"You call yourself a Nerd?"
Yeah, maybe you wear the black thick rimmed glasses, your hair is pulled into a messy bun where strains of blonde hair stray out over your cheeks, and maybe you get great grades that's good enough to make MY mother proud. Yeah, I see the baggy grey sweat pants, oversized t-shirt exsposing the left side of your shoulder because you write with your right hand, and pure black converses. I see the looks, the letters on top of your papers, and hear the whispers in the hallways.
"You play the part of a Nerd."
It almost comes out as a question but I knew you would take that as a statement. You're smart enough too, you're a nerd, right? You walked the hallways with a your head hanging, hugging your textbooks to your chest, and never talking to anybody. You're always so focused on yourself, but at the same time, focused on everyone else. You do your thing but care what they think.
"I guess that makes you a Nerd."
I give in. You're the perfect stereotype for the nerd. You do your thing as I continue to do mine. Part of me will constantly feel the itch, one that I can never scratch, that it's all just an act. A 'Nerd' is an insult. One I've been called everyday, but you're just a beautiful girl focused on the letter; never on the picture.
"What does that make me if not a Nerd?"
A Nobody. Especially next to you.
YOU ARE READING
Unattainable Ideas
Short StoryFor the ideas that were never mentioned. For the stories that were never written. I write to you, my dear friend, in hopes you'll finally listen. ~SAS
