Animals. They have turned into animals.

I’ll admit, when Senior Out started last week, I was slightly regretful about spending my $5 on Subman at lunch instead of a ticket. I let my laziness and frugality get in the way of what I thought would be a great big fun time with a great big group of senior friends, possibly leading to a great big prize. But, after the past two weeks of witnessing the game of survival and deceit, I stand a little more confident in my decision to eat a delicious sandwich instead of participating.

Students run rampant. Friends turn to enemies; allies turn their back on one another, and your back is constantly tingling with the fear of your rival standing behind you, waiting to pounce. It is the Senior Hunger Games, minus the actual life-threatening part.

During these past two weeks, I have been dragged around from class to class like a security blanket for those consumed by the always looming threat of losing the game. I’ve seen quiet and harmonious people go from a competitive nature of zero to a hundred, and those who were already competitive go from a hundred to a gazillion.

Friends have been temporarily ostracized, years of built trust have been broken, and tensions are running high. From heavy-duty stalking to gather classmates’ home addresses and places of work, to befriending their mothers, to jumping out of bushes on their front lawn before they come home from a long day at school, there is no telling what lengths these seniors will go to for the winning title.

So, as “fun” as sprinting around campus for my safety and never being able to sleep during school without one eye open sounds, I think I’m pretty comfortable taking long, slow strides to class and breathing in the fresh air of the day when that bell of terror rings.