“Everyone’s Favourite Game”,
I go to a well-earning private school in Fairfield County, so naturally I’ve had experience with some very wealthy people. Or rather, some children born into very wealthy families. If you’re a little observant you start to see how they act, and it’s very different from the average person. Everything with the wealthy is a little more extreme, a little more extra, a little more pronounced. The best example of this is vanity.
The social cliques at my school have already formed. I consider myself a part of none, because they don’t consider me to be a part of them. One of these cliques is the Student Section, known as “the zoo”; a Student Section is when you go to a school’s sports game and you see the people doing coordinated cheers and screaming and maybe making asses of themselves to support their school. They’re loud, and obnoxious, and I find them funny. But at the end of the day it’s still vanity because nobody really asks why are we supporting the school. What reason do we have beyond just patriotism and a feeling of “we’re supposed to”. The answer is that it’s what the environment runs on. Like the fish runs on the river, or the bear runs on the bushes’ berries, we run on school spirit. I’ve never felt personally compelled to follow through with school spirit; not because the school isn’t good, it is, but because I’m just not that type of person. I’m not athletic and I don’t like running. I have asthma, and I used that as an excuse when a kid I know told me I need to run track with him next year, but my asthma’s actually very mild. The real reason why I don’t like sports is because I’m fat and I could be doing something else. Or at least, I consider myself fat. Everything in life is based on considerations, basically. I consider you my reader. You might consider me a damn idiot. My mother might consider me her son. My doctor might consider me a person. My cats might consider me their owner, or might have if they were still here, but they’re not. And it’s kinda sad because they were cute but simply too active. We had them for two years: Mike and Molly, named after the TV show, weirdly enough. They were domestic shorthair cats; we got them in early 2022 and they were out in early 2024. They scratched an “F” into the wall. Mike was the docile one; Molly was the misbehaved one. I kept telling my mother please, let’s just keep Mike, he’s the nice one, I love him, get rid of Molly, she’s the mean one, if she was a dog she’d be a bitch, just let her go, get her out, out, out, but she didn’t listen and she took both of them back. She took Mike, and I cried about it once. I think I recorded myself crying about it and held up a picture of him. He was the cutest little devil, I swear. Grey and white. He loved to just…sit on chairs. He would sit in your lap too, or sit in my lap I should say, and let you pet him and he’d jump off eventually. I tried to get him to sleep in my bed a few times but it never worked. I miss Mike, but not as much as I used to. I’ve gotten over it, I guess. I still want a cat though. Maybe a Maine Coon when I get older. My mother says Maine Coons are bad, but maybe it’s time to stop trusting my mother on certain things. ♦