Smart

I really don't like it when people call me smart.
And before my writer brain intervenes and tells me to use a different way of expressing my dislike, I have to say that that really is how I feel. I don't hate it. I don't loathe it. But it's not pleasant, and I can't really describe it beyond a vague sort of dislike. It's somewhere between apathy and loathing. There really isn't a better way of saying it than that I do not like it.
Now for the gaping pit of psychological issues.
It's all anyone says about me. No one ever says I'm funny, or athletic, or nice, or even ugly or mean. Just smart. Like that's my sole defining aspect. Like that's all that's worth noticing about me. And I know I'll get over this, just like I do every couple of months. It's just that it's somewhat overwhelming me at the moment.
And there's the moment of awkwardness when people say it. It's a compliment! It's nice, actually. But while I may be able to make history understandable and interesting to my friends, I am a total deer in the headlights when it comes to a compliment.
What are you supposed to say?!
I don't even consider myself especially smart. Look, I may be good at all the booky stuff, but I'm the most socially awkward person who ever lived and and and and!
I could make a list of flaws here, because if I'm honest I'm just a completely fucked up person, but I'd rather live in the fantasy that this is normal and everyone else is just like this and so much bigger on the inside. I'd rather believe that the real world doesn't exist and I can be happily peculiar and no one will question me and give me weird looks when I start talking about all the history that I adore.
Because history is just such a fascinating thing! It's written by the winners, and in that there is a whole psychology of the human race, and I may not be great shakes at actually dealing with humanity, but I do rather like studying it.
And to be honest, I'm an idiot.
The other day I walked into the shower wearing socks.
I'm an idiot in everything that counts, but when grades are what determine people's futures, I'm something to be respected and hated in equal measures. And.. it's sobering, really. I've only just worked that out. I didn't actually realize that until I wrote it.
It explains a lot.
I know everyone supposedly feels like this, but whenever I talk I feel like I'm just bothering people. I get a lot of blank stares from people. And then I just kind of stutter and hobble my way to a silence where there shouldn't be one. And I don't talk for hours.
Look, if I have one fatal flaw, it's that I am completely and utterly insecure. I have a lot of flaws, but my insecurity runs rampant over my delusions of grandeur, my sporadic hubris, and all the other shite running through my brain.
You know what? I can't even remember what point I was going to make anymore. There was a point. Now there isn't. Now I'm just rambling on hopelessly and hoping something poignant falls from my fingers.
However, it isn't, so have this post. I'm sick of looking at it and you are too, most likely.