Zombie State of Mind
The summer before sophomore year, I existed in a vitamin-induced fog. My mom, convinced that my lack of social life stemmed from nutritional deficiencies, had me on a regimen of supplements that turned my urine neon and made me feel like a science experiment.
"You'll thank me," she'd say, dropping a handful of pills into my palm every morning.
I wanted to tell her that vitamins couldn't fix the fact that my crush barely knew I existed, or that my best friend had ghosted me for the popular crowd. Instead, I swallowed them dry and zombie-walked through another day of expecting something to change.
Then came the pool party at Jessica's house—the social event of July. I spent forty minutes perfecting my hair and testing outfits in the mirror, cycling through panic and resignation. When I arrived, everyone was already there, laughing like they'd been friends since birth. The pool glittered blue and inviting, but I stood frozen at the edge, clutching my towel like a lifeline.
"You coming in or what?"
I turned to find Marco behind me, shirtless, wet hair sticking up in all directions. The same Marco I'd been crushing on since February.
"I'm good," I said, my voice cracking. Smooth. "Just... enjoying the atmosphere."
He raised an eyebrow. "In ninety-degree heat?"
"I run warm."
He laughed, and I felt something shift. "You know, Jessica's dad made virgin cocktails by the cabana. They're actually decent. Want to try one?"
My palms were suddenly sweating again. "Sure."
We ended up talking for an hour by the palm trees while everyone else splashed in the pool. Marco was funny, thoughtful, and surprisingly nervous too. He admitted he'd almost skipped the party because crowds stressed him out.
"I always feel like I'm faking it," he said. "Like everyone got a manual on how to be a teenager and I missed the memo."
"Same," I said. "My mom thinks vitamins are the answer."
He cracked up. "That explains so much."
Later that night, walking home with damp hair and the strange, light feeling of having survived, I realized something: we were all just zombies trying to pass as humans. And sometimes, someone saw through the act and decided to stick around anyway.
I texted my mom when I got home: *Can you skip the vitamins tomorrow? I think I'm finally waking up.*