Whatever you post on the Internet will always be there. You can delete your page, but the Giant Archives remember everything.
So what? Here’s what:
A few years from now, when your college application arrives at your most desired choice, the first stop will be
at the station where a student intern Googles you. If he or she finds that you were just like everyone else — trying to look like someone you are not — the intern will ding you. Your application will fall into the trash, never even reaching a member of the admissions committee. The intern has orders: sift out the applicants who don’t know themselves, who don’t have the confidence to be an individual, who are foolish in childhood. Because the admissions committee believes that college students are just hairier versions of the children they used to be.
Ten years from now, when you want (and need) a job, you will send your resume to prospective employers. They will Google you before they agree to meet you. If you have posted a page that says you are into dangerous behavior, they will be scared of you. They will not grant you an interview, let alone a job. They will have too many choices among applicants whose Google results are joyous and wholesome.
Fifteen years from now, when you propose on bended knee and she (or he) says, “Yes,” your prospective in-laws will Google you. If they see that you mused on violence and infidelity, they will be afraid of you. And the most important relationship in your life will start out on the wrong foot.
They won’t see the humor in your attempt at irony.
What you post today on the Internet will be a part of your college application, your job application, and your marriage proposal. Have fun, but don’t carve self-destructive stupidity into the granite of the Internet. When in doubt, don’t put it out.