Dear Cute Guy at my School,
Don’t think I don’t see the way you look right past me in the halls. Don’t think I don’t hear you when you call me “nerd” or “geek” or “loser”. Don’t think I don’t notice how you look to the sluts with the big boobs and the heavy makeup, the ones you know will give you what you want. Fine. I don’t care.
In ten years, when she’s still with her parents with some baby and you find yourself still working at McDonalds, trying to get a degree at some community college because that football scholarship fell through, you’ll be looking to me. Because I will be the lawyer trying to hall your sorry self through a child support battle with that girl. And when you look at me, and remember all the times you called me “nerd” and “geek” and “loser”, remember this: I would have loved you. And made you happy. But you chose her.