We have the same eyes. The same shape and color, large and captivating. The eyes take up half of our face and are at fault for making us look years younger than we actually are. They are the same hue of blue diving into green, like an ocean captured in an eyeball. They are the first thing you look at.
We have the same hair, short and wild, or long and tame. It flips out in all directions unless we taper it down with something.
We have the same style. Black shirts with stupid characters and a pair of shorts. Then sneakers.
Then there is where it starts to dive into differences that are still similarities.
The questions they ask, leaning in closer and desparate for an answer so they can go off in the future and seem smart enough to handle these things. The questions I apparently have the authority to answer, all while staring at them with wide eyes and an open mouth, not sure what to say. So I fake it.
The uncertainties in their too long sentences, and the way when they see me they immediately get hostile or kind, not sure what behavior is driving them. I feel it as if it were me, because it was me at one point. I retired it so long ago, because it grew tiring. Now I'm just awkward and indifferent because no one appreciates honesty.
The eagerness, the way they pretend to know what they're talking about and then admit in the next second they have no idea if it's right.
I feel like I went back in time two or three years and am holding my own hand as we walk together, bright and happy with questions and sadness seeping into every sentence. I assigned it all to one person, and now I am nearly that person.
Once a nerd, always a nerd.