It’s 2:13 a.m.

You know that magical hour when your brain decides now is the perfect time to replay every awkward conversation, every friendship you’ve lost, and every life decision you’ve ever made?

Yeah… welcome to my TED Talk.

Lately, sleep and I have been in a very complicated relationship.

Not because I’m binge-watching another TV show — although… guilty — but because I’m honestly scared of what happens after I close my eyes.

The people I lost.

The people who once felt like family.

And somehow my brain keeps hitting the replay button like it’s trying to unlock some secret ending I missed.

Spoiler alert: it never does.

THE “WHAT IF?” GAME

0/10… would not recommend.

I’ve become a professional overthinker.

• What if I had handled things differently?
• What if my mental health hadn’t gotten in the way?
• What if I had asked for help sooner?

What if…

What if…

What if…

It’s exhausting.

The truth is, I know my struggles changed me. They affected relationships that meant everything to me, and that’s a reality I’ve had to learn to accept.

What hurts the most isn’t even that those relationships ended.

It’s that I never really got the chance to explain myself.

Sometimes I wonder if they ever randomly think about me.

Do I show up in their dreams too?

Or am I just another chapter they’ve already closed while I’m still rereading the pages?

THEN THERE WAS MY “BEST FRIEND”…

Cue the nostalgic montage.

We met at my very first job working at the movie theater.

Back then, life felt simpler.

This was the friend who introduced me to Comic-Con, which honestly became one of my favorite traditions.

Because of him, I got to meet some pretty incredible people:

And probably a few more that my brain has decided to archive somewhere.

Still waiting for the universe to let me meet Arielle Kebbel and Colton Haynes. Seriously… whenever you’re ready, universe.

Looking back, those weekends weren’t really about celebrities.

They were about friendship.

The road trips. The laughs. The stories we’d tell for years afterward.

Those memories still make me smile.

THEN THE PLOT TWIST HIT.

Years later, after I had started working at the medical office, I found out something that completely blindsided me.

One of his coworkers — someone I actually spent a lot of time hanging out with at Disney Springs — told me that my best friend had been going around telling people I was gay.

Here’s why that hurt.

It wasn’t because of the label itself.

It was because it wasn’t his story to tell.

Yet somehow someone else decided to have it for me.

Without asking.

Without thinking.

Without realizing how personal that really was.

I was angry. Really angry.

When I confronted him, he apologized.

He told me he never wanted anything bad to happen to me because he knew I had been struggling with my mental health.

And honestly?

I believed him.

Maybe because I wanted to.

Maybe because that’s what friends do.

Or maybe because when you love people, you become really good at explaining away the things that hurt you.

THE SLOWEST GOODBYE

Then one day…

Nothing.

No texts.

No random memes.

No “Hey, wanna grab dinner?”

Just silence.

It’s funny how friendships don’t always explode.

Sometimes they just quietly fade into the background until one day you realize months have gone by.

People at work would say things like that all the time.

And every single time…

I’d make another excuse.

• Maybe he was busy.
• Maybe work was stressful.
• Maybe life got in the way.
• Maybe he didn’t want to pick me up because I didn’t drive.

Maybe…

Maybe…

Maybe.

Looking back now, I don’t know if any of those reasons were true.

Maybe the hardest lesson adulthood teaches us is that not every ending comes with an explanation.

Sometimes people simply leave.

And you’re left holding a thousand unanswered questions.

SO… WHY AM I WRITING THIS?

Because maybe someone reading this has been there too.

Maybe you’ve spent nights replaying conversations you’ll never get to finish.

Maybe you’ve blamed yourself for things that weren’t entirely your fault.

Maybe you’ve held onto people long after they let go.

I’m still learning that healing isn’t forgetting.

It’s learning how to carry the memories without letting them carry you.

Some days I get it right.

Some days my brain decides it’s time for another 2 a.m. rerun.

Healing isn’t linear.

Neither is life.

So if my subconscious insists on turning my dreams into a Netflix drama every night…

At least let Season 2 have a happier ending.

Until then…

I’ll keep showing up.

I’ll keep writing.

I’ll keep healing.

And maybe — just maybe — one day the nightmares will finally become memories.