"Isn't it incredible,"
She queried,
"There's an addicting collection of lifestyles before us...
And we can be any of them!"
"Marissa, you genius,"
Said I,
"You brilliant, amazing, genius!"
She had articulated perfectly the way I felt about the world in front of us.
There were the usual crowds--
The jocks,
The nerds,
The theatre kids,
The band geeks,
The stoners,
The gamers,
The popular chicks,
The emos,
Et cetera, et cetera.
All with their own quirks,
Their idiosyncrasies,
Their peccadilloes,
Warts and shines.
There were other kinds of crowds, too,
Though.
There was the girl with thin scars on her thin wrists,
A part of the lonely crowd that grappled with a common demon.
The boy who wore the same sweatshirt every day,
Who'd recently begin to sport some peach fuzz above his upper lip,
Who often smelled of body odor and whose hair was a little too greasy.
The one who was a member of the horde of quiet poor--
Smart enough to fool you,
But not wealthy enough to keep up.
The student who slept through class,
Part of the group for whom school offered an escape from the wars at home.
A small island of relative peace amidst a sea of turbulent battles.
There were the busy bees,
With their AP classes and extracurriculars,
Not popular but not ostracized, either.
There were the ones who flitted between,
The social butterflies who somehow maintained the graces of all the above,
Few and far between,
But easy to talk to and unassuming,
The kind of people everyone likes.
There were the bullies, too.
The ones insecure in themselves,
Feasting on,
Reveling in,
Dependent upon,
The weaknesses of others.
All these and so many more.
We saw them all--
A brilliant camouflage of people and personalities and habits of life,
Some by choice,
Others not.
And like Plath's fig tree,
Which we'd read about in English class last week,
They all seemed so appealing,
In some way or another.
Maybe I wanted their smarts,
Or their popularity,
Or their anonymity,
Or their struggles,
Or their personality,
Or their strength,
Or their courage..
I didn't really know.
But I did know that,
Like the fig tree,
I would choose one,
And the others would die off,
Forgotten.
But for now,
There they were,
An enticing dinner menu with altogether too many options.
And here we stood,
In the hallowed halls of high school,
The world ours for the taking,
And such an addicting collection of lifestyles in front of us.
Thanks to MP for the inspiration
