My roommate, a recent graduate, plays video games until 3 a.m. every day.

He’s late for work, gets scolded by his boss, and comes back to complain to me.
I always say, “It’s okay, youth is for playing. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
He’s so touched he says I’m the best roommate he’s ever had.
He doesn’t know I’ve long wanted him to get fired.
He thinks I understand him, but actually I just don’t want to bother.
He’s not a relative, not a friend, just someone sharing the rent.
The more useless he is, the easier I sleep.
He stays up all night playing games, and I never knock on his door to remind him.
He oversleeps in the morning, and I never wake him up.
He messes up his project, and I even buy him a cup of milk tea to comfort him, saying “It’s just work, don’t push yourself too hard.”
He thinks this is tolerance.
But actually, it’s slow-acting poison.
Three months later, he was laid off during a company restructuring.
On the day he moved out, he posted on social media: “Thanks, bro, you’re the only one who didn’t pressure me.”
I replied with 👍.
What I was thinking: the next roommate should be just as understanding.