Fuck you Peter. Fuck you and your constant self-assurance and your need to gloat. Don't tell me. Just don't. I don't care what grade you got, what work you finished, how amazing you are. Why should I? Just so I can feel worse about myself?
The sarcasm, the endless misinterpretation of everything I say, the way you laugh if I get pissed at you or if I glare. Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I'm not joking? Because maybe, just maybe, it's not that funny? It's not all fun and games constantly pushing yourself to do as much as you possibly can, and it doesn't help when you shove your achievements in my face, and laugh when I get angry.
Irked at an Ivy League School
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