Carolina Confidential

Every now and then, I’ve been asked, “What’s it like to be you?” And the truth is, I don’t really know. I’ve never been anyone else. There’s no point of comparison, no test run in someone else’s skin, no “before” story to measure against my own. This road—rough in some places, sharp in others—is the only one I’ve ever walked, the only one I’ve ever known.

Living in your own skin means learning by trial, not by template. There’s no swapping experiences, no trading wounds, no borrowing strength from someone else. You carry what’s yours—every scar, every lesson, every quiet victory no one else even noticed. And over time, you stop asking if your path looks like theirs. You start asking if it feels true to you.

We spend so much time comparing lives—who had it easier, who carried more weight, who got lucky, who got left behind. But comparison is the thief of joy. It robs us of truth by forcing us to measure our blood against someone else’s heartbeat. None of us were built to live another person’s story. We were built to live our own.

The problem is, when you live by comparison, you stop living at all. You chase ghosts instead of building anything real. You count someone else’s blessings and miss your own. You measure your worth in borrowed numbers and wonder why it never feels like enough. That’s the trap: there’s no finish line in a race that was never yours to run.

The freedom comes when you decide to carry only what belongs to you. To own your scars instead of hiding them. To take responsibility for your choices. To celebrate victories no one else even notices. That’s the moment you stop apologizing for the road you’re on and start walking it with intention.

So what’s it like to be me? It’s waking up every day with scars that carry their own history—some earned, some endured, some still tender to the touch. It’s learning to keep moving forward even when the applause never comes, and to strike my own matches when no one else is offering light. It’s carrying my mistakes along with my victories and understanding that both have shaped me into who I am. It’s refusing to stand still, because I’ve learned the hard way that standing still is the slowest way to die.

Being me isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t pretty. But it’s real. It’s mine. And that’s the point. It’s not about being special, or different, or untouchable. It’s about ownership—about embracing every cut, every bruise, every broken and rebuilt piece of this life without apology.

So if the question comes again—“What’s it like to be you?”—my answer will be simple. It’s not about being me. It’s about never being anyone else. And for me, that has always been enough.

Until next time,
Stay safe. Make good choices. And as always, stay kinky My friends.

~Dray Orion