It’s the “final stage of processing,” she said. Whatever. She’s the last therapist Mom’s insurance is covering, so I guess I have to at least pretend to try.

She wants me to write about my day, my “feelings.”

Fine. Here you go.

Mom and I moved into the new apartment last week. It’s smaller than the old house, which means I can hear the neighbors arguing about what to watch on TV. But it’s also quiet in a way the old house never was. No doors slamming. No tension thick enough to taste. Better.

Dad hasn’t called. Good. The less I have to do with him, the better. Because whenever he calls. My hands started shaking so bad I dropped the phone. Dr. Miller calls it a ‘trauma response.’ I call it ‘not wanting to get yelled at.’”. Honestly, the divorce might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me

There. A feeling. Happy now, Doc?

Dr. Miller said to write about what makes me “happy.” That’s a dumb question. It’s summer. It’s hot. Happiness is the fan pointed directly at my face and a full bag of chips.

Right now, it’s just scrolling on my phone.

Got a new notification from Pinterest… a pin for my “Cool Stuff” board.

Huh.

I actually looked at the board for the first time in a while. Let’s see. Data points:

— A guy with great abs doing a backflip into a pool.

— Some anime dude with white hair and sad, pretty eyes who could probably kill you with a single glance.

— Zendaya at the Met Gala, looking like a literal goddess who could step on me and I’d say thank you.

— Ryan Reynolds being charming.

— A picture of a really, really nice guitar.

Common thread? No idea. They’re just… vibes.

Okay, I fell down a rabbit hole. It started with the Pinterest board and ended two hours later with me taking a BuzzFeed quiz titled “We Can Guess Your Sexuality Based on Your Favorite Type of Bread.”

I got “Rye Bread,” which apparently means I’m “chaotic and unpredictable.”

No shit, Sherlock.

But it got me thinking.

I went to my phone notes and typed out a word I’d seen on TikTok: Pansexual.

It felt… weird. Like trying on a new shirt you’re not sure fits yet.

So I did some research. Watched a few videos from people who weren’t shouting. Read a few articles.

It’s not about being “greedy” or “confused.” It’s just… you like the whole restaurant, not just one thing on the menu. You’re attracted to the person—their energy, their spark.

Okay. That actually makes sense, I guess.

It feels less like a label and more like an explanation.

I hid my phone when I heard my dad’s car in the driveway—then remembered he doesn’t live here anymore. Old habits.

Last entry for a while, because this is getting boring. I’m done with the research. I’m not gonna have some big “coming out” announcement.

It doesn’t feel like a big deal.

It just feels… true.

So here’s my final report for Dr. Miller:

I like people.

People with good hair.

People who are funny.

People who are smart.

People who are soft but secretly strong as hell.

People who don’t flinch during thunderstorms.

People with a good vibe.

So that’s it. I’m a vibe collector.

A connoisseur of cool souls.

It’s not a big secret I have to keep.

It’s just the setting on my compass.

And it feels like it’s finally pointing north.

End of stupid journal.

Now I’m gonna go play my guitar.