strangely different

I've been finding myself lost in thought quite often.

I feel differently than those who are around me.

In a way its almost relieving,

like the first breath you take from being under water too long. 

I am odd

there is no questioning that.

I ask myself rhetorical quesitons.

What would happen if life itself isn't real?

What if I myself, as I am now, am actually an illusion?

Could I be someone who was made up in anothers imagination?

My mind is my most valued asset.

I am allowed to think whatever i choose.

It's not wrong or looked down upon in my mind to think of some of the things I do.

It's my escape.

I can be free. Not the cliche form of freedom,

But the type of freedom where going against the crowd is socially acceptable.

Where i can wear what i want without being labeled

I have created my own wonderland.

And I am proud to say that I am odd 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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