I’ve a handshakey familiarity with my easy sense of entitlement (so do you – with your perverse identification with the bourgeois privileged).

As I dress up in seersucker and a straw hat,

puff cigars,

and pretend to be the WASPy ruling class of yore,

I know not socioeconomic status, connections, and luck

got me there,

but merit.

One day, I won’t realize –

to maintain an illusion is inherently empty at its core.

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