My best friend and I share a gym, and our locker codes match—my birthday. One day, I opened his locker by mistake and found a notebook inside. It had workout notes but also pages with my name, my birthday, and key moments from my life. Unsettled, I confronted him. He casually claimed his code was random, but I sensed a lie.
His uncanny knack for knowing my moods and recalling forgotten details started to bother me. When I confronted him again about the notebook, he admitted it wasn’t about stalking but about gratitude. Years ago, during a dark period of drinking and isolation, our friendship—sparked by a chance conversation—gave him hope. My birthday became his locker code because it marked the day he felt seen.
The notebook wasn’t creepy; it was his way of holding onto that lifeline. We grew closer, more open, but later he distanced himself and entered a mental health program. He confessed the depth of his struggles and how our friendship kept him going. “I didn’t want to burden you,” he said. I assured him he never was.
Now, we fill a new notebook together with shared moments and small wins. That notebook wasn’t obsession—it was survival. The real twist? The heaviest secrets are often unspoken feelings. Tell those who matter you care—before it’s too late.
