He is not my best friend He is just the best sort of friend
It wasn't funny, how much the dude depended on me Help, I was willing to offer, halfway I was willing to go, I was never selfless enough to go all the way And he was too mind-numbingly lazy to meet me halfway
He'd be relentless with his pestering though, be on the receiving end of my insults with a broad grin on his face. Knowing that once i was done with the verbal abuse, I'd regret and relent
He could never hate Nor could anyone hate him He talked often of the love of God , of the sacrifices his mother made, of the grand gestures he'd do for his girl.
He wasn't one of a kind. He was one of the good kind. Therefore, annoying though he was I was glad he was my friend