The Sphinx at 3 AM

I felt like a zombie scrolling through my phone at 3 AM, my eyes burning but sleep nowhere near happening. Junior year was eating me alive, and my brain wouldn't shut up about everything: AP classes, college applications, the fact that I still hadn't figured out who I actually was.

Thunder rattled my window. A storm was rolling in, and lightning flashed across my ceiling like a strobe light, illuminating the chaos of my room—half-finished homework, scattered clothes, that papaya my mom insisted would help me focus sitting untouched on my desk because it looked weird and smelled like tropical sadness.

Then my phone buzzed. Marco, the guy I'd been lowkey crushing on since September, had posted something cryptic: "Anyone else awake solving life's riddles?"

Before I could overthink it, I typed back: "Bro, it's 3 AM and I'm questioning my entire existence."

"Same. Let's talk."

We ended up on my roof, wrapped in blankets against the drizzle, watching the sky turn this incredible orange as the storm broke and dawn threatened. Marco told me he felt like a sphinx sometimes—guarding all these secrets and questions, terrified to let anyone see what he actually thought. "Like, what's the point of being cool if you can't ever be real?" he said.

"I feel that," I admitted. "I'm so tired of performing."

"Then don't." His orange hoodie glowed in the streetlights. "Be weird. Eat the papaya. Whatever."

We laughed until my ribs hurt, two zombie teenagers exhausted by everything except this moment of honesty. When the sun finally rose, I realized something: I didn't have to solve all the riddles tonight. Sometimes you just find someone else who's asking the same questions, and that's enough.

Also, papaya actually isn't that bad if you get past the smell.