Personal Narrative: The Drug Of Inclusion: Envy

The Drug of Inclusion: Envy

In 4th grade, I realized that a green-eyed monster lurked deep inside my subconscious. It resided in a virtual labyrinth -- unpredictable. For as long as I could recall, it remained lost to where it did not even seem to exist, lethargic through its loss of purpose. However, after a mad trend surged into my childhood, it found its source of nourishment and jolted into action - sprinting from corner to corner. Fueled not by its own will but rather mines, it desperately sought to find an exit into my mind. Once it did and could roam freely, it transformed itself into a demonic parasite and transformed me into its host.

***

Recess was almost over and I was growing restless. My friends and I always got together immediately after the bell rings, but today,

they were nowhere to be seen. Oddly enough, the entire soccer field was deserted. Even the obnoxious supervisors, whom would always pace up and down the white outlines, had vanished. Where could everyone be? In the distance, I caught the silhouette of a vague shape protruding from the courtyard. I rubbed my eyes and re-squinted, noticing that it was actually a crowd of people, emitting dull chants and cheers. Something was different. Curiously, I sprinted towards the peculiar gathering, wondering what was going on. What I didn’t realize was that as the cluster gravitated me towards it, the green-eyed monster acquired the scent of its first healthy meal and quickly began to devour it.

The gathering was much bigger than I had expected. From the teachers to the infamous sixth graders, the courtyard appeared to confine the whole school. Those who weren’t, the excluded stragglers, desperately sought membership. No, sought inclusion. They stood before a large banner which read “Beyblade Club,” and beneath it, in bold green strokes of paint, read “Join for Free! Just Bring your Own Beyblade!” What was a Beyblade? Clearly, something important, right? As I pushed past many people, their deafening shouts and cheers grew louder as I was engulfed in the crowd. The acclamations emitted a mesmerizing fragrance which I couldn't resist to follow. I ventured deeper into the courtyard and with every step, the now fully energized green-eyed monster began to get closer and closer to the exit.

It was some sort of school tournament. I looked over the shoulders in front of me and saw an array of these small, crater-like structures on the tarmac; where two people stood on each opposing side - looking down at what appeared to be a plastic cavity. No, the proper terminology was a stadium. I noticed that all of my friends stood before one as they appeared to compete for something - without me. Each clenched a colorful ejector-like device with a string attached to it. No, the proper terminology was a string launcher. I watched as a person yanked the string with all his might, releasing something. Their faces were beet red and pumped with anxiety and adrenaline as they cheered at something inside the stadium. I jumped above the crowd to see what was everyone so ecstatic about. A rotating object flashed past my field of view, inducing a sense of desire within me. I jumped again and took a closer look. It was just a mere top. No, the proper terminology was a Beyblade. That’s what a Beyblade was. Just a golf ball sized hunk of plastic yet the moment I saw it, a dark sense of jealousy was invoked in me. I desperately needed it. I desperately needed inclusion. I cannot be a straggler. For the first time ever, the green-eyed monster found its way out of the labyrinth and took the new form of a parasite, infecting me with the drug envy.

That day after school, I looked at my Dad in astonishment. I wanted to scream, but I managed to have some generic control. How could he refuse my offer? I reopened the toy store’s website on his computer and pointed to the price. It was only ten dollars, yet he continuously shook his head in refutation.

“But why can’t I?

It's the most popular toy at school!” I protested. “I’ve always got good marks and behaved. What have I done wrong?” The green-eyed monster now gained control of my voice, intoxicating it with an excess of desperation -- far more than deemed healthy for me. I had never before acted this way with my dad, especially not in such a compulsive manner.

“I am sorry, but I am not going to buy you that toy, that’s final. It’s just that you are too young to understand right now. There is no such thing as latest and greatest.”

I gave him a dirty look and stormed off to my room. Tears began to gather in my eyes, but I rubbed them away, removing all signs of defeat. Instead, resentment rushed in and filled them with envy. I was going to get my hands on that Beyblade no matter what. While I didn’t know at the time, my Dad was in fact, correct. Never before had I felt so excluded from everyone I knew -- my whole school. Never before had the green-eyed monster broken out of its labyrinth. I had developed no such immunity towards its insidious effects. And every time I tried to resist its urge, discomfort and pain would spread over me, until that night, I succumbed under its

control.

I didn’t have to worry about falling asleep. The green-eyed monster kept me wide awake. I waited for the right opportunity. Once my apartment was emptied of even the slightest sound, I turned on my flashlight and tiptoed my way to the living room. Once there, I searched for my Dad’s desk. There it was, only a few feet away. I slunk over, the green-eyed monster now drooling all over me. There was no turning back. I open the first drawer and just as expected, found my Dad’s wallet. I flipped it open. My fingers leaped past everything until they got to the part with cash stuffed in it. I looked inside the flap. Eureka. A ten dollar bill. But wait. Behind it, trying to hide from my clutches, was a twenty dollar bill. I took the twenty instead.

***

I looked at the two Beyblades I found while cleaning out my basement. Storm Pegasus and Lightning L’drago. They carried such a deep meaning and history. They are like monuments of my childhood. Till this day, my Dad doesn't know what I had done seven years ago and I probably will never tell him. I probably will never throw away these two BeyBlades either. Instead, I will keep them, and if the green-eyed monster ever tries to gain control of me like that again, I will simply look at the Beyblades, clench each one in both of my hands, and proceed to recite the story of when recess was almost over and I was growing restless…