Catfish Zombies and Truth Bullies

Maya's iphone glowed at 2:47 AM, the blue light washing over her face like a radioactive tide. Another notification from that group chat—were they talking about her? Again? She felt like a zombie, staggering through AP Euro classes on three hours of sleep and an IV drip of iced coffee.

Her cat, Barnaby, jumped onto her desk, knocking over a stack of vocab flashcards. He purred loudly, as if mocking her exhaustion.

"You don't have to care about follower counts, Barnaby," she whispered, scratching behind his ears. "You're just here for the kibble."

The real problem wasn't the phone itself. It was Jordan. The group chat admin. The person who'd called Maya's photography "basic" last week, then acted like it was just a joke when Maya got upset. The group chat had gone silent for three whole minutes after Jordan's comment—those terrible, awkward minutes where everyone waits to see who'll speak first.

That's when the mental bull detector went off. Maya had been tolerating Jordan's backhanded compliments for months. The way Jordan always managed to make everything about her own achievements. The subtle digs about Maya's "trying too hard."

But tonight, staring at Jordan's latest story—a screenshot of someone else's post with "thoughts?" as a caption—Maya finally saw through it. This wasn't friendship. It was performative.

Barnaby nuzzled her hand, and Maya made her choice. She typed out a message to the group: "Hey, I'm taking a break from this chat. The negativity's been weighing on me and I need to prioritize my mental health."

Send.

Her heart pounded. Would they drag her? Would Jordan screenshot it and make her a punchline?

Instead, her friend Sam replied immediately: "Honestly same. This chat's been stressing me out too."

Then Priya: "I've been wanting to say something for weeks. Jordan's comments have been getting out of hand."

Maya's phone buzzed with notification after notification. Support. Validation. Other people stepping out of the zombie haze of people-pleasing to claim their own space.

Barnaby purred louder, as if to say: told you so.

Maya silenced her phone and finally—finally—slept.