Expiration Date: Chapter 1 The Ad That Won't Go Away
Expiration Date
Chapter 1 The Ad That Won't Go Away
I first saw the ad on my phone, wedged between a toothpaste commercial and a scholarship banner that promised a “brighter future for ambitious students.”
“Experience the Best Year of Your Life — Guaranteed. Apply now.”
I swiped past it without thinking.
The second time, it popped up as a video I couldn’t skip. A girl my age spun barefoot on a beach, sunlight catching every strand of her hair. Orchestral music played in the background, a choir of happiness I didn’t feel.
“Elysia Life Design — crafting perfect tomorrows,” the narrator said.
The video ended with a logo glowing like a sun behind glass. I tapped away, heart thumping like I’d done something illegal.
By the fifth time that week, I knew the soft chime that played at the end by heart. I started hearing it in my sleep.
My mornings are the same: cereal that’s gone stale, half a cup of coffee, and my dad already gone for the early shift at the auto shop. The house smells like oil and dust and the faint lingering scent of his old cologne. He leaves me notes most mornings.
Today’s read:
“Rent due next week. Don’t forget to ask Ms. Talbot about that tutoring gig. Love you, kiddo.”
Even when my dad’s busy and tired from hours of work, he always adds “Love you.”
I pour the milk over my cereal, watch the little swirls of brown sugar float on top, and scroll through my feed. Everyone seems to be moving somewhere, where it's college acceptances, internships, or trips I’ll never be able to afford. I spent last night Googling “how to make your personal essay sound deep when you feel nothing.”
Senior year is supposed to feel big. For me, it feels loud, hollow, like someone pressed fast-forward on everyone else’s lives, and I’m just background noise.
At school, the halls are chaotic in a way that makes me feel even more depressed. Lockers slam. Laughter bursts out of friend groups. People bump into each other like they own the space. My best friend Mia meets me by the water fountain, damp hair from swim practice, granola bar in hand.
“Did you see the Elysia ad?” she asks. “The one promising the Best Year of Your Life? My For You Page is flooded with it.”
I shrug. “Yeah. It’s kinda creepy.”
“It’s genius,” she says. “Apparently, they pick people to redesign their lives. Total glow-up. There’s this influencer who said she got picked, and she got a new apartment, a new job, and the dream life. All of it.”
“Sounds fake.”
“Well, is anything real these days?” she says, grinning.
I don’t answer. Her words stuck with me. Is anything real these days?
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