Chewable and fruit-flavored
As you may or may not know, I am 26 years old. I am not the oldest person I know. I am not the oldest person I work with. I am not even the oldest one in my group of friends, which I am now going to lovingly dub "Dave and The District 9". It won't stick, but I had a point. It just wasn't particularly sharp. It's around here somewhere. Under the couch, buried in the dust between the keys- AHA! There it is- I have become an annoying 26. I have become "It'll-get-better" guy.

"It'll-get-better" guy knows what you're going through. He went through it once too, and he's proof that you will survive. Look at him, he's happy, well-adjusted, and he buys fancy cheese for pleasure, for pleasure. He is too young to be persnickety and too old to be reckless. And he dispenses cliched wisdom like it's candy. Stay away from him, for his good, for your good, for the good of everyone that needs to figure it out on their own.

Heed my warning. (There he goes again. jerk.)