I am sick. I am tired. I am fucking hilarious, and the whole world knows it. “But, Sierra!” you cry, “isn’t that kind of vain of you?” Shut the fuck up! Let me have this!
Look — here in Isla Vista, it’s hard for a San Diego seven to get by. How do you think I pulled my smoking hot girlfriend? By having a silly, little personality, goddamn it! My quips! My lighthearted jabs! They inspire the masses, summoning them into a riot that will then come to lift me up, cheering and chanting my name as I crowdsurf in the direction of a five-foot-two androgynous lesbian who is in love with me. This is my girlfriend. We are in love. Deal with it, homophobe.
Alas, I deal with many perils and follies and woes in every GroupMe I find myself entering. Whether it be for a class, club or otherwise — I am too funny for the society I find myself buried within. Too much of a comedian for the people around me who have the same sense of humor as a bag of all-purpose flour. What is a girl to do in these trying times? Shall I give up my jokes in favor of only asking questions about the class itself? Shall I retreat into darkness? Shall I bury myself in embarrassment?
No. I will persevere. I will continue to send memes about the class. I will continue to overuse the words “slay” and “girlboss.” I will carry courageously on for this simple reason: Who else will do it? No one. Only me. I am the funniest bitch in the GroupMe. While the weight can be suffocating, it is also the most freeing force I have ever known. Sure, judge me for my little jokes if you’d like. But I have never, ever, been happier, à la Cassie from Euphoria. Suck my dick.
Sierra Vakili wrote this in a state of mania.