I will not dress up my letters for you. I will not wear makeup for you. I will not let my hair grow for you. I will have plastic surgery mainly because you donít want me to. I will not obey you. I will not let you take away my coolness, my perfectness. I will not give you the way I kiss. I will not give you anything that's mine.
You will not assimilate me, but you can assimilate her. Talk like her, kiss like her, dress like her, walk like her, and say something she would say, eat up her opinions, and spit them in my face. You are a degenerate seeking a female because I would not give you mine. Because I chose not to be your mother. I will act and speak and think and do and be like no one else. I will not subdue my self for you or anybody else. I will become asexual to maintain a friendship with you because I am complete and you are not, neither is she.
You are both part of the society
you hate, on the dance floor, on fake senses, with no connection but lust:
physical attraction to the clean, perfumed, and shaved animal.
january 11, 1998