Okay, so I’m not usually one for these kinds of posts, but it’s day three and I’m at my wit’s end. I was really excited to start my trip in Thessaloniki with my roommate, Luke Dean, despite his worryingly generic, two-first-names name. But unbeknownst to me, Luke – despite me having texted him multiple times prior to the trip, explaining that we were going to be best friends – immediately began harboring a deep and abiding resentment toward me, the likes of which I have never before encountered.

First, he terrorized me about following a fake, deeply unsatisfying blog until I was forced to take evasive action and distract him with a comment about Mark Wahlberg’s performance in “Patriot’s Day” that he immediately jumped on top of. Luke loved “Patriot’s Day.” Writing “red flag” across his forehead would be less obvious.

It is my sincere belief Luke army-crawled over to my computer while I slept, followed his blog from my account, and army-crawled back to his bed, whispering in Latin under his breath. I haven’t the courage to unfollow it again, so I’ve been forced to endure the most insufferable blog content online in 2017.

Next, he tried to persuade our incredible translator, Kristina, that he had paid for bedsheets even though he took me aside and said, and I repeat, “I will never pay for those scratchy sheets, and there is nothing you or anyone else on this trip can do stop me from lighting them on fire at its conclusion,” as soon as she turned her back. Truly, I do not how anyone can stop such a manipulative and dishonorable character.

Luke’s worst transgression of the trip thus far, though, came during an otherwise innocuously wonderful Greek language lesson at the American College of Thessaloniki (ACT), where we were making paper boats. Distracted by Luke’s incessant humming of the hit song “Wrecking Ball,” which I now hate, I missed a step in folding my beautiful, symmetrical paper boat, and made the fatal error of asking Luke for help. Grinning deviously, he tore the soon-to-be-completed paper boat from my hands and savaged it like a man possessed, handing back to me a mangled mess that, I assure you, will never float. This act of violence rocked me to my very core.

Luke, if you are reading this, don’t try to deny your actions. Don’t make this harder than you already have. I have photographic proof of your misdeeds, and it will be easier on all of us if you remain on the balcony, in the Snuggie you found in that corner-store trash can, for the remainder of the trip. I’m sure you’ll be able to find enough blog material from there, provided you begin to finally reflect on where you went wrong – and how you may one day, even years from now, be able to find your way back to the righteous path.