To live a life of quiet domesticity would be my death. I don’t give a SHIT if you think it is best for me. You pious men. You think you have any right to tell me how to live my life? What will work best for me? What will soothe the she wolf? You do not know. You have not bothered to get to know either of us. You just keep feeding us with your projected image.
Stop feeding us.
We will refuse to eat.
We want to be alive. We want to explore. Discover.
We do not want to compromise.
That is what it will be.
The death of the she wolf. The death of me.