"so you don't think you're smart?"
"i know I'm not smart."
"but your grades, your awards, your achievements. could a stupid person do all that?"
"i mean, yeah. because, honestly, do I have anything of substance to me? no. people think I'm smart, but that's just because they see the words and nothing else. all i know is words and memories."
"but isn't that a kind of smart?"
"well...is it intelligence if there's just glamour and nothing of substance behind it? like, i can't even conceptualize well enough to think critically. 'm not good at reading social cues, i have no spatial intelligence at all, i'm not creative enough to problem solve. i just vomit up whatever people have already fed me. words and memories."
"bet you're more than you give yourself credit for. someone who doesn't think critically wouldn't even know it."
"you'd think so, wouldn't you? but no. i'm an idiot when you boil me down, i'm just aware of it, and so i'm only a tiny bit smarter than those people who can't even admit it. oh, God, listen to me pointing fingers. 'hey, at least i'm not that guy!' i make myself sick sometimes."
"why?"
"in the end, i am that guy, to someone. i'm the person someone else makes fun of to feel better about themselves. just another member of the herd. you know?"
"but you're better than them. hell, even i think you are, and i met you thirty minutes ago. you're a standout, aren't you? well---god, you could be a star!"
"there's no such thing as a standout anymore. you may think so, but that's because you only just met me."
"and i already think you're amazing. no, really, i do."
"i'll find a way to let you down."
