Am I G@y?

I don't even know where to start. It feels odd—writing like this, as though I am being heard. But perhaps that's what I'm doing. Perhaps I just need someone to listen to me, even if that someone is just paper. I could feel it again tonight. That. shift. Like something inside me moved just a little bit more, tilting me towards a place I'm not yet certain I know. I've been keeping this inside of me for months, pretending everything's the same. Pretending I'm the same. But I don't think I can keep it inside anymore. So, here I am—typing in this stupid notebook that I bought a while back. I explained to the woman in the store that it was going to be for college notes. She smiled and said, "Hope you fill it with something important." Guess I am. I used to like girls. Or, at least, I think I did. It's a distant memory now—like knowing what a song was like and not being able to recall the melody. Once, I could be sitting in a café and be distracted by the girl in front of me, twirling her hair, smiling at her phone. These days? Nothing. No jolt. Instead, I am focusing on other things. Things I shouldn't. Like today at the gym. I should have been focusing on my reps, but my eyes kept drifting—first accidentally, then on purpose. The way his shirt hugged his back, the way sweat trickled down his temple. I don't even know his name, and yet I can still picture him in my head. I hate to admit it. I hate to write it. I can already see what my friends would do if they knew. Bro, that's messed up. Bro, you're tripping. Bro, you need to go see a girl, that'll cure it. But it doesn't cure it. I did try. God, I tried. My girlfriend, Miriam, broke up with me two months ago. She said I was "distant." That I no longer looked at her the same. I tried to tell her I was stressed over school, over life. But deep inside of me, I knew it was something more. When she kissed me, I didn't feel that flame burn. When she smiled, it failed to heat up my chest like it used to. I suppose I just tired of her. People fall out of love, don't they? But the more I reflect, the more I know that it is not her. It's… all of them. There is a piece of me that wants to close this diary right away and never open it up again. If I don't tell it, if I don't say it, then I might still be able to turn back. Maybe I can still be the one everybody thinks I am. But then I remember him again—the gym guy—and my chest tightens in a way that it no longer does when it comes to girls. God, what is happening to me? Maybe saying it out loud will help me make sense of it. Or maybe it'll just make it more real. I don't even know what I am right now. Am I gay? Am I bi? Am I just conflicted? I don't know. But I do know this one thing—tonight was the first night that I couldn't fool myself anymore. Because when I came home, I did something I never did before. I went on i********:, looked for the gym's account, scrolled down until I saw him featured in a group photo… and I stared at it for a long time. Longer than I should have. And then my heart started racing! …my heart started racing — like I'd been caught doing something wrong, when there was no one else around. I shut my phone so fast it was like it was burning. But my hands were shaking, and my reflection in the dark screen stared back at me like it knew something I didn't want to admit. I threw the phone onto the bed and walked around my room. "This is stupid," I muttered to myself under my breath. "It's just a picture. It doesn't mean anything." But the thing was, it did mean something. Because for the rest of the night, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him out of my mind. Not his face or his arms or his smile, but the way I'd felt just looking at him. Alive. It's been a bit since I've felt that way. When Miriam and I broke up, I wasn't sure if I'd just emotionally burned out or something. Like, maybe I was numb to everyone. But I suppose I'm not numb. My heart just. went in a different direction when I wasn't looking or something. I sat back down on the bed and stared at the diary. My room was silent, aside from the hum of the ceiling fan. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. To admit to myself — let alone to anyone else — that something is different about me now. But tonight made it impossible to pretend. I unlocked my phone again, thumb hovering over i********:, staring at that same picture. He wasn’t even looking at the camera. His head was turned slightly, laughing at something just out of frame. That laugh — even frozen in a photograph — turned my stomach over. I had to know what he was laughing at. I had to know who he was laughing with. I had to know everything. And that's when fear crept in. What if somebody walked in right this second and caught me staring at this picture? What if my parents, my brother, anybody—what if they found out? I'd never hear the end of it. I threw my phone down again, buried my face in my hands, and let out a trembling, long breath. I don't know if this is a phase. I don't know if this is forever. All I know is that my heart isn't the same as it was six months ago. I have no idea what that means for the rest of my life. --- I've had to stop writing for a few minutes just now. Had to calm down. But here's something that I've never told anyone — not even Miriam: I've always been a little different. Even in high school, when my friends would whistle at girls walking by, I'd laugh and whistle too so that nobody would think I was weird. But inside, my heart wasn't racing for the same reason as theirs. Sometimes, I'd catch myself staring at the new kid in class a second too long, or feeling jealous when he hung out with someone else. I told myself it was because I simply wanted to be friends with