I am having more fun that you. Can’t you tell from my Snapchat story? I go to brunch and eat crème fraiche. You are not doing that. You are eating eggs alone. Again.
I am at bars gallivanting with attractive members of the opposite sex. What are you doing? Watching that show again? That must be fun…
I am more popular than you. Just look at my Instagram post. It got so many more likes than yours and I didn’t even try. Mine was a picture I took earlier. I was saving it for a rainy day. Except that it’s not raining. It’s 85 degrees and sunny. But you can see that in my newest beach picture.
Did you see that I am a better person than you? I posted about it on Facebook. Someone was in need, so I made a socially conscious action.
Now everyone knows that I am altruistic. And magnanimous. People even commented. Lots of them. Where are your comments? You must not be doing good deeds. Tisk tisk, you shitbag.
I am better traveled than you. Just look; I am moving to France. It says so right here. I am worldly. I have lots of flags and cities and arrows in my Tinder profile. Where are you traveling? To and from work?
You won’t get any swipes without flags. Or elephant pictures. You will die alone. And no elephant will remember you. They will never forget me. I made a local take a picture of us. He won’t forget me either. I am foreign. Exotic.
Did you see that this is published now? This is online. Maybe even in print. Forever in the databases to access. And love. I am symbolically immortalized. Indelible. You will be forgotten like dust in the wind. But not like the popular song. Literal dust. To become mud later. Not even loamy soil, fecund and functional. Slop to wipe off of old shoes. F*@k you.
Class of 2016