Diseased

A Story by PoetryPenPal

The Diseased

Loser. Geek. Stupid. Nerd. Diseased. I’m called all of these things, but none of them are my real name. I walk around, names being thrown at me. It’s hard to ignore the things said about you that aren’t true. I can’t help but overhear the whispers that are a little too loud. I can’t help but see the staring out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help but wish people understood me, but in 2075, writing is a disease.

At Hightech Prep, I have no name. Other than geek, nerd and loser, I’m anonymous. I am the diseased. The leper with a pen and paper, rotting my popularity until it fell away completely. I will, soon too, dissolve to nothing. Rot. Sink to the floor as grains of sand. The sands of time that wasted me away.

Rhythms and rhymes dance through my mind and flow from my mind to my pen to my paper. It’s like waves in an ocean of words, letters and ideas. It is hard to accept my gift if insults rock the boat, floating in my wonderful words. People say, “Writing is for geeks,” or “You can’t do it,” and I’m pushed in the wrong direction. I try to ignore them, but it is probably the hardest thing to do. Sometimes I wonder, “How could you accomplish your dream if no one will support you?”

I remember when I first discovered my gift. In 2070, I learned how to write poems. I was a natural. But in 2074, writing was considered lame. So many machines had been manufactured to write books, but they were so boring. I needed to create a story that was my own. So I wrote a poem to make people notice that writing from a human was better than a robot’s writing. One day, I stood up in front of my class and read my poem with a pride fit for a princess. It was the worst mistake I ever made. They laughed at me. It was really heartbreaking. I almost gave up on my dream that day.

Ever since those robots were created, my gift has been forgotten, shunned. For some time, I didn’t even think my struggle was worth it, but then I remembered why I started writing. I wanted to change the world with my words. I wanted to make people see that we are better than robots. We can do anything we set our mind to. I have a dream that the world will one day rely on itself instead of technology. I will write until I am cured of my disease and seen as a normal person.

© 2014 PoetryPenPal

Author's Note

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Reviews

Coyote Poetry

I enjoyed the story. Today writing is more tech than anytime in history. I wonder if one day we won't need to write. Look at the sixties. The video can tell the story without writing one word. I hope writing is alive and well in the future. Very good storyline and a tale to make the mind ponder and think. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote