Goldfish Memories and Zombie Mode

Maya dragged herself into third period biology, brain definitely operating on zombie mode. Three hours of sleep because Instagram decided to absolutely last-night her with everyone posting their highlight reels while she was over here barely making it through the week.

"Maya, you good?" Quinn whispered from the next seat over. They'd been sort-of-friends since seventh grade, but lately Quinn had been hanging with the popular crowd and Maya had been... well, existing.

"Just tired," Maya muttered, pulling her emergency vitamin gummy from her backpack. Her mom had switched her to these "focus support" supplements, claiming they'd help with her "academic performance." Whatever that meant. Mostly they just tasted like artificial grape and disappointment.

Mr. Henderson was going on about cellular respiration again, and Maya found herself staring at the classroom goldfish — this sad little guy named Bubbles who spent his entire life swimming in literal circles. No joke, she timed him once. Three minutes and twelve seconds before he'd loop back to the same plastic castle.

"What do you think Bubbles thinks about all day?" Quinn whispered, actually leaning over to her.

Maya blinked. "Uh, probably that we're all weird giants staring at him?"

Quinn laughed, and something shifted. "You know, sometimes I feel like him. Just swimming in circles, you know? Like, wake up, school, practice, homework, sleep, repeat. Total goldfish memory vibes."

Maya turned to fully face them. "Wait, you feel like that too? I thought you were, like, living your best life with the squad."

Quinn rolled their eyes. "Dude, it's all cap. Half those people don't even know my real name. They call me 'Quinny' and I literally want to throw myself into a volcano."

They spent the rest of class passing notes about how much they both hated the performing aspect of high school — the constant need to be "on," the fake laughs, the energy they had to maintain just to survive the hallway between classes. Zombie mode wasn't just about sleep deprivation. It was about emotional exhaustion from pretending.

"Hey," Quinn said as the bell rang, "want to come over after school? We can marathon that show you're always tweeting about. Actual chill time. No performing."

Maya felt something unclench in her chest. For the first time in months, she didn't feel like she was forgetting everything important every five seconds. She felt like she might actually remember this moment.

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "I'd really like that, friend."

"Friend?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "We're bringing back friend? I thought we were 'acquaintance-adjacent'?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

And just like that, the zombie flickered back to life. Not because of some vitamin or productivity hack, but because sometimes all it takes is one real conversation to remember you're not just swimming in circles alone.