The Plague of Popularity
The Thought Of You, Gets Me Every Time.
I excused myself from the table and walked downstairs. I didn’t care if he wanted to see anyone or not; if he could be straightforward with me I could be the same with him—I hoped. I heard mutterings as I silently crept downstairs. I stood on the last step and watched in awe and sadness as he sat on his bed, knees folded to his chest, arms wrapped around and his head down.
“You’re such a fucking idiot, think that just because you’re somewhere new the people are different. They’re the same no matter where you go. They’ll always judge you without knowing you, piss on you because you’re different. Hate you for what you are.”
He wiped his cheek—he was crying. I sat down, slowly as to not draw attention to myself.
“And you’re an even bigger idiot for thinking Frank would believe you hate him. You had to fall for the one boy who’d actually like boys too. Every popular group has one; some don’t make it known like you did. Look at you, crying like a baby alone, like the pathetic loser you really are. No one could like you, let alone grow to love you. Mikey’s right, you’re nothing but an asshole. You close people out so you don’t have to deal with it if they do turn and hurt you.”
He sighed and threw his head back, hitting it against the wall.
“Grandma loves him, ma loves him, he and Mikey are like best friends now; you’re out of the picture. It’s your fault too, acting the part of the asshole you really are. Deep down you know that’s what caused so many problems before. People can’t stand it when someone isn’t afraid to speak up, stand up for themselves, they can’t handle challenges.”
I froze, not daring to breath; I was hidden somewhat in the shadows, he didn’t have a light on. The only light was from the setting sun outside, casting down on him, illuminating him like, like some fallen beauty. I wouldn’t know what to say to him, I was so adamant on speaking my mind, but witnessing this, I just want to hold him. Comfort him, make him happier.
I watched as he reached for his backpack, pulling out that black book he was drawing in earlier. He flipped through a few pages before resting on one in particular. He just stared at it, wiping away a stray tear every now and then.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are; everyone else can see it but you don’t. You hate yourself for everything that you are, but you love the attention, you love the acceptance and that’s why you do it. If you acted like the boy you were that night, so many people would truly like you, not the pretend bullshit you’re surrounded by everyday.”
He was talking about me—to me.
“I couldn’t resist not drawing you last night. The way the moonlight hit your face, illuminating your features as it did, it was breathtaking. Even Mikey said you looked stunning. That’s what Mr. Kirk was looking at in class today. That’s why he gave you that look; that look of pity, even he knows you’re a fake. You pretend day in and day out, no wonder the only friends you have are the biggest phonies to walk those halls.”
How can he be so willing to like me when I can’t stand me?
“I wanted to punch them today; the way they openly mocked you like that and you just let them. They’re your friends, that’s right. I felt it, when you kissed back today, I felt it. You didn’t want to, I could tell that much, your knees went weak and at one point I was the only thing holding you up. I made you weak in the knees.”
I watched as a smile tugged at his lips and he looked up—straight ahead—right where I was sitting.
“You’re such a fucking idiot, think that just because you’re somewhere new the people are different. They’re the same no matter where you go. They’ll always judge you without knowing you, piss on you because you’re different. Hate you for what you are.”
He wiped his cheek—he was crying. I sat down, slowly as to not draw attention to myself.
“And you’re an even bigger idiot for thinking Frank would believe you hate him. You had to fall for the one boy who’d actually like boys too. Every popular group has one; some don’t make it known like you did. Look at you, crying like a baby alone, like the pathetic loser you really are. No one could like you, let alone grow to love you. Mikey’s right, you’re nothing but an asshole. You close people out so you don’t have to deal with it if they do turn and hurt you.”
He sighed and threw his head back, hitting it against the wall.
“Grandma loves him, ma loves him, he and Mikey are like best friends now; you’re out of the picture. It’s your fault too, acting the part of the asshole you really are. Deep down you know that’s what caused so many problems before. People can’t stand it when someone isn’t afraid to speak up, stand up for themselves, they can’t handle challenges.”
I froze, not daring to breath; I was hidden somewhat in the shadows, he didn’t have a light on. The only light was from the setting sun outside, casting down on him, illuminating him like, like some fallen beauty. I wouldn’t know what to say to him, I was so adamant on speaking my mind, but witnessing this, I just want to hold him. Comfort him, make him happier.
I watched as he reached for his backpack, pulling out that black book he was drawing in earlier. He flipped through a few pages before resting on one in particular. He just stared at it, wiping away a stray tear every now and then.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are; everyone else can see it but you don’t. You hate yourself for everything that you are, but you love the attention, you love the acceptance and that’s why you do it. If you acted like the boy you were that night, so many people would truly like you, not the pretend bullshit you’re surrounded by everyday.”
He was talking about me—to me.
“I couldn’t resist not drawing you last night. The way the moonlight hit your face, illuminating your features as it did, it was breathtaking. Even Mikey said you looked stunning. That’s what Mr. Kirk was looking at in class today. That’s why he gave you that look; that look of pity, even he knows you’re a fake. You pretend day in and day out, no wonder the only friends you have are the biggest phonies to walk those halls.”
How can he be so willing to like me when I can’t stand me?
“I wanted to punch them today; the way they openly mocked you like that and you just let them. They’re your friends, that’s right. I felt it, when you kissed back today, I felt it. You didn’t want to, I could tell that much, your knees went weak and at one point I was the only thing holding you up. I made you weak in the knees.”
I watched as a smile tugged at his lips and he looked up—straight ahead—right where I was sitting.