second best.

You asked me last night--aren't you the class valedictorian this time? No pressure there. I said, no. I'm not even graduating cum laude. You said, oh. Well. What happened? Why didn't we do well this time?

First off, WE didn't do anything. YOU put on your pajamas three years ago and went into hibernation, coming out only to call me, on average, one thousand times a day to guilt me about not being at home, not spending time with you, and not doing better than my snot-nosed 18-year-old cousin is doing in her FIRST YEAR as a FASHION DESIGN MAJOR. During that time, you forgot that I already graduated college TWO YEARS AHEAD OF EVERYONE ELSE with TWO MAJORS and a 4.0 GPA.

Second, doesn't it get lonely up there, looking down on me? Never mind that you've been unemployed for decades now. You will always be better.

Then, you say, let's have a party! You can "invite your little friends!" Well, that would be a swingin' good time. You'll sit off to the sidelines with my ancient aunts and complain about how I'm a failure because I'm not the valedictorian. They will antagonize me with the aforementioned cousin. You won't approve of the friends who would brave meeting you, and they will be miserable. And when we all get there, what are we going to do? Play with Barbie dolls and sing kumbaya?

Too little, too late. You can't be anywhere near as disappointed with me as I am with you.