Editor’s Note: This is a satire piece from The Collegian’s opinion section. Real names and the events surrounding them may be used in fictitious/semi-fictitious ways. Those who do not read the editor’s notes are subject to being offended.

As a senior counting down the weeks to graduation and repeating the dreary steps of my day-to-day schedule, I’ve thought a lot about the stories I’ll tell about my time here. I live as a functional recluse most of the time, but like you normies, I have the ability to lie.

To be honest, college amid a pandemic was not giving the same energy as the crazy campus life you’ve undoubtedly seen in movies, but that’s why lying is such an important skill to develop.

Did you spend your entire spring break sleeping and in the foggy waking moments, eating hot fries and bingeing “Bling Empire?” No, of course not, because that would be sad.

I did not do those things. Instead, I went to Bali with my huge group of friends, and we drank strawberry daiquiris and did not get heat stroke or sunburns because the sun recognizes the “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” code. Slay.

I’m bound to become someone’s cool aunt someday, and I can’t just tell these hypothetical children gloomy stories about ye olden days. My spring break was one for the record books. It was so fun, and all the money I spent just went back into my account in an infinite loop. Flights were free, and I had legroom.

The sun was shining every single day; I was in a jungle, but I was not choking on a mosquito storm. No, hypothetical future children of my brother, I was not just home misting my plants and mumbling to myself. That would be weird.

“You don’t have to become the scary older person who reminisces on the days of masked people fighting over toilet paper or sitting in class, fogging up your glasses while maskne — mask-induced acne — flourishes beneath the cloth. There is hope for us. Fake it until you make it. Lying will take you all the way home.”

If you feel like you missed out on some important college experiences you were promised and the only college parties you were ever exposed to were packed with stinky, beer-and-body-odor boys and not Zac Efron or a mysterious woman who smells like lilac, you’re entitled to compensation.

Clearly, this is not going to come out of the university’s pockets as there’s a no-refund policy, so until we can pressure the admins to get a plan together, lying is your best bet. 

You don’t have to become the scary older person who reminisces on the days of masked people fighting over toilet paper or sitting in class, fogging up your glasses while maskne — mask-induced acne — flourishes beneath the cloth. There is hope for us. Fake it until you make it. Lying will take you all the way home.

It’s important that you don’t minimize the effects of the pandemic or act like you were one of those people who didn’t give a shit about social distancing and partied regardless; that’s cringe and ages poorly immediately. The lies have to be intricate, but honestly, they don’t have to be that believable as long as you don’t sound like an asshole.

You have time to create these memories by mentally conditioning yourself to believe your own delusions. By the time I become the cool aunt I’m meant to be, I’ll practically believe my spring break really was the shit, and lying will come so easy.

My college experience may be coming to a close, but the lies I will tell about how many ragers I’ve attended will live on forever. Cheers to my fellow homebodies!

Reach Bella Eckburg at letters@collegian.com or on Twitter @yaycolor.