My bestest friend must have been confused at the time

Every so often, one meets a friend of incomparable stupidity. In most instances, one usually thinks – and eventually opts – to discard such a friend. Extra baggage, one might think, unnecessarily troublesome and truly pointless, even for entertainment purposes. In some cases, however, it may turn out that one finds some merits actually worth something in said friend, and it may be enough for one to decide to let this friend stay around for a while.

And stay for a while this friend does. Longer, actually, than one would have thought was allowable in a universe where one could harness all the powers of one’s mental faculties in making such a simple decision. Fuck it, one says to oneself anyway, throwing one’s legs around the friend’s back, never mind that the friend’s legs might break from the weight, might as well for all the time I’ve spent curating this person’s stupidity. And the “fuck it” turns (arguably) into “well it seems this person’s okay” and eventually (hopefully) “I actually think this person is pretty smart just a little misguided and way too lazy to start thinking properly” which tapers off to a nice (subjective, of course) “hey this one can stay for as long as it wants I don’t care I don’t mind anymore” that leads to so many scenarios that don’t always go the way one would want, but hey, it’s all bearable, so why not?

What one may (or may not, but compared to the friend, one is so rarely stupid) know is that the friend—stupid and flawed to a point, a walking, talking bundle of psychological and emotional dung-drops—often makes attempts at being less of a burden, only these attempts are so futile and, predictably, rather silly. (The intentions are pure and unmistakable, but the execution and the planning are as existent as the friend’s awareness of the fact that planning always goes before execution.) For the most part, one knows that the friend is sorry for being a dunce. The rest is just a gleeful rollercoaster of never-ending loop-the-loops that alternate between moments of brilliance and moments of skull-numbing and logic-defying exasperation at the friend’s poor life choices. One may sometimes feel confused, thoughts retroacting to the day that hopefully turned into nice, and what the friend finds most amazing—and one often doesn’t think about it because one just scoffs at it and says “geez, what a dork”—is that one still lets the friend stay anyway.

Not really extra baggage, one now thinks, the kind of troublesome that somehow matters, pointless but that’s the point, and at the very least the friend is a source of entertainment.

That doesn’t really make a difference. The friend is pretty stupid anyway, but one is smart enough to cope. All will be well and good…

…until friend decides to stay way past curfew and blames it all on the one particular idiot who was – and is, and will forever be – dumb enough to let her stay for as long as she wants, I don’t care, I don’t mind anymore.


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