I wake up (beautifully) to the sound of my alarm, “Kiss Me” by Sixpence, none the richer. Then I record and post my daily GRWM to TikTok, which I know that everyone cares deeply about. Next, I carefully decide between my “subversive” and “sticky” nameplate necklaces. Today is a “sticky” day.
After removing my sock curls, I toss on my Brazil jersey and a white bubble skirt. Putting on a blueberry milk-colored Tabi on my left foot and a Miu-Miu ballerina flat on my right, I leave my Pinterest wet dream of a room and make my way to class.
As I walk, I realize that instead of going to class, I could just not. Nobody cares about disciplines that end in “studies.” Everyone here thinks I’m beautiful.
I am.
Right as I begin scrolling on Depop, my bitch mom calls me and asks why I’m not in class. I tell her that dad is gay and cheating on her. She cries. I promptly hang up the phone, and admire my Hailey Bieber coffee nails. I decide I will go to my next class, a fuck-ass seminar titled something that’s probably meaningful and profound, but not of much importance.
This class sucks. Who even cares about… whatever the fuck this is?? I do the Wordle, Connections, Spotle, Mini Crossword, Spelling Bee, Duordle, Quordle, Octordle, Strands (which you probably don’t even know about yet), Vertex, …. and eventually, it’s time to leave. Everyone looks at me as I grab my one-of-a-kind The New Yorker tote bag and leave. It’s because I’m beautiful.
Deciding to bless the Motley with my presence, I grab a lavender oatmeal chai latte and sit in the common area for a bit, letting Scrippsies salivate over my immense aesthetic allure. Jaws drop, sexualities are shifted, and I carry on with my day.
I figure I have to maintain my 2.5 GPA if I want to study abroad next year–I’m manifesting an Emily in Paris moment–so I go to study in the Cube. As I mysteriously twirl my hair, several CMS athletes crash their electric scooters into the Cube, astonished by how amazing I look. I write my name on an empty google document and decide to call it a day.
As I head back to my dorm, I check the engagement on my TikTok post from earlier in the day (438 likes—I’m blowing up!), and upvote all the posts on Fizz about beautiful 5C women that I’m sure are all me.
After getting home and doing my 33 step skincare routine, which is just everything in the Dr.Murad catalogue, I do my Red Light Face mask and tuck into bed.
I knew today was a sticky day.
Also, I’m bisexual.