him. But maybe it was more. Maybe it's always been more. --- I just re-read what I've written, and my chest is tight. Like the words are too big for this page. Like once I put them down, I won't be able to take them back. But maybe that's why I should keep going. Because for the first time in my life, I feel myself moving towards something true. And maybe that's why I'm so afraid. --- I was still staring at the diary when I heard my mom shout from downstairs. "Dinner!" I quickly wiped my face, closed the book, and shoved it under my pillow like it was evidence of a crime. "Coming!" I shouted back. At dinner, all the noise was louder — my dad talking about work, my brother looking at his phone, my mom asking me about my day. I answered in one-word responses, nodding like I was paying attention. But my mind was still upstairs. Still on him. My brother said halfway through dinner, "Yo, that gym guy was here today. He came to buy paint for his bike. Cool guy." I froze. "What?" I said before I could stop myself. "Yeah," he said with a shrug, not looking up. "He wanted to know if we had spray paint. I think he lives a few blocks away. Why?" "Nothing," I said quickly, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. My brother didn't notice. But my heart was thumping in my chest so loudly I could barely hear the rest of dinner. He lives in the neighborhood. I could run into him. Anywhere. And part of me wished for that. Desperately. --- After dinner, I rushed back upstairs, locked my door, and pulled the diary out again. I need to write this down before I lose my nerve: I think I want to see him again. But I don't know if I should. Because if I do… I don't think I can pretend anymore. --- My hands are actually shaking as I write this next part, but here goes: Tomorrow, I'm returning to the gym. Not because I need to exercise. But because I need to see him. I barely slept last night. I kept seeing him in my mind every time I closed my eyes. Not just his face but the manner in which he was laughing in that i********: photo, as if everything was a piece of cake for him. As if he didn't have a hundred questions going round his head at night. By morning, I had made up my mind — I was going. I didn't mention it to anyone, naturally. I simply took my gym bag, stuffed some random clothes in, and went. My palms were moist the whole walk over, and I kept wondering what would be if I did end up seeing him. Would I greet him? Would I avoid his eyes? Would I stand there stock-still? The gym was deserted when I got there. The morning peak was sparse — a few people on the treadmills, one woman doing squats in front of the mirrors. And then I saw him. He was standing near the free weights, earbuds in, shirt glued to his chest. In that moment, I nearly left. My heart leapt into my throat and it felt as if the air had been vacuumed from the room. I made myself step across the room and start stretching, although my legs were shaking like jelly. I tried not to look at him. I really did. But every now and then, my eyes strayed over. He didn't notice me at first. But then, as I was completing a set of push-ups, he looked up. And smiled. A little, polite smile. But it was enough to shock through me so hard I nearly forgot how to breathe. I smiled too — or at least, I think I did. My face flushed, like all the other people in the room could see right through me. I made myself focus. To make it through my workout and go home like nothing was wrong. But my head wasn't playing along. My heart wasn't playing along. When I got up to get water, I passed by where he was. He pulled out an earbud and said, "Hey, man. You're early today." His voice was easy, informal — like we were buddies forever. "Yeah," I managed to stutter, not wanting to break. "Thought I'd, uh, get the day started right." He nodded once more and grinned before going back to his weights. That should have been the end of it. Just a normal chat between two guys in the gym. But my heart was still racing against my chest, and my palms were still moist with sweat. I couldn't concentrate on anything after that. I finished my last set too rapidly, grabbed my backpack, and left. Outside, I leaned against the wall, sucking in deep gulps of air like I just finished a marathon. It was just a smile. Just a hello. But why did it feel like my whole world had changed? --- I couldn't get it out of my head, rehashing the encounter again and again back home. The way he said hello, the way he gazed at me — like I existed, like I mattered. And then I realized something: I want to feel this again. Not only the excitement of being noticed, but how it felt to be alive, as if I hadn't been in so long. And that scares me more than anything. --- I didn't write with the pen in the diary for a few hours after getting home. I just sat on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to calm down. But at some point, I did take up the pen and start writing again. Because something happened today that I can't sweep under the rug. Something that made everything I've been feeling these last few months impossible to shove back under. I'm not dreaming. I'm not confused. I think… I like him. There. I said it. It's like disarming a bomb in the middle of my own life. And I'm not sure what to do with that yet. --- My phone just rang. It's from my brother: "Hey, the gym guy — I think his name's Adrian — said he'd come shoot some hoops with us this weekend. You in?" I sit here with my eyes on the screen, heart racing so hard I can hear it in my ears. This weekend. I may be able to be near him outside of the gym. I don't know that I'm ready. But I also know that I can't say no. I reply with a text: "Yeah. I'm in." And the second I hit send, I know there's no going back.