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Morty isn't stupid.
He doesn't know it. How could he? How could he see his potential through the wall of insults for his stupidity? How could he understand his genius when all he's ever known and all he will know is that the singular constant in his pathetic life is that he's as stupid as stupid could get.
But Morty isn't stupid.
At the young age of 4, Morty learns of something called a disability. Morty learns that autism is something to be ashamed of, and that it's Morty's fault for making his mother cry. That it's Morty's fault for making his parents think that they did something wrong. Because it's always his fault.
“Why… I just-” his mother sighed, her head in her hands, “What do I do…? Sometimes I feel like I've done something wrong. I don't understand how you ended up like this. Summer turned out fine. She wasn't this hard to deal with…”
Morty is forced to be better. Morty learns that being more - better, smarter, easier - means being seen.
At the age of 4, Morty learns the burden of maturity.
At the age of 5, Morty learns of a word named competence. Morty learns that Summer is better than him in that regard, and that, no matter what, Summer would always be better.
Morty learns that no matter how hard Morty tries to be good, to fit into the description of a perfect kid, Summer would always be wanted. Summer was the unplanned, yet wanted. Morty was the opposite.
Morty learns that Summer doesn't mean to indirectly hurt his feelings. That she wishes she could do something but knows what she gets if she does. Summer has lived in this house longer than he has, and has learnt to survive the way he has too.
They only have each other.
At the age of 5, Morty learned that having that knowledge is what makes you survive.
At the age of 6, Morty learns very quickly to avoid his mother when she's drunk. He learns very quickly to make sure not to get on her nerves. Mom always loses her senses. Mom always throws stuff.
Morty learns that when he's inevitably hit - whether by a bottle of wine or by the palm of his mother - that he shouldn't bring it up to anyone. Mom never likes it when the teachers call.
Morty learns how to fix his wounds, all by himself. Morty learns that alcohol gets rid of germs, and takes away the chances of an infection. Morty learns how to hide wounds, bruises and scars. He learns when it isn't suspicious to wear long sleeves. Mom doesn't like it when the teachers ask about bruises on his young skin.
At the age of 7, Morty learns what it feels to fail. After all this time, Morty has gotten fairly good grades, but Morty knows it's worthless in the end. Being smart didn't mean being wanted. Morty learned that a long time ago.
Morty learns what it feels to disappoint his parents. How it feels to get yelled at. How all he wants to do is cry.
Morty learns crying gets you hurt worse. Morty learns not to cry the next time he gets yelled at. Morty learns not to cry when his parents are there. When he's not alone. When Summer isn't there to listen and make sure Mom doesn't come inside his room.
Morty learns how to control his emotions. Morty learns how to school his expressions. Morty learns, and learns, and learns, and yet every time, Morty always makes a mistake. Every time, Morty would have to learn something new. Morty would have to learn a new way to avoid that. How to avoid his mother hitting him. How to dodge questions. How to lie.
At the age of 7, Morty already learns how to patch himself up, how to avoid conflict, when to back down, how to lie, how to manipulate, how to analyze. Morty learns all this, does every known trick in the book, subconsciously.
And yet-
“Are you… aware of Morty's… ahem, how should I put this…?”
“Stupidity?”
“Summer!”
And yet Morty was still stupid.
But he can't seem to find a comeback, because what was he if not stupid?