You there! Young person! Yes, you, the one with the identity wrapped up in your iPhone case, your Instagram profile and your album collection. I see how you complain about your friends on Twitter with your subtle subtweet stabs. I notice the discrepancy between you and your online persona. I caught you being too honest with strangers about what makes you happy, when they harmed you for sharing your interests, how tasteless their opinions of fashion and comedy and pop culture are. I know you're better than your peers. You're unique. You intellectually understand art. You are the empirical source of correct dissections of whether that Broad City episode where Ilana has an allergic reaction to seafood was "good" or not. You're the source of objective truth in a world formed from chaos, unlike me.
I'm just a dummy at this party espousing fallacious theories on the nature of our relationship to Justin Bieber, a man neither of us have met. I'm a child eating a steak next to a sous-chef really tasting the thing. I'm a philistine staring at Paul Thomas Anderson films having my own subjective experience, but you and your brilliant insight and Art History degree with a minor in Symbolism are going to PROVE ME WRONG about how I feel about Magnolia.
Well, as it turns out, this is an argument I cannot lose. Your intelligence does not afford you the ability to divorce your fellow from their feelings. Humans aren't just these machines distinguishing good from bad in a binary system; we're emotional, social, thinking animals; we're complex. Denying any part of yourself is injustice. Be a human being like me, like us. In a world with no objective truth, there's just you and me in a room talking, expressing our emotions, our reasons. In a world with no objective truth, there's no third thing; there's just us. And that's beautiful.
So stop telling me I need to watch Game of Thrones.