complexities.

the piles of books line the miles of shelves. lost in this wonderland, i cannot focus. like a sick, mind-fucked trip, i sit, dazed and blissful. i don't care that i have no knowledge of what goes on around me. oh, the people will stare, but that is what people do. i guess i don't give them that much credit, but should i? should i give them the benefit of the doubt when they don't give me the luxury of a second glance? well, fuck. i'm just like them, right?
maybe it's the oddly placed freckle on my thumb, or because i only have one dimple and it's only shown when i wink. is it because i have a cowlick on the top of my head that makes my hair stand straight up or because of my scars?
what sets me apart and what gives them the right to glare?
am i just as bad for saying these things? i am.
i know... it's because i ask too many questions and expect too much from people...
i am truly sorry for what i am... the odd-freckled, one-dimpled, cow-licked and scared freak. but i know what's on the inside and oddly enough, i like the blissfulness that resides in my mind-fuck. i like the complexities.
what about you, love? what makes you so different that i should love you? god, let me in on this secret...
the suspense is killing me... literally.

i've heard the voice of god.
and he laughs at my plans...