Just take a deep breath. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t start thinking that you, a Human from Earth, don’t belong here at the Intergalactic Olympic Games. You may not have a reinforced exoskeleton like the Malaxites, or light-speed reflexes like the Designated Representative Body for Hive-Mind Omega, but you have spent most of your adulthood maximizing your fleshy, pathetic human body’s performance, and it shows! You are supposed to be here no matter what the team of Space Squids from Andromeda wrote on your locker in 4-dimensional ink that you had to get a Helper-Droid to translate, then screamed at it to leave as you started crying.

So what if no matter how hard you train, your molecular structure excludes you from competing in about half the events here? And who cares if competing in most of the other ones would absolutely result in life-threatening injuries or death? You have been training since you were twelve years old to compete in one single event, and that makes you extremely qualified despite that nagging feeling that you’re totally out of your depth and should leave immediately.

Laser gymnastics? Piece of cake. Just avoid getting burned, sliced in half, or irradiated, all while doing a perfect dismount onto a non-euclidean surface held by three different gravitational pulls. It’s quite simple really, and you managed to do it at least three to four times successfully in training. You are ready for this challenge, so long as you don’t move the wrong way and seriously injure yourself, which is definitely a likelihood considering the speed and power with which you’ll need to move to win. Just ignore that deep, wrenching feeling spreading across your torso like there’s a scream trapped in your lungs and an urge to run driving into your legs.

You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone, except of course the trillions of viewers watching across the Universe, deciding if humans maybe deserve Galactic Rights based on whether or not they can perform feats of athletic ability. Actually it’s only like half a trillion because the other half has already made up their mind that allowing you to compete was a massive mistake, according to several polls taken by different institutions! But don’t listen to them! You have as much right to be here as any other species!

Don’t listen to those saying you didn’t “earn” your spot. Yes, you passed the exam on what the adjudicators called a “dangerous technicality” but that’s enough! A lot of people say those tests are biased against creatures that can’t breathe chlorine gas! Which makes sense since one of the events is Chlorine Inhaling. Why did you ever think you could do this? This was a huge mistake, you should go now before—NO. STOP IT.

You are the pinnacle of human fitness. Your athletic talent, years of training, and a team of scientists who supercharged your body through a battery of highly experimental gene-surgeries are three great reasons why you’re supposed to be here. You are the only test subject who survived having a 53rd chromosome grafted onto your genetic structure, and it left you with minimal nerve damage. You are a God back on earth. No other human even comes close to having 12% of an Orosian’s muscle density!

Frankly, your body has been transformed so heavily that one scientist even told you “You may not technically be human anymore.” Living among un-augmented humans now would be like hanging out with extremely stupid turtles. And yet, the rest of the galaxy still thinks of you as a freakishly smart turtle. And they’ve decided to let that turtle try for the Olympics, because it’s worth a laugh, and the kids will love it. But they’ll never accept you as one of them. Not even if you won every event here, which is literally impossible for you!

Practically speaking, there’s nowhere else you can be but here! Because you can’t go back to Earth now, and once the Space Olympics are over, you’ll be an outcast on every planet, moon, or space station. People will recognize you and look away in shame. Children, unaware of the social taboo they’re breaking, will point at you and say “what’s wrong with that man, mummy?” You’ll probably have to sell out and become some sort of d-grade celebrity, appearing on The Real World: Andromeda or selling crap on late-night holomercials. You’ll walk up to the craft services table after shooting an ad for tentacle baths and you’ll stare for a full minute at the Mars-Grown carrots, thinking “I don’t belong here. This isn’t me. This isn’t my life.” But it will be. It will be your life, just like right now, competing in the biggest sporting event in the Universe is your life. You can’t escape this. You agreed to this. You made this your life’s goal. This is all there is. This is the thing you were made to do. And you’re not only going to do it, you’re going to win!

And once you win, you’re going to steal the first starship you see, and fly it directly into the nearest star, ensuring your legacy remains untarnished forever. It’ll be great!

Interested in making comedy your career? Scott Dikkers, founder of TheOnion.com, created Comedy Business School to teach you how the industry works and how to succeed in it.