The reality of mob mentality
Chilling in thigh high boots, inhaling the slightly nauseous scent of burning incense, nodding to the raucous beats of an underground band i pretend to care about. We are legion, These girls and I. Being similar is celebrated in this circle, no room for mutations in personality here, so be sure to leave your opinions at the door before seeking a pass to this world.. their world.
The setting is desperately illegal, girls lying on beds, on the sofa, sitting crossed legged on dressers. Lighting their joints, downing jello shots, washing it down with good ole pink drinks. Some are clearly high, muttering unclear words and giggling uncontrollably. They are getting restless, making out with each other is starting to happen. She smiles at me, my two weeks old friend, i smile back, try to show her i am ok with everything. Try to act like i see this shit on a regular, must prove i’m not a scared little girl. A week ago, when she invited me for the “strictly girls” party happening at her house, i was carried away by the excitement of being considered cool enough to hang with her inner circle. I didnt question, i didnt know..
I’m downing drinks like a fish, anything to keep that smile on her face. I feel nauseous and my vision is blurry, i have an exam tomorrow, what am i doing? Should leave now, should go away before i self destruct. I long for the familiar warmth of my own room, the unadulterated air that exists beyond this place. She passes me another jello shot and i oblige. I am at her mercy, i cant say no.
I find myself agreeing to stupid shit i dont believe in. I’m laughing right on cue to jokes i shouldn’t find funny, i’m like the cheap imitation in a room full of originals, i try so hard to hide my tracks, try to show i’m no different from them.
Fragments of mamá’s advice flit through my thoughts, those years of solid advice didnt mean shit. I never saw why she felt the need to preach about bad friends, about the things drugs could do. In my adolescent head, it was a non-issue. I didn’t see myself doing any of this. Well, look at me now.
She passes me a pipe of incense and i want to reject it. My Asthma would flare up, the acne i’ve kept at bay these few weeks wont turn down a chance to procreate on my face, i hate the way it tastes, it burns my throat, i have a million plus one reasons to chicken out yet once again, I inhale. I can feel my life expectancy rapidly divide like a malignant cell. This isn’t a random peer-pressure speech, no this is my reality. Words of advice and inspirational google quotes wont kill this mentality. I watch her eyes sparkle as she hurls praises at me. I catch phrases like “she goes hard!” “must hang out with us more often” “Baddest eighteen yr old i know!” as i slip into oblivion. A girl mixes soda, cough syrup, and codeine in a red plastic cup and hands it to me. I am officially one of them, i have proven myself. My last thought as i pass out on the floor is about the finals i have tomorrow, i should never have come here. They watch me self-destruct, but they love me and that’s what counts.
”But I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person.” – Olivia Wilde
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You’re currently reading “The reality of mob mentality,” an entry on Kitkat's Tales
- October 14, 2011 / 10:24am10