𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗥𝗬: “Group Yourselves Into…” by Summer Pasadilla

Layout by: Jhowie Anne Rongavilla

Published by: Jadelynn Arnigo

Date Published: January 15, 2026

Time Published: 5:46 PM

Category: Prose

Theme: Acknowledging how being surrounded by people doesn’t always mean you feel included or wanted.

"Group yourselves into..." 

It's a phrase that rings and echoes too loudly in classrooms. To most, it's just an instruction. Maybe another small part of the day that passes by without meaning. But to me, it reminds me that it's time for another moment of uneasy silence. The kind of silence that hums beneath the sound of people walking around and calling each other. It's the moment my hands start to feel heavy, and my voice forgets how to ask, "Can I join you?"

Everyone seems to move so easily. They're all pulled toward each other by some sort of invisible string of familiarity. It feels disgusting, it feels weird—it makes me want to be tied to the string too. Names are called and the joyous sound of laughter fills the air, and within seconds, groups are formed like clockwork. And then there's me—all alone; left standing still, trying not to look like I'm waiting for someone to remember I exist.

Sometimes, someone does. They'd come to me and say, "We need one more," and I smile, grateful but also aware that I was added out of convenience, not choice. I become the nth person because the group needed one more, not because they wanted me to be there. I try to ignore that thought because why would I? It's just a simple group choosing game, it shouldn't bother me. Then again, the feeling lingers and suddenly, I'm reminded that inclusion isn't always belonging.

And then comes another familiar phrase: "Find a partner." Two words that sound harmless until you realize no one's choosing you and not even at least one person is contemplating on choosing you. While others pair off immediately, I stand by my desk, pretending to search through my bag for my non-existent pen that's gone off, pretending I'm not counting the seconds until someone notices.

It's not like I don't like people. I do. I want to connect; I actually have a lot of friends. But times like this make me feel like I may have hundreds of friends and still be no one's first choice. Maybe that's what sting the most. I'm like an invisible space between being known and being wanted. 

I just want to be wanted. Because no matter how old we get, there's always a part of us that wants to be chosen, genuinely. And maybe one day, when a teacher says, "group yourselves into..." I won't have to brace myself for the silence that follows. Maybe, just maybe, someone will already be waiting for me, and I wouldn't pity myself anymore.