Only A Fool Would Say That / by Noel Kenny

This post is dedicated to my beloved friend and lover, Nara Nellis. If you're a hater of Nara, then stop reading. (Or keep reading, so you can further your frustration which probably deep down is just jealousy. I'm pretty sure jealousy is like, half of the reason hatred manifests to begin with.) If you're in love with Nara, which I know some of you are (trust me I know, some of them think that I am Nara's secretary or owl Hedwig from Harry Potter and contact me as an attempt to communicate their burning lust) then you're welcome I guess. 

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I am a fairly anxious and (selectively) introverted person, while Nara is a high-energy disco party queen who talks her head off. This resulted in almost crashing my car out of pure nervousness every time I drove Nara in the passenger seat for the first few weeks of our friendship. She made me really anxious because she was older and never had a bad outfit and was not scared to wear lipstick as eyeliner. Everything about her deemed her a confident person, like immediately revealing incredibly personal information about herself to me and the fact that she snuck me into her loft parties when I was a seventeen year old. 

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Not only did I almost crash my car every time I picked Nara up, I actually rammed my right side mirror into a UPS truck and the glass shattered everywhere and ALMOST into her eyeball which means I could have been the reason for her going blind. This terrifies me to this day. I definitely lied about this incident out of embarrassment and especially to my parents. 

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I think the reason why Nara and I were able to become such close friends in such a short time (like, a really pure and wholesome down to Earth friendship, that I only have with a few other people that I've known for like a decade) is because she welcomed me into her home in my time of need. I was back home with my family in Hawaii for a few months at the time, and knew my mental health would only get worse unless I found another place to live. I barely knew Nara at this point, but packed an obnoxiously huge and red duffel bag full of clothes and set up camp in her living room. 

In the month that I lived with Nara, she introduced me to her talented friends like Mel who inspired me to try harder as a photographer. She told me an endless amount of stories of her past relationships with fucked up morals and gave me life lessons. She would play her favorite records and we would drink beer and dance and sweat in our swimsuits in her living room. She would let me crawl into bed next to her sleeping body when I came home from work at 2am. (Once, I kid you not, she levitated 2 feet off of her bed when I walked into her room because she thought that I was a rodent.)

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Thank you Nara, for being nothing but an angel to me and helping me to love myself and love others more than I ever have. Female friendships are so beautiful. And RIP Walter Becker, because every time I listen to this song I think about Nara. 

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