Here’s to you.
This is just a small thanksgiving for you being you.
You’re the guy who puberty never touched. Yeah, you go out. You’ve had more girlfriends than the rest of the guys in our class, combined, though for some reason mostly headcases, and it never really ends well. Still, puberty never really got it’s hands on you.
I think it’s mostly because you don’t have a clue. Your arguments in class are so profoundly asinine that they bring out the absolute star-material in everyone else, yet they always bring out smiles and laughter from everyone around - even cynical, sinewy-hearted teachers who now say they’ll really miss you, though they’ve only had you for a year.
You’re the kind of “stupid” which smashes through the barrier and becomes profoundly intelligent. You have an aura around you in which us lesser mortals crowd around to feel safe in our world-accustomed and tempered intelligence.
Thanks for not being like us. Thanks for not succumbing to puberty and not surrounding yourself with macho bullshit, like the rest of us do. It’s not a deliberate move, like the quasi-intellectuals attempt; you are what they frustratedly attempt to be through effort, effortlessly. You’re cool through obliviousness and a complete lack of self-awareness.
I rest comfortably today, facing the dreaded hellfire trials of my 21:30 'o clock examination, knowing that you’ll be at class tomorrow and knowing that you’ll inevatibly do worse than the rest of us, that we can laugh it all off and move on with our lives.
I rest safely, knowing that though our shared course splits up in a month, you’ll be moving to the same area I’m moving to in a year’s time. I look forward to meeting up with you again.
And I decidedly hope that your year of political sciences – a completely inpenetrable choice, for you – won’t change you into a guy like me.
Here’s to you, Vind.
Raises glass