Rogue

Author's note:

 I've decided, that, since my writing skillz suck ass, I will become the infamous bad author that everyone loves! (Dammit, you WILL love me, or death will come slowly and painfully upon your doomed head)

Really, I just don't want to waste another account. I have about 40 various accounts over the web and I use about 3 of them. So… yeah.(Yes, I KNOW that's really bad of me)

Uh… about this story:

It's a musing (for lack of a better word) by the loverly Rogue that totally contradicts itself and makes no sense whatsoever.

And yet, though, I am strangely somewhat-almost-don't wanna kill my self for writing it proud of it.

…

If that made any sense, you need help.

By the way, I have always imagined Rogue as having a hard life and blah-blah-blah. If you disagree with me, too bad. You're in Caca-verse, now!

So onto my unbearably mediocre (and short -_-) story!

Oh, and P.S, I use the words "touch" and "ass" a lot.  Hee-hee.

           Of all the freaks in the world, I am the freakiest.

Completely incapable of human contact, I will never be able to have children or feel the intimate touch of a man. I think God was saying when I was born, "You know what, Rogue, I don't think I want you to experience a human's touch after puberty so you know what? I'm going to give you mutant powers that will suck the life out of people, thus inhibiting your rights, as a person, to touch any human being."

   Gee, thanks God.

To hide all these feelings, I put on this bitch-ass attitude to those I don't know/like and take whatever the world chunks at me. So far, the world has chunked an ass-load of bricks at me. All of which have hit me where it hurts. Hard.

God again, "But you have the X-men!"

Pff. Yeah.

      Sure I'm a member of the X-men, but at the same time, I'm not.  Everyone is so close. Everyone but me, of course. I mean, I'm closer to everyone than I was, but there's this wall. Always this wall. The only person I feel close enough to talk to is Scott Summers.  He may seem like he's a tight-ass on the outside, but on the inside he's totally different.

    I  know this because I've touched him so many times and I have his memories and feelings.

They are so different from his outward appearance that sometimes I think they're not Scott's, but some long ago forgotten victim of my "skin condition".

   It's all Scott, though.

Because of this, God, you have introduced me to a wonderful man, and it makes everything you have done wrong seem right.