Squidward dreaded the idea of chaos, and in contrast something about the notation of "normalcy" brought a warm blanket to him on a cold night. An odd nostalgia that he never experienced, a world he knew so well but never lived in. Perhaps that was the reason he resented that sponge so; he had been the utter definition of all what chaos stood for. He dreaded the image of Spongebob Squarepants.
Every bubble blown, every moment of ear-crushing laughter, the idea that someone can be so content in such an unpredictable circumstance drove the six legged octopus insane. No ounce of doubt, not a drop of ridicule, not a moment of shed tears could ever bring the sponge boy down to Squiward's lower hierarchy. It was almost a mockery of Squidward's own existence. Just for a moment, he couldn't help but long for the downfall of that childish nobody, that unappreciated fry cook.
But he just couldn't do it.
He couldn't ever break someone that innocent, because it would have killed him more than it ever could hurt Spongebob. You couldn't kill a mockingbird without feeling the weight of shame the world would anchor you to. Not if a person had any remorse for morals, and as much as he hated to acknowledge or admit his care of such things, Squidward had been that person….or sea creature for the lack of better terms.
Squidward dreaded the idea of chaos, but he resented the murder of innocence by tenfold. In contrast to himself, Spongebob was exactly what Bikini Bottom needed. He was the kind of light Squidward needed. He honored the image of Spongebob Squarepants, because that little sponge was a small flame of hope at the bottom of a pitless sea of darkness.
For such a sake, "normalcy" could take a backseat if it meant Spongebob could drive a boatmobile.