Three-Second Memory

My attention span had officially shrunk to that of a **goldfish**.

Between AP Euro, debate team, and my mom's subtle reminder that 'colleges are watching everything,' I'd been operating in full **zombie** mode for three weeks straight. My eyes burned. My brain felt like it had been replaced with a damp sponge.

'Stop staring at your ceiling like it holds the meaning of life,' Kai said, throwing a bag of Skittles at my face. 'We have that chemistry lab due tomorrow.'

Kai was the kind of friend who'd throw Skittles at your face instead of asking if you were okay. Which was exactly what I needed.

'My brother's **dog** ate my rough draft,' I deadpanned, catching the bag. 'Not even kidding. Burton actually consumed six pages of my notes. I have nothing to show for my life except a slobbery notebook and deep resentment toward a canine.'

The joke landed flat because it was technically true. Burton, my brother's Golden Retriever, had developed a taste for academic destruction.

Kai flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling with me. 'You know what's messed up? How we're all just climbing this invisible **pyramid** of achievement.'

I rolled onto my side to look at them. 'What are you talking about?'

'Like, think about it. At the bottom, you've got the people who barely show up. Then you've got us—stressed-out, college-obsessed, grinding for that perfect GPA. Then the influencers and athletes who've already "made it." Then the tiny percentage who'll actually be running everything someday. We're all just scrambling up this pyramid, stepping on each other to reach a peak that might not even matter.'

I was quiet for a minute. 'I don't want to be a zombie anymore,' I said finally. 'I want to feel like a person again.'

'What's the opposite of zombie mode?' Kai asked. 'What's the antonym of a stressed-out, overachieving, sleep-deprived mess?'

'Alive?' I guessed.

'Alive,' they said.

So we did something completely irresponsible. We walked to the park at 11 PM on a Tuesday, sat on the swings, and talked about everything except school. We didn't study. We didn't plan our futures. We didn't worry about climbing any pyramids.

We just existed. And for the first time in months, I remembered what it felt like to have a memory longer than three seconds.

My goldfish attention span could wait. I had more important things to do.

Like learning to be alive again.