I was new, and stupid. I didn’t know the pyramid of West Side School. I came from an island 13 miles long and had a class of 30 kids in sophomore year. There weren’t any cliques, just assholes that you stayed away from. Life was simpler back then. So simple that I assumed that when I went to the States, I would just be welcomed by some outsider that would show me the which groups to stay away from and where to eat, like Mean Girls. That didn’t happen. Instead, the crowd swallowed me. There were too many people. So many to know. So many to avoid. My island’s school was a raindrop on a window, and West Side was the Pacific ocean. The only way to survive was to travel in groups, or to better the analogy of the ocean, stick with one school of fish. In the ocean, there are A LOT of fishes. Fishes with vibrant colors and flashy scales, and fishes that can change color to blend in with the background. Beautiful, elegant fishes and impressive sturdy ones. Fishes that have algae on their fins and sand encrusted in the tails. There were minnows and needlefish, blue tangs, fairy basslets, pufferfish and snappers. What was I? Was there protocol or something for this? Did these fish even care what kind they were until they’re categorized into groups? Did I matter at all to these fish? Then everything turned gray. I wasn’t anything. People and fish are born everyday, and they’re just an insignificant occurrences in nature. I couldn’t even qualified as a fish. I was plankton. So I eat lunch on a bench that day, eating alone at school for the first time of my life.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, the crowd swallowed me. There were too many people. So many to know. So many to avoid. My island’s school was a raindrop on a window, and West Side was the Pacific ocean. The only way to survive was to travel in groups, or to better the analogy of the ocean, stick with one school of fish. In the ocean, there are A LOT of fishes. Fishes with vibrant colors and flashy scales, and fishes that can change color to blend in with the background. Beautiful, elegant fishes and impressive sturdy ones. Fishes that have algae on their fins and sand encrusted in the tails. There were minnows and needlefish, blue tangs, fairy basslets, pufferfish and snappers.
What was I? Was there protocol or something for this? Did these fish even care what kind they were until they’re categorized into groups?
Did I matter at all to these fish?
Then everything turned gray. I wasn’t anything. People and fish are born everyday, and they’re just an insignificant occurrences in nature. I couldn’t even qualified as a fish. I was plankton.
So I eat lunch on a bench that day, eating alone at school for the first time of my life.