Some labels don’t just name you; they catch you mid‑fall. When your desire arcs in many directions but keeps landing, stubbornly, on women or softness or something beautifully in‑between, “berrisexual” arrives like a secret finally spoken out loud. Not to shrink you. Not to erase anyone else. Just to describe the exact angle of your he… Continues…
Related Posts
Twilight At The Wheel
The impact was sudden. No one saw it coming, yet everyone feared it someday would. One wrong lane, one shaken driver, and a circle of young cyclists…
Hidden Winter Hazard at Your Door
The danger doesn’t wait. It lurks outside your door, invisible, waiting for one careless step. A single patch of ice can turn a normal morning into an…
Laughing in the Lion’s Den
They thought he was harmless. They thought the grin meant he didn’t feel the weight, that the jokes were a shield instead of a choice. They saw…
Trust the Food, Not Ink
That tiny printed date isn’t a prophecy. It’s a suggestion dressed up as certainty, and you’ve probably thrown away perfectly good food because of it. The quiet…
Echoes After The Cameras Leave
The verdict came like a punch. Not with cheers or chaos, but with a quiet that felt like judgment. On one side stood a polished narrative, stitched…
Quiet Room, Loud Regret
She died without a sound. No sirens, no crowd, just a maid’s key turning in a lock that would not answer. For years, she had been the…