The Pyramid Scheme Zombie Apocalypse

I felt like a zombie walking into third period, my brain fried from another night of doom-scrolling until 3 AM. My hair was doing something tragic—probably revenge for the bleach experiment gone wrong over the weekend. I'd wanted that aesthetic messy-wave look, but instead I looked like I'd been electrocuted.

"Hey Sofia!" bubbled Taylor, whose Instagram-perfect life made mine feel like a blooper reel. "You coming to the 'Vision Board Party' tonight? It's gonna be SO transformative!"

I nearly gaged. Taylor had been trying to recruit half our junior class into some wellness pyramid scheme that promised financial freedom and crystal healing. The fact that she'd roped in three of my friends was either impressive or terrifying.

"Can't," I muttered. "Big plans."

My big plans involved hiding in my room and untangling the disaster behind my TV. Every charging cable, HDMI cord, and random wire had formed a knot that defied physics. I spent twenty minutes wrestling with it, which honestly felt like a metaphor for my entire sixteen years of existence.

That's when my phone buzzed. Group chat: Taylor's MLM meeting was actually happening, and half the squad was going.

I stared at my reflection—bad hair, dead eyes, the whole zombie aesthetic working overtime. And suddenly I couldn't do it anymore. I grabbed my backpack and headed to the pool.

The water was calm at dusk, rippling slightly in the wind. I sat on the edge, feet dangling in, and just breathed. The cool water anchored me, reminded me that not everything had to be a performance.

Some pyramids are better left buried.

I texted the group chat: "Passing on the pyramid scheme. Hit me up if you wanna hang for real though."

Three dots appeared. Then: "Finally someone said it." - Marcus

"thank GOD I didn't want to go anyway" - Jen

Taylor left the chat.

Baby steps.