An Explanation (Of Sorts)

I had this perfect image in my head: my classy friend and me sharing a dorm; perfect companionship in keeping groceries stocked; even helping each other with laundry if one was swamped with homework. Because, if we're going to the same college, what could be better than having a close friend as a dorm-mate? There would be no awkwardness in getting to know each other. We would already be close.

You get these perceptions of people. Some of your closest friends seem so perfect. Granted, I know longer view Tiff in this way, but that took years. And still, even now, I have to stop for a moment sometimes and remind myself that she isn't without flaw. But even her flaws aren't that horrible. But when the perception is fueled on the way someone acts around you, the clothes she wears, the things she'll disclose. . .

You would never suspect anything different. It's such a seamless costume.

She's classy. She has fancy clothes, reads pretentious literature, is polite and friendly with the teachers that you've somehow become really good friends with. She even openly mocks others with you for their fatuous actions.

You would never know.

I lent her my books, helped cook on her counter, sat in her chairs, on her couch. How could I know how close I was to that which is vile?

And yet, she is still so close a friend. She considers me one of her closest friends. But how much does she conceal? Has she ever admitted anything for which she might be scorned or judged? For which I might reproach her? Has she to anyone without going too far and losing his/her support?

How much of what she says is true? How much is an open lie?

Do the fallacies end in her clothes? How far hidden is the person underneath?