Zombie Mode and Green Smoothies

Maya felt like a zombie. Not the cool, apocalyptic kind from movies—the boring kind. The kind that existed on three hours of sleep and too much iced coffee, shuffling through AP summer homework while scrolling TikTok until her eyes burned.

"You need actual nutrients," her mom said, pushing a glass across the granite countertop. It looked like something from a swamp.

"What is this?"

"Spinach, pineapple, and literally everything good for you. Drink."

Maya took a tentative sip. It was... not terrible. Her phone buzzed on the counter—another notification from someone's perfect summer vacation. She grabbed it, thumb hovering over Instagram, but her mom caught her wrist.

"No phone while drinking. Did you know scrolling right after eating messes with your digestion? It's basically like skipping your vitamin D supplement entirely."

"Mom, literally everything is bad for me according to your wellness Instagram."

"Just drink the spinach."

The truth was, Maya was tired. Tired of curating feeds, tired of the group chat drama where someone was always mad about being left out, tired of feeling like she was performing a version of herself that nobody actually liked. Including her.

That afternoon, she sat by the community pool, feet dangling in the cool water. Her iPhone lay on the lounge chair beside her, screen lighting up every thirty seconds like a tiny pulse she couldn't ignore.

Without thinking, she slid into the pool, phone and all.

The water swallowed her—the shock of cold, the muffled silence, the weightlessness. For three seconds, nothing existed. No group chats. No aesthetic requirements. No pressure to be someone interesting enough to document.

She surfaced, dripping, phone ruined.

And then she started laughing.

It wasn't funny. She'd have to pay for a new one. But the relief was so intense it bubbled out of her like soda. The zombie feeling evaporated. She was just Maya, chlorine in her hair, green smoothie on her tongue, finally present in her own life.