The Plot Twist You Become

Last night, I sat on my couch at 2 a.m., eating cereal straight out of the box, wondering if my life choices were sponsored by the word “Oops.”

I whispered into the darkness,

“God… am I on the right path? Or did I take a wrong turn somewhere around 2017 and never recover?”

You know those nights.

When your fridge contains nothing but expired yogurt and existential dread.

When your phone feels heavier than your student loans.

When your LinkedIn notifications say, “Congrats on your work anniversary!” but you can’t remember if you actually like your job… or if you’re just really good at pretending.

So there I was, asking the Big Questions, like:

“God, did I peak in high school when I got a perfect attendance award?”

“Am I supposed to learn something profound from these rejections, or is this just an extended blooper reel?”

“Are my dreams too big, or am I just not caffeinated enough?”

Silence. The kind that makes you check if your Wi-Fi is down, even though you’re talking to the universe.

In a last-ditch attempt to get a response, I tried to bargain.

“God, if You could just give me a sign — a glowing billboard, a fortune cookie with very specific instructions, or even a pigeon spelling out ‘Keep going’ in the sky. Anything.”

Nothing. Just the faint hum of my fridge plotting to break down again.

Then, I remembered something someone once told me:

“Sometimes, the silence isn’t a ‘no.’ It’s an invitation to trust.”

Trust. That annoying, beautiful, complicated word.

Trust that the missed opportunities are protection.

Trust that the detours have hidden gems you can’t see yet.

Trust that you’re not as lost as your GPS says when it screams “Recalculating.”

I started to laugh — that half-delirious, half-relieved kind of laugh. The kind you do when you realize that maybe your life isn’t falling apart; maybe it’s just unfolding in weird, awkward, slow-motion chapters.

Maybe the next chapter won’t come with a LinkedIn announcement or a carefully curated “I’m thrilled to share” post. Maybe it’ll just come quietly, at 2 a.m., when you decide to keep going even when you don’t know why.

So I finished my cereal, brushed the crumbs off my shirt, and whispered one last thing:

“Okay. I don’t get it yet… but I’ll keep showing up. Even if I have to do it scared. Even if I have to do it messy. Even if I have to do it with cereal dust all over me.”

Then I went to bed.

Not because I had it all figured out.

But because I finally realized… sometimes the plot twist isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you become.