Open Letter: I Would Care More About Your Problems if They Were Funny


Dear friend,

I care about you. I care when you aren’t feeling your best. Remember that time we shared a bag of ’mallows before your econ final? That was real caring; that was real friendship. But lately, there’s been this disconnect between us, and I just need to get this off my chest. The other day, when you told me your parrot has the bird flu? Bro, the story was so boring, I just couldn’t care. Your problems used to have such… pizzazz. But recently, I’ve barely had to stifle a laugh as you bare your soul to me.

For instance, I was trying to listen when you talked to me about your grandmother’s tragic passing from pneumonia, but quite frankly, it just didn’t draw me in. It lacked the fundamental sense of drama and suspense I seek in a story. If your grandmother died from falling off a jet ski, or got run over by a mail truck , or got trampled at a rave, though, I’d be into it. Hit me up if you hear news about bingo league intrigue, or spontaneous combustion, or a heart attack during sex with Keith Richards. Now THOSE are problems worth my time.

There was also the time you talked about how you’re failing all your classes and I almost fell asleep. Honestly, join the fucking club, I haven’t gotten a passing grade in seven months. Don’t complain about failing your midterm, talk to me when you shit yourself during a midterm. Making a complete fool of yourself in a public space is the way to get your friend’s attention, not all this depressing shit you’ve been bringing me. It’s been a real downer.

And you know what? Honestly, it’s just rude. How dare you be so selfish as to bother me with these unimportant ramblings? I can’t believe you have the audacity to interrupt my Minecraft masturbation sesh to talk to me about your sick Labrador Retriever. I don’t want to hear it! Like yeah, that’s sad, boo-hoo, I’m sorry and all that, but… come on, man.

You need an outlet for this trash, and it’s not gonna be me. Buy a diary, cry into a stuffed animal, talk to some middle-aged men on Omegle.  Write Spec op-eds for all I care, they’ll publish anything. It’s not that I don’t care about you, bro, but don’t come to me with that weak shit. I’ll always be here to listen to your problems, but if you want me to actually care, try making them funnier.


Your concerned but disinterested friend