I held this exact attitude at one point in my life. I wasn't rationalizing away my geekiness. I can't say who rejected who; I think it happened two ways at once.

I did not approach people; people did not approach me. I had a couple of years to hear my own thoughts.

I decided for the sake of surviving high school (this was later) to go the other route, at least as far as I could without losing myself entirely (though I probably lost a lot): I joined a couple of clubs and I met a couple of cute boys and gradually learned to have a normal conversation (I'd forgotten).

None of the new friends seemed as cool as my hipster penpals in faraway places (was I neurotic?), but I learned to pass the time happily with these basically complacent small-town girls and boys. I learned to look for common ground between myself and my perceived enemies.

I never met my soulmate,



I don't live where I used to live;

I've found a couple of kids who know me better, and love me better, than acquaintances of yore.

It's better this way, or to be alone. I don't have to keep so many secrets.
Okay here's the deal. It is not a matter of intelligence, or beauty, or even that intangible concept of coolness. There are some people out there who are slack vampires. They don't often mean to be. Most people who are slack vampires don't know that they are, but they walk into a room and the light in the room just dims a little. They're rarely invited to parties by the same people twice. Y'know what I'm talking about?

I've had a lot of friends in my day but I'd get this feeling sometimes that something wasn't right. I'd be in a room and I'd feel the lights dim. So after awhile I'd drop those friends and make new ones.

Then one day I woke up and realized the truth. I was the one dimming the lights in the room. It is better to be lonely than to be with inferior people. It is also better to be alone, when you realize you're one of those inferior people. I think I'm doing the human race a favor. By the way, there is a difference between being alone and being lonely.

Added March 12th, 2002
I think it comes down to this. Can you change who you are to be less inferior in the eyes of those around you, or would you rather be alone and still true to who you are? The people who matter are the ones who stick by you, regardless of your decision.

Those who become superior in your eyes are people who may be inferior in the eyes of some, but accept you even though you're inferior. It takes awhile being alone to realize it, but you're not always gonna be lonely.

That's what she told herself when she saw the other girls getting ready to go out for a night on the town. They were giggling, shrieking, slipping into low-cut shirts that shimmer and shoes with tall pointed heels that click-clack down the hallway, a herd of immature fools. She doesn't fit in with them so she sits on her bed, back against the wall, door closed, laptop lighting up the room with its glow as scenes from a movie flick across the screen. She's alone, but she doesn't mind.

Friends take up too much time. It is more important to study, to get high grades and become successful in life. Those who choose to fool around and stay out too late are going to flunk out of school and become those losers at Tim Horton’s who just work there forever, pushing coffees, hairnets askewed as they smile fakely and with some embarrassment when they see you. They're irresponsible idiots. They're never going to make it in life, not in the real world. They treat everything like a playground. Also, they are obnoxious.

She spends her free time at the library between classes, using the computer if one is available. There are essays to be typed and research to be done. Her coffee sits on the desk, which she sips slowly until there's only an inch left and it's too cold to drink. If there's time, she checks her email and opens up msn messenger. She likes to take her time with it, typing quietly in the corner of the study room while a crowd of people gather around one person at the computer screen beside her. They're watching a funny video and making jokes. She doesn't let it distract her.

People from back home still care. It's hard to see them, but that's because they're too far away. Never mind that they are too busy to meet up, even when visiting home. People grow apart but they are still friends. Nobody here is good enough to make friends with. They're all so immature that they don't care about anything but getting drunk, partying, and screwing each other. It would be nice to be as shallow as them, but that's not the case, so being friends with them isn’t a possibility. They're idiots. It doesn't matter anyway since there are other things to do that matter more.

She has trouble saying no when he calls her. Normally she ignores the phone, but she's had a bad day. He won't want to hear about it and she won't tell him, but he'll provide comfort in other ways. He's a friend, sort of. Just not the sort that you can go shopping with or invite to special events. So when her phone rings for the third time that night, she picks it up and answers. She changes out of her white bikini underwear with the elastic band and puts on a red shiny g-string. Into the bathroom she goes to touch up her makeup and brush her teeth. She has plans for the night.

There are people at work to talk to, and talking to people still counts as socializing, so that means everything is okay. University is finally over. Meeting people will probably be harder now, but it's not impossible. All those morons from freshmen year still talk to each other. They all graduated somehow. Actually, they're not so bad now that they've grown up over the years. It's too late to try and talk to them now though. Oops. At least there were two girls who were fun and worth hanging out with; they made the years bearable. They are moving away soon. I'm not sure who I'll talk to now. It will be fine, though. I don't need anybody.

She likes to spend her weekends at the coffee shop, writing in her notebook. One Sunday, she becomes bored and calls an old friend, her best friend she hasn't seen in over a year. She doesn't usually try to call anyone, but for some reason, on this day, she wants to. The phone rings and rings, before going to voicemail. She leaves a message. She walks over to the window. There's a brown and black cat stretched out on the ledge, which she pets until she can hear a purr emitting from the fuzzy body with amber blinking eyes. She talks to the cat and hopes that her neighbours can't hear her through the walls. It's a sign of insanity when you talk to your cats too much, according to popular opinion.

She thinks of whom else there is for her to call, but there's no one.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.