Goldfish Dreams

The papaya sat on my kitchen counter like an alien artifact, its mottled yellow-orange skin mocking my existence.

"Eat up, mijo," Mom chirped, in full wellness-warrior mode. "It's packed with vitamin C. Good for your skin."

I side-eyed the fruit. Mom had gone full TikTok wellness influencer ever since her midlife crisis turned into a juice cleanse business. Everything was about vitamins now. Vitamin this, collagen that. Our bathroom cabinet looked like a GNC exploded.

"I'll grab it later," I lied, already late for school.

Benton High's hallway was its usual obstacle course of couples practically swallowing each other's faces and freshmen hugging lockers like they were long-lost relatives. I kept my head down, dodging social interaction like it was a dodgeball championship.

"Maya!"

Of course. Jordan, the human embodiment of main character energy, appeared beside me at her locker. "Party at Kyle's Friday. You're coming."

"Hard pass," I said, adjusting my backpack straps.

She rolled her eyes so hard I worried they'd get stuck. "You never come out anymore. You're like, literally becoming a hermit."

"I'm focusing on myself," I countered, though even I heard how lame it sounded.

"Okay, whatever you say, girl." Jordan shut her locker with finality. "But don't come crying when you're FOMO-ing hard."

I spent the rest of the day in a fog of mild existential dread. College applications were due in, like, a month. Everyone had their five-year plans mapped out while I was still trying to decide what to have for lunch.

That afternoon, I flopped onto my bed and stared at my fishbowl. Goldie, my carnival-won goldfish from eighth grade, stared back with his permanent O-face expression.

"At least one of us has their life together," I told him.

Goldie did a little flip, unimpressed.

Mom knocked on my doorframe. "Hey, can we talk?"

I braced myself. Another lecture about my "untapped potential" or how I needed to start networking for college connections.

Instead, she sat on the edge of my bed and sighed. "I'm sorry if I've been... a lot lately. With all the vitamins and wellness stuff."

I blinked. Was this a trap?

"I just want you to be healthy, but I know I can be... extra," she admitted. "Like, a lot extra."

I cracked a smile. "Yeah, Mom. You're doing the most."

She laughed. "I guess I am." She glanced at Goldie's bowl. "That fish has lived an impressively long time. Maybe he's got some secret to life figured out."

"He just swims and eats," I said. "And somehow that's enough."

Maybe that was the lesson. Everyone was obsessed with optimizing everything — their bodies, their schedules, their futures. Jordan needed every party to be legendary. Mom needed every meal to be nutritionally perfect. I needed everything to mean something profound.

But maybe it didn't have to be that deep.

That night, I finally ate the papaya. It was weirdly good — sweet and musky, nothing like I expected. And yeah, maybe I did feel a little better. Not because of some magical vitamin, but because I'd done something different.

Friday came around. I texted Jordan.

*Pick me up at 8.*

Sometimes you just gotta jump into the bowl and swim.