You are an icon. You are a source of pride. You are an aberration. You were born a into a family of freaks who just happened to be human. You shouldn’t have been surprised that day it happened. And you weren’t. You were scared. And confused. But because you were already a freak you knew what to do. You ran. As you still do. And you are known for it.
Your nickname haunts you, chases you, even now that you are older and allowed to be on your own. ‘Runaway’ they called you. Those kids you hid with; hid behind. And all of you stood behind the biggest, toughest freak you could find. Toughness. She made it beautiful. And right. The kids called you ‘Runaway’, like you were any different than them. And you were; because they were kicked out, unloved, shunned. You ran. You ran before, before anything can ever really happen. You ran just as soon as that little voice, not in it your head, but deep in the pit of your stomach told you to. But while the other kids called you ‘Runaway’ she called you ‘Rogue.’ And suddenly you were strong. Just like that she made you strong like her. She kept your identity but traded in your scarred, lost façade and gave you one of confidents, as if you were there by choice. As if you never knew fear, as if you were her kin. And you are known for it.
And you are known for her. Your past evil ways. You are known for the woman you killed. There is no Rogue without Ms. Marvel. And there is no Ms. Marvel because of Rogue. You made your fame by taking on the unbeatable, and beating her to a bloody pulp. You are known for her strength, your new mother’s strength. And with that strength came your other claim to fame, your insanity, your mind of tangled nothing that you continuous teeter on. The edge is always so close for you. And you are known for it.
Still you run. You even find friends. Acceptance. You are priceless and indispensable. They credit your wit, your humor, your intelligence. You are not the sidekick. You are the hero. You can be strong while they all have no choice but to be weak, you are eager and excited to battle when they are reluctant. And you are known for it.
Your body is legendary. Envied. You are the source for distraction; you are the personification of lust. And you are most certainty known for it.
You’ve never hidden in the shadows, so all know you. You will be known for all those things but you can't be known for love. You will never be known for soft touches or gentle sighs. You will never be known for unconditional affection. You will never be known for all the beautiful, sweet things all your female peers are known for, long for. While they will be known as Wife. As Lover. As Mother. You will be known as poison. You will be known for independence and isolation. You will be known for Runaway and Rogue and Untouchable in both competition and life. But you will never be known for love.
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Story Notes:
Inspired from the Uder character analysis of Rogue. Just a short rambling written during class. :)
Chapter End Notes:
Ouch. That's just mean. :