Juliet Becker/Daily Nexus

After failing my midterms, I have reached a moment of enlightenment: The real degree was the friends we made along the way. 

This revelation was slow in the making. For almost half of a quarter now, I have burned in the fires that are waking up for 10 a.m. classes. I’ve labored in the library, and I have gotten very good at Slither.io during sections. No one could doubt my academic tenacity. Unfortunately, it became clear that I’m too handsome and funny and tall for this. 

What do people remember the most from their time in college? It’s not the valuable skills they gained, the resumes they built, the careers they began or the reality that having a degree increases your future income by 70% on average. They remember their dirtbag friends with substance abuse problems. 

Having a higher GPA will not help my follower count. Try showing your perfect essay to the bouncer at the club and see if you get in, pal. Yes, I could have studied more, but the UV was up, so I was busy. Maybe if I show my professor my sick tan, he’ll give me a pass. Or maybe I failed because he’s jealous. Good luck with your passing grades and internships, nerds. I’m too busy being awesome. 

My mom called me a few hours ago, and I tried to explain this to her, but she didn’t get it. “No, the real degree is your bachelor’s in biology,” she said. I think that’s open to interpretation. She called me a “dumpster fire.” I had to explain that I’ve just failed my English exam. I don’t understand metaphors. 

Apparently, I’m a disappointment and she wishes I were more like my sister. I don’t get it, my sister can’t shred waves, man. Yeah, she wants to be a doctor, so what? There is absolutely no cool way to style a stethoscope. Do you know how many likes my last Instagram Reel got? Almost 200. I’m already a big deal. 

Or maybe I’ll just switch to communications. 

Kelly SLAYter doesn’t know anyone named Link Din.