“It’s just vape.”
These three words were constantly repeated to me throughout my four years in high school, from one friend to another. Yet despite the compulsion to conform to teen trends, it is an unregrettable decision to disregard the pressure and focus on what mattered in my life.
It wasn’t a single event, nor was it a single person, but rather a cumulative effect of interactions and conversations over the span of those four years. These occasions would have the ability to fill a thickly bound journal of entry upon entry, pages filled with teenage troubles and desperation. To save myself sanity and time, I’ll condense these moments into a short series of happenings, where the effects can be extrapolated to the entire teenage construct.
It began as many teen trends do: online. Through VSCO feeds and Snapchat stories, teens such as myself glimpsed into the world of others. Photos of glowy, makeup-layered faces, posed in front of glittery fringe backdrops, with drinks and of course, vape pen in hand. Then there were the ubiquitous photos of skinny, blonde-haired girls modeling in front of a gas pump, vape clouds swirling out of their mouths. And before long, it began appearing everywhere. There wasn’t a day that went by where I wouldn’t see another teen walk past, vape pen held discreetly, yet so obviously in hand. Needless to say, it would be heightened during parties and casual events with large groupings of teens.
By the end of 2021, most teens at my school in my grade had already experimented with a substance of one form or another. If it wasn’t alcohol, it was vaping. If it wasn’t edibles, it was magic mushrooms. I fully understood the risks and consequences attached to experimenting, but the immense complexity and difficulty associated with combating the urge to conform to trends is exceptional. Vape pens were the sole substance that teens could slide between their notebook pages, slip out of their pockets between classes, and used in a way that was all the more apparent to teens who hadn’t caught on.
Soon, it became more challenging than simply avoiding those who constantly slid a vape pen in between their phone and their pocket. During a particular day after school, I came across a friend outside the nearby convenience store, leaning against the graffiti-covered brick wall. Swirling billows of clouds surrounded her face as she turned towards me and offered the slim, metallic device in her hand. When I declined, she spoke the words I had repeated to me many times before, “It’s just vape.” When I attempted to explain my mundane, scholarly reasoning, she brushed it aside, and continued, “It’s no biggie. You’re always a goody two-shoes.”
It wasn’t until I began connecting online with similar, like-minded individuals that I felt the pressure ease. Rather than filling my weekends with parties with the people I was attending my classes with, I began reaching out to people who were just as concerned as I was about the wellbeing of teens. Despite the fact that they would be more than 1,000 miles away, I found it to be much more gratifying and worthwhile to dedicate my time to like-minded people whom I shared passions and interests with. Before long, I joined a number of nonprofits dedicated to raising awareness about mental health issues, addiction, substance use, and many other issues prevalent in teenage culture.
It simply won’t do for me to lecture my former classmates on reconsidering the notion of picking up another pod vape. Nonetheless, spreading the message can empower other youth to do the same, allowing for a ripple-effect of mindfulness when it comes to making decisions like these.
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Grace Zhou is currently a high school senior in Alberta, Canada. She is a writer and visual artist whose work has been featured in TeenInk Magazine, Blossom Magazine, and many more. She is also on the executive team of The Healthy Minds Foundation, a youth organization aimed at providing mental health resources to all. Her passions range from film photography to still life painting and everything in between.
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