You may not know it yet, but I am someone magnificent, extraordinary even. I am she, who achieves unsurpassed parallels of success with a will and a wish, who transcends mountains with the ease of a Sunday drive. I am Me the Great.

Me the Great is an absolute intellectual force to be reckoned with, none other than she could walk right into an essay test unprepared and scrape together mounds of barnacle scum off of her mainstream mind ship, sailing upon a sea of knowledge, and manage an 85. No one, except for that girl who got a 92. But she was prepared, so technically it doesn’t count. In fact, Me the Great doesn’t even remember her name, only her English teacher’s confirmation of her superior intellect over hers, 92 girl over Me the Great, that is. It will push her though, harder than ever; into the hollow studious eternity that has imposed sleepless hours of a forever night upon her tired soul. But don’t worry. All of these things will make Me the Great stronger in the long run, and a better person, oh and lets not forget a more obedient child. After all, that is the stronghold that glues American Democracy and freedom together: conformity to the long-standing dictations of a superior societal standard.

One can also be sure that, when the time comes to send in applications for colleges, 92 girl and Me the Great will both compete for the same spot at the very prestigious College University. And, when deciding on whom to admit, the board will most certainly select 92 girl as tribute faster than Katniss could ever volunteer.

That 92 girl, she is just so ridiculously perfect in every single tiny way. So much so, that it occasionally bothers Me the Great to no avail- the chicken pock barely out of reach- but never fear, society. She will navigate through this as easily as she navigated through her awkward middle school years. Well, maybe a little bit easier than then. She occasionally takes a break from molding her genius intellect and focuses on strengthening the skin around her fingers by peeling away the dead as though string cheese, occasionally shedding a couple drips of blood here and there; but hey, nothing great was ever achieved without a little blood, sweat and tears. Not even Me the Great’s Huck Finn Racism paper that she poured her soul and very existence into, only to scrape by with an 84, while 92 girl received, well, what do you think? A 92, a rare treasure among the isles of wonder.
92 girl also participates in prestigious intellectual groups, like NHS, and has numerous hours of community service. These hours are, most likely, through those said prestigious intellectual groups. The ones that Me the Great could never manage to qualify for. But at least Me the Great has a job. 92 girl doesn’t have one of those. She is simply too busy saving the whales and writing 92-worthy English papers to take phone orders from the average Joe. Oh, and she is also much too good to be yelled at by her foreign boss about which kind of grilled chicken, seasoned or not, to put on a salad, especially after she already told him which piece of poultry would be better. Me the Great chose the piece of unseasoned chicken; it simply has less flavor to offer than the seasoned piece, kind of like her.
She doesn’t let that bother her, though. She simply feasts carelessly on her concerns while pondering all of the good things about herself, like how she is good at ripping receipts from the credit card swiper, a very handy and useful real world skill. After all, America wouldn’t want to be forced to suffer an epidemic of imperfectly torn receipts; that would be tragic. And from the fear of this great nation facing such a traumatic discourse, Me the Great feasts once more on her favorite food in the entire world to cheer her up and comfort her: her beloved string cheese and ketchup.
Hello. My name is Me the Great. I am a master receipt ripper and perfectly perfect little miss not as perfect as little miss perfect.