You live in constant fear of being that person.
So you never wear school merch in public.
Your friends all became investment bankers, lawyers, doctors, or academics.
And if they couldn't pick one, they did Teach For America.
You're constantly asked to check your privilege, usually by your own conscience.
The country's future isn't the only thing at stake during the presidential race. Your school pride is too.
You accidentally referenced Nietzsche in casual conversation once... Then you stayed up all night drowning in self-loathing.
You have high hopes for your future kids' college choices. Problematic as it is, legacy babies have no excuses, right?
You have an opinion on the Exeter vs. Andover battle, even if you didn't go to either.
You've developed a deep resentment for most major publications' opinion sections.
When Jay Z and Beyoncé named their kid Blue Ivy, all you wanted to know was whether they meant Yale or Columbia.
You really wish you knew what it was like to go to a school where football was a real thing.
You consider UPenn the craziest "party school" and Brown the quintessential "stoner school" even though, objectively speaking, you're wrong.
And Dartmouth was quietly, inconspicuously out-drinking everyone.
Gossip Girl made you want to scream because it got so many things wrong about your campus life.
People assume you're much smarter than you are.
When in reality, you felt pretty smart before college but have felt like a dumbass since.
You've unwittingly partied with at least one royal next-in-line at some point.
Every time you meet someone successful, you try to guess which secret society they're in.
You know someone who knows someone who once lent a pen to Emma Watson.
Much to your dismay, your hookup pillow talk could turn to the examination of unjust societal paradigms at any moment.
Despite your best efforts, you still think throwing on a blazer can solve all your problems.
Your acceptance letter is stashed in a shoebox under your bed and is your parents' most prized possession.
Everyone on your freshman floor was student council president in high school.
You never realized having an internship (or eight) was optional so your résumé looks like a laundry list.
You know who Suzy Lee Weiss is and you have some choice words for her.
You drink way more than you should on the night that Phi Beta Kappa's list is announced.
You could write a dissertation comparing the effects of RedBull with those of 5-Hour Energy.
You spent all of your senior year hoping the POTUS would be your commencement speaker.
And you still keep tabs on who headlines every Ivy's spring concert. Yale usually wins.
When you run into old friends, you immediately start competing over who got the least sleep the previous night.
Sunrises aren't special. On the contrary, they give you hellish flashbacks to finals week.
In fact, thinking about college in any capacity fills you with a mixture of joy and PTSD.
And makes you grapple endlessly with notions of elitism and privilege.
Because after college, you realized that many of the smartest people you know went to colleges you'd never heard of, or never graduated college at all.
And at the end of the day, you know that you just got really, really, really lucky.
So you'll always be grateful for those four years of being pushed to your limits.
And you'll always be humbled by the terrifyingly intelligent friends you made along the way.