By Reality

Hey there! You remember me, right? I’m everyone’s favorite killjoy; the name’s Reality. I’m afraid I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks, but don’t worry, we’re gonna get acquainted real soon. I can’t wait to chat with you about overbearing midterms, the disappointing social scene, and your crushing feelings of wasted potential. I’ll even try not to laugh.

Don’t worry, though, today I’m just here to have a chat with a few of you: those who spent the last four years eagerly anticipating college as “freedom from the misery” of high school, and those hoping to re-enact the plots of shitty teen comedies. 12th Grade pretty much ended in March, so you’ve had six full months to whittle the hours away by fantasizing about how, come September, you’ll be up to your neck in parties, hook-ups, and recognition for all of your hard work and talents. You fucking idiots.

Despite what some of you seem to think, I never made you any promises, and certainly don’t owe you anything. So quit all this romantic idealism shit. It sickens me.

Those of you who dreamed of college as a haven for intellectuals; what the fuck were you thinking? Your classmates matured just as little as you did over the past few years, only now there’s no parental oversight to keep their worst traits in check. And you would-be partiers, Goddammit, just take a look at yourselves. You’re letting your parents spend a fortune for you to get a 2.5 GPA. In History. Good luck with that.

That’s it for today. Don’t find my rant relatable? Congratulations, you might actually look back on college fondly. But I’m still going to make you my bitch. So have fun at Wildcat Welcome; I’ll bug you later. We’ve got all the time in the world.