I have never been one for goodbyes. Or hellos, for that matter. Really, I just don’t enjoy any form of human contact. Goodbyes are especially bad, though. Instead of having a teary and heartfelt goodbye to my parents the day they dropped me off at college, I just sort of awkwardly high-fived them and walked away. So yeah, I’m really good at handling normal social interactions.

Knowing this, you can imagine how difficult this next couple of weeks is for me, desperately trying to use up my dining hall swipes, studying for finals and, worst of all, saying goodbye. Not only do I have to say goodbye for the summer to MU and the friends I have made here, I also have to say goodbye to this column. So in honor of goodbyes and my obsession with avoiding them, here are a few things I hope I never have to say goodbye to.

**Our obsession with celebrities:** The day I am no longer interested in what celebrity’s children are wearing is the day that I die. While some children fall asleep on Christmas Eve with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, I fall asleep with visions of the “Jersey Shore” cast twerking. Sure, it leads to a lot of nightmares, but I’d say it’s worth it.

Caring more about reality show celebrities than we do about humanitarians, politicians or average working citizens is a fad that I hope never dies. My wish is that someday, my children look up to reality stars as their role models. My little girls will learn that copious amounts of makeup and a ditzy personality are the best way to catch a man. My sons can learn that as a dude, they can do pretty much whatever they want because, despite what Beyoncé says, old white males are the ones who really rule the world.

Idolizing Ke$ha and Rob Kardashian will help my future children become fully functional members of society. I have personally paid the price of having parents who care about the world. The fact that my role models in third grade were Susan B. Anthony and Mother Teresa still embarrasses me, and I don’t want my future children to have to go through the same torture. If I want my kids to be popular — which, let’s be honest, is the only thing that really matters — they are going to have to watch a lot less “Sesame Street” and a lot more E!

**Our cynicism:** Springtime, flowers, trees, sunshine and joy? Sounds disgusting to me. One of the things I really love about society is our constant need to be angsty. I love that we all constantly want to prove to everyone that the world is out to get us. Someone smiled at you as you walked to class? Ugh. They were probably making fun of you. Someone asks you if you want to hang out? No thanks, I’d rather listen to sad music in a dark room.

I’m not sure how or why it became cool to act like we are too “damaged” and “distant” to love the world around us, but I’m glad that it’s the hip thing to do. Mostly because the thought of actually having to be passionate about life and getting excited about the cool things going on seems like _a lot_ of work. Plus, pretending I hate everything means I’ll never get hurt.

If I was one to get excited about things, which I’m _totally_ not, I would point out how fun it is that the one thing that bonds us is our mutual belief that it’s impossible to bond with people. Irony is cool, right?

**Reality Check:** I know my weekly ramblings have been full of sass and criticism for the world around me. By this point, y’all probably think it is impossible for me to have genuine emotions. But the bottom line is that I’ve loved getting to write a column each week almost as much as I love pugs in funny costumes, desserts that incorporate bacon and successful slow claps. Which is a lot. It’s been a fun ride, you guys. _*Insert awkward high-five here.*_