I Think You're My Best Friend

No, but really

While sitting on the purple duvet of my twin bed, in the small room of my small house, Patrick Martin Stumph had almost made me lose my mind.

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"Patrick, dude. Your voice is great." I interjected. He was just groaning about how "my voice is so whiny" "it sounds fake". I love the dude, but good god we need to have an intervention with this self-deprecation.

"No, it really isn't. I sound so gross and whiny." He argued, with a cringe on his face and a lyric book in hand.

"Patrick, I've known you since the 4th fucking grade. You're my best friend, and I'm here to tell you that while your band might be named after a Simpsons episode, it's gonna go far someday. However, if you don't shut your brain off and just let yourself sing like you do when we're just jamming together, I might have to hit you in the face with that book." I point to the book in his hand, which held lyrics his band, Fall Out Boy, were working on. He and I had been studying/singing together in preparation for finals the next week, when he just starting roasting himself alive with these comments. I didn't get it.

"Torey, I know somehow that was meant to make me feel better, but it didn't. Not sure the book-smacking is gonna increase the chances of anyone liking my voice."

"Patrick, I swear to god," I clench my fist and grab my recorder, "if you don't sing that stupid song and actually try-"

"Okay! I'll sing. I don't wanna know what you'll do, dude. I know you way too well." He yelled. Thank god. I'm recording this time. He is gonna learn how amazing his voice is, or I'm gonna jump off a goddamn bridge.

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A few hours of lost study time later, I have a full bank of Patrick singing recorded. He never realized I was recording, surprisingly. He just kept singing, and eventually, his voice gave out.

It's time to show him.