You were nice to me.
Back when I was considerably more of a bumbling idiot, trying and failing to fit in. I was sitting alone (nothing new there), pretending to be occupied with something, and you called me over so that I wouldn't be quite as awkward at existing.
I barely knew you before then, or barely cared. But suddenly, suddenly I found...something in your clear eyes, the way they crinkled at the edges when you smiled.
That was all it took.
That was all it took for a stupid girl like me to wish that I could muster up the courage to talk to a guy like you.
I don't know how long I had that nagging feeling, that annoying little voice in my head that I continually tried to drown out.
It worked, eventually. Not because I thought any less of that random moment when you actually cared enough to look outside your own world to be nice to me, an outcast loser, but because I came to certain logical realizations.
- I'm a loser
- You're not a loser
- Losers and non-losers don't mix
There were considerably prettier, more popular girls for you to make your acquaintance with - I was never in the running by default.
I was probably just a charity case to you anyways. Like I always seem to be.