version five point zero oxalic.intensify.org

May 25, 2009     

(I am in Philadelphia for an all-expenses paid law program. No updates until July.)
Despite meeting me while I was a surly and sullen mute stalking our overcaffeinated teacher, I have a "best friend."

Alas, within the same 48-hour interval, we moved to different darts on the American map.

Although she's plotting an impromptu trip here to "commence the wild shenanigans," I haven't seen her in a few years, which is copacetic because I hate having friends. I envy reviled lepers who can gracefully exit society, whereas I am trapped in it and forced to feel.. well, feeling anything is pretty horrific. Friends encumber me with their obligations, phone calls, and need for outdoor air. The worst is their concern. Who needs concern from people you're not paying? I blame this philosophy on my parents, who weaned me on the belief that friends will fuck up your life and annihilate your serenity.

"Friends" can easily be supplanted with "parents," by the way.

From the outset, our friendship abounded with glaring inequalities. She fueled me daily with homemade edibles as I griped about our teacher not being in love with me. She purchased pizza, movie tickets, and anything I could ever want (short of the apocalypse) to lure me away from my abiding path of hermitry. Most of the time, she behaved more like an ardent minion than an equal, and I was flummoxed why someone would waste their time so unprofitably.

Truthfully, as a friend, I am about as useful as a broken pencil. My best friend was useful because she functioned as a proxy to communicate with people. If I needed to speak to the teacher or a classmate, I would drag her and demand that she say it. Despite my hysterical pleas, however, she wasn't willing to follow my teacher home and ascertain his address. At least she helped me marshal the cowardice necessary to skulk around the hallway and throw paper balls at the back of my teacher's head (and then hastily flee).

However, she was far from the ideal sidekick. She psychoanalyzed me EVERY DAY and likened me to Daria, gleefully taking pride in 'snatching' the real life analogue. (I am not like Daria. Daria makes boring girls look cool. I confirm the prevailing assumption that they are unlikeable). While free psychoanalysis has its benefits, it really maddened me to receive daily reports on my sanity. She had an impression of me as a sort of book-eating neurotic that shunned the world (so not me, give me cake and a remote). She also sent me creepy cellphone pictures of everyone bearing a remote resemblance to me. My inbox needs no more befuddled portraits of South Asian girls in South Carolina.

Beyond that, she was one of the few weirdos who 1) listened to me carp about my unceasing hunger and 2) toiled in her kitchen and brought food to school to placate my appetite.

She was also just so intent on befriending me, which resulted in myriad allegations that she was merely trying to excavate my character defects so she could malign me publicly. I believe this paranoia fell under 'neuroses' and bolstered her desire to friend me.

Admittedly, I was so unnerved by her enthusiasm to befriend me that I implored her to terminate our friendship and even offered to find her new friends. This prompted her to say: "They're, how can I put it, normal in terms of sociability. I don't find it as appealing as your dysfunction." More alarmed, I begged her to go away. "No, buddy! It's like Goldilocks with the porridge. You're just right."

Despite being unworthy of her excessive concern and friendship, my friend sends me many packages. I ask her not to, but I cannot say no to food, to the point where my mother said that I perhaps need to stop acting like a pathetic beggar who lets fawning Americans feed her. Recent packages have included:

The last treat is actually for my mother, who has been bemoaning the lack of garbanzos here. Unfortunately, like most Pakistanis, my mother has issues accepting gifts. When asked what she was going to give in appreciation for her gift, she responded in Punjabi, "I'm going to give her the shoe."

My mother did not accuse her of poisoning me this time! It's almost as if she likes her!

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