Life feels like it's spinning faster these days—like a carousel that refuses to slow down.
There are so many things orbiting around me now—family, friends, studies, a career I'm desperately trying to build, and a portfolio I'm shaping piece by piece, hoping one day it'll open the door to the life I dream of.
And then there's Gabriel.
Maybe I'm not his best friend. But he's mine.
He's my safe space—the calm after every storm, the one who listens when the world turns too loud. The one who makes me smile without even trying.
The one I love.
But life doesn't always unfold the way we wish it would, right?
If anything, I've learned that plot twists are the foundation of my story.
Sometimes I think of my life less like a timeline, and more like a never-ending series.
And this—this feels like Season 18.
Gabriel moved away.
He left this town.
He left this university.
And he took a part of my heart with him when he did.
He lives in Austin now.
I like that city—it's warm, alive, almost cinematic in its charm. But I can't bring myself to love it anymore, because all I can think of is that it's his city now.
After he moved, we still talked—at least for a while.
We'd text late at night, laugh over the same old jokes, share little pieces of our lives as if nothing had changed. I'd always end up ranting about something—my chaotic days, dramatic stories, my never-ending confusion about life. And he'd listen. Patiently. Kindly. Without judgment.
Because that's what a safe space feels like.
Like home, without the walls.
But after a few months, something started to shift.
Not in our friendship—at least, not at first—but inside me. Quietly.
I didn't even notice when it began.
At first, I just started feeling... different.
More withdrawn.
More aware.
And then—out of nowhere—I started hating men. Not him, but everyone else.
It wasn't anger exactly—it was more like discomfort.
If a random man passed by on the street, or sat too close in class, I felt this strange wave of irritation rise in me. It was subtle at first, like a faint whisper at the back of my mind. But soon, it grew louder, and I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I kept trying to brush it off.
Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the distance that changed something in me.
But then—
Boom.
Another plot twist.
I realized something about myself I had never dared to even think of before.
Something that made the world tilt for a second, like reality had shifted ever so slightly.
I'm bisexual.
The word didn't scare me.
It didn't confuse me either.
It just… fit.
Like it had been waiting for me all along, hidden in plain sight, somewhere between the moments I fell for him and the times I caught myself admiring someone else without realizing why.
Everything suddenly made sense—but also didn't.
Because once you see yourself differently, it changes how you see everything else.
And that's when it hit me—
Maybe my life isn't just full of plot twists.
Maybe I am one.
The story isn't over yet.
But something tells me the next chapter might not be what anyone expects