Hello.
…That sounded more dramatic in my head.
Let me try that again.
Hi.
My name is Gabriela Tsukishiro, but almost nobody calls me that because apparently it sounds too serious for daily conversation. So everyone calls me Gabu instead.
I'm sixteen years old, which is an age where people are supposed to be doing very exciting things like discovering their dreams, rebelling against society, or at least pretending to understand what they want to do with their life.
Meanwhile I am currently sitting at a desk with a pencil, a notebook, and a very questionable amount of confidence in my ability to solve equations.
So yes.
My life is extremely thrilling.
If you ask my classmates what kind of person I am, the answers are usually something like:
"She's really smart."
"She's good at sports."
"She's calm."
"She's reliable."
One time someone even said I was "intimidating," which surprised me because the most dangerous thing I've done this week was accidentally drink someone else's milk at lunch.
(It was not my milk. I realized halfway through. It was awkward.)
But I understand why people think that.
I study a lot.
I help classmates with homework.
Teachers trust me with responsibilities.
From the outside it probably looks like I have everything neatly organized.
Like one of those perfectly labeled study guides.
But if you look closer…
There are actually a lot of small doodles in the margins.
I like doodling.
Little sketches of people.
Clouds.
Basketballs.
Sometimes a very badly drawn cat.
My notebooks look very responsible until you reach the corners of the pages. Then suddenly it becomes an art gallery for things that make absolutely no sense.
Life should have small nonsense like that.
Otherwise it becomes too serious.
And honestly, I'm not a serious person.
I just look like one.
For example:
Yesterday I spent thirty minutes analyzing a physics problem.
Then another ten minutes trying to figure out why the vending machine sometimes refuses to give me strawberry milk.
The second problem was actually harder.
So yes, I think about things a lot.
Probably too much.
But thinking is comfortable for me.
Thoughts are neat.
Thoughts follow logic.
Thoughts can be organized like a puzzle where every piece eventually finds its place.
People are… a little less predictable.
But that's fine.
I like people too.
My best friend Aoi is one of the most energetic humans ever created.
She laughs loudly.
Talks loudly.
Complains loudly.
And somehow still manages to make every day a little brighter just by existing.
Being around her feels like standing next to a small emotional fireworks show.
Which is nice.
Because without friends like that life might become a little too quiet.
And I like quiet.
But not too quiet.
Anyway.
If you asked me what kind of life I want, the answer is pretty simple.
I want to live in a way that feels… right.
That's the best word for it.
Right.
If something is the right thing to do, then I want to do it.
Even if it's difficult.
Even if it's inconvenient.
Even if no one notices.
That kind of life feels clean.
Like solving a complicated equation and finally reaching the correct answer.
Simple.
Logical.
Beautiful, even.
At least that's what I believed.
Back then.
Back when my biggest daily challenge was deciding whether to start studying before or after buying strawberry milk from the vending machine.
Back before something very small happened.
Something that probably looked completely normal to everyone else.
A boy walked into my classroom one morning.
He sat at the desk next to mine.
He looked at my notebook.
He said something simple.
Then he went back to talking with his friends like nothing important had happened.
The entire interaction lasted maybe ten seconds.
Ten seconds is not a long time.
But sometimes…
Ten seconds is enough to quietly change the direction of a story.
I didn't know that yet.
Of course I didn't.
At that moment I was still a person who believed life followed clear logic.
A person who believed the right choices would always feel right.
And honestly?
I kind of miss that version of me.
She was very confident.
Very calm.
Very certain.
…
Poor girl.
She had absolutely no idea what was about to happen next.
:)
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let's start at the beginning.
It was a normal morning.
Or at least it looked like one.