Whoa! Genius alert! Sound the IQ alarm! I can’t believe you’re taking a hard class with a hard professor this semester! And you knew that when you signed up for it! We are unworthy, oh cerebral one!
I just can’t wait for the next time we grab lunch after our 12:15 class, and you explain to me yet again how difficult this class is and how intense the professor is and how hard the homework is and how stressful all this is and how a bunch of other kids dropped the class (because it was so hard), but not you – you didn’t drop it. You goddamn Einstein.
You never fail to remind me that you did in fact check the Rate My Professor before taking the class, and that the 1.7 star rating absolutely did not deter you. In fact, it motivated you. I really respect the way you choose classes based on how likely the professor is to make students cry. You must have some stalwart tear ducts, my holy martyr.
It is an honor that you even grace me with your presence, for, next to you, I am an academic laughingstock, the local dunce, the village fool! Never mind that these schools are all QUITE rigorous and it’s not actually a competition. You are better than me. You are better than me. YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME!
FEEL FREE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW UNBELIEVABLY DIFFICULT THIS CLASS IS WHENEVER YOU WANT. NO, SERIOUSLY. IT DOESN’T COME OFF AS BRAGGING AT ALL BECAUSE WE ARE ALL SO TRULY AND PROFOUNDLY IMPRESSED. YOU ARE A GOD TO ME. I WOULD KILL MY FIRST-BORN TO EXPERIENCE EVEN THE BRIEFEST OF GLIMPSES INTO YOUR SHIMMERING MIND PALACE. I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU! I WORSHIP YOU!
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