Basically a misfit is what you're calling me. Yes. I'd love to be an accidental rebel. Tell me what these rules of society are. You imply I don't know them. Or at least don't follow them. "You're a character, Zoe." Hmm, aren't we all characters in Life? Please elaborate. Elaborate why I amuse you; why you chuckle when you see me or when I spread lotion on my hands before wearing blue disposable gloves, why you pretend you want to harass me when I walk pass you.
I like it. I like you. I also dislike you. You're one of the few people I can truly say I'm on the fence about. Someone I like and dislike equally. Rare. More rare than a diamond really. For everyone else I either love to the extreme or loathe to the core. You? Neither. A perfect grey.
I know you to be a good man. An ignorant man. A self-absorbed man. A proud man. A funny man. A cute man. A caring person.
Bias. Sexist. Subconsciously but nevertheless--.
I'd rather ask why you have never questioned the rules of society.
"You have no filter."
"What's wrong with being honest? There's not enough honest people in the world."
"No, it's different. You have no filter."
"No. You're not listening, God."
I'll learn to veil myself. My feelings. Pull wool over my mouth, on your eyes, in your ears. Morph myself into someone clever and cunning. Will you like me better then? Will I be smarter then? Popular? Sucessful? Trouble-free? Yes, yes, yes, yes, and only outwardly.
Mr. Mister, I ponder, who set up these so-called "rules of society"? Can't be God, hm, no, no... not women, I mean, really, we just started ruling, uh, nature? No, nature's getting ass-whooped, we don't know if she'll take it much longer. Men. Oh manly men, men, men. You. You see, I don't conform with your rules of social etiquette. Everyone has their own. Some more conservative. Some lax.
Mine's really lax, apparently.
I will return to reading Fifty Shades of Grey now.