Jayden, a 16-year-old with anxiety, a sarcastic inner voice, and no idea what they're doing (but pretending otherwise).
I wanted to start junior year fresh. New notebooks. New hoodie. New "I totally have my life together" attitude.
Instead, I face-planted in front of the vending machine while trying to buy pretzels.
People clapped. I died inside.
That's basically the theme of my life: expectations vs. reality. I expect to be chill and mysterious. Reality: I make weird eye contact with my crush and then walk into a locker.
But this year has to be different. Right?
(Narrator voice: It was not.)
There's a special kind of pain in wiping out in front of your entire school on the first day of junior year. Especially when you're holding a cafeteria tray stacked with pudding cups and crushed hopes.
The second I hit the floor, time slowed. A gasp rippled through the hallway like I had just been nominated for Worst Start to the Year 2025. A single pudding cup rolled dramatically down the hall, as if to say, "Yeah, this year's already off to a trash start."
"Expectations: Me walking into school confident. Reality: Me becoming a human mop for pudding."
The thing is, I really thought this year would be different. I bought new notebooks. I downloaded a habit tracker app. I even convinced myself that I'd say "hi" to people more, maybe even smile at strangers (like a functioning human).
But that first splat kind of set the tone.
And the tone was: chaos.