I was never meant to fit inside their boxes.

A person seen from behind standing in the middle of a city street at night, arms raised, showing both middle fingers toward the glowing blur of traffic lights and neon signs. Long hair falls down their back, a dark jacket catching the streetlight — a quiet, defiant “fuck you” to the city and whatever rules it represents

Lately it feels obvious — almost boring in its clarity — that I should just stay where the ground is softer and the rules are written by people who actually believe in autonomy. Every time I step into a mainstream platform, I’m asked to sand myself down, to explain my body, my words, my intent, to prove I’m not dangerous simply because I’m honest. I don’t want to negotiate my voice with systems that reward blandness and punish vulnerability. Decentralized spaces don’t ask me to perform safety theater or obedience. They let me exist, publish, disappear, return, without begging permission. So yes, I’m done chasing approval from platforms that confuse control with care. I’ll take the quiet, resilient corners of the internet — and the rest can politely go fuck themselves, deeply and without my participation.