With This New Pair of $800 Glasses, My Identity Is Finally Complete

Identity integrated at last. Yeah. What up? No more existential crises for this guy. No more self-fulfillment workshops, no more shadow work, no more sleepless, sweat-soaked nights begging God to glue all my scattered pieces together. I’ve paid those dues now—$800 to be exact—and with these new glasses, my journey as a merely mortal man has come to an end. All I gotta do is slip these spectacular babies over my eyes, and Ram Dass and the Dalai Lama can kiss my fully enlightened ass.

Let me tell you my story.

For years I searched for this keystone, this sun around which all the planets of my personality could orbit together as one glittering galaxy. Everyone said it was simple: you find it when you fall in love. But when I asked them why, their answers were absurd. Caring about someone else more than myself? Impossible. Finding my other half? Excuse me, but I don’t walk around calling myself “I, divided by two.” And every other explanation they gave for love was just some ooey-gooey, over-toasted s’mores Pop-Tart of a metaphor, and I can’t stand the idea of ruining a perfectly good pastry.

No. The key to completing my identity was far simpler and less expensive than love. As long as my middle school bullies knew that I was finally cooler than them, I could tell the whole world that the real me had finally arrived. Now, with a whoosh and a dash of fairy dust, here I am, and it’s all due to these flashy circles that relentlessly slip down the bridge of my nose, so that every time I slide them back up I can cock my head back and grunt, “Yeah,” to the world.

Why glasses? Come on. Do you think Harry Potter was the chosen one because he was destined to “save the world”? Do you think Stephen Hawking got into Oxford and Cambridge because he was “smart”? Or what about Spike Lee? You think he won all those Oscars because he wrote the “best screenplays of those years”? Get with it, cave-dwellers. These guys all had one thing in common, and it wasn’t their “hard work” or their “talent.”

They knew that in our high-octane society, you can’t just mope around hoping that people will envy you. You can’t just earn your superiority and stop there. You’ve got to throw it in people’s faces. Throw it like octopodes that wrap around the heads of everyone you pass and slowly suck out their souls. People should be sweating the instant they lay eyes on you, sweating with angst and lust, the lust to know just what makes you so intelligent, so fly, so mysterious and charming, and yet so humble and impossible to hate. And you know what? You don’t even need the answer. The illusion is what matters, and that illusion will burn on in their brains as long as you keep those glasses on. Like the superheroes of the world, those aforementioned titans of magic, physics, and film know/knew (RIP, Professor) that when they slide into their ocular enhancers, they’ll be hurling octopodes of envy at anyone who dares cross their paths.

When this revelation struck, I knew I had to follow those role models. None of those guys would be complete without their glossy specs, and neither would I. It was never a question of my having enough self-importance, but exactly how much would it cost?

$800. That’s what you need to buy a complete identity nowadays. I haven’t had that much in my bank account since… actually ever. No, my mom did not buy the glasses for me, assholes. My grandma did. The woman is made of money, what can I say? But I’d hate for anyone to take advantage of her. That would just be terrible. Unforgivable. Hey, don’t you point your covetous fingers at me, you two-eyed bums. My grandmother is proud to have helped me discover myself, even if I had to exploit her love and her bank account to do it.

Ah, yes, it was all worth it. I try to imagine what people think when they see me now.

“Man, I bet those glasses came with their own private library.”

“Damn, I bet that guy can see into my soul without even looking at me.”

“How many puppies and kittens do you think that guy saves on an average day? I bet he saves literally all of them.”

Guys, come on. Stop it. I’m just trying to see the world a little more clearly, okay? I’m not a superhero, alright? Seriously. I’m definitely not.

One last word. If you’re a glasses person, too, you better toss me a well-deserved nod of approval if we pass each other on the street. I haven’t decided if I’ll nod back to you yet, because obviously my glasses are universes cooler than yours. I don’t even need to see yours. I just know. And don’t even think about buying the same glasses I have, cause I’ll just punch them right off your unoriginal face. In fact, you can keep your nod of approval. Go find your own way to perfect your personality. But just remember, I did it first.