“Your life is not your own” is a horrid sentiment. I’ve always detested it.

Perhaps its the fact that it’s been true of me for so long. Living or dying by someone else’s whim, content to serve, thrilled to be somebody’s sequel or plot device. I’m sick of it. What right does anyone have to my life? To me? Nobody owns my life but me. I can do with it what I will.

I’m fine now. I’m no danger. But leave me alone. Leave me alone.