Cute. A word for kittens, puppies, and hamsters. Girls use it to describe that guy who's tall, tan, and handsome. I'm that guys best friend. No one calls me cute. I've got braces, long hair that curls in unpredictable and messy ways. My arms are toothpicks, my skin is pasty and pale. No one thinks that's cute. But I don't mind. He has girls on his arm every minute of everyday, doesn't matter. He's got chiseled features that make werewolves and sparkly vampires seem hideous, I don't care. Sure sometimes I feel envious, but I know all that comes with a price, an image. If he did half the things I do all those girls would leave him just like that, I've got nothing to loose. I am me. I'm a brony. I listen to the saddest coldplay songs with a smile on my face. Everyday I come home and play Pokemon while petting my cats before turning on the television to catch up on my favorite anime. Everyone knows this, Everyone knows me. What they don't know is he wishes he could do what I do. But he doesn't want to leave all the attention behind. Doesn't want to go a day without some chick telling him the same old story about she loves him, although really its all a lie. So he, the guy who has everything all guys ever want in life, is jealous of and pitied by me, a nerd living the dream. To be honest, neither of us would have it any other way.