I equally resent and revel in the fact that there is no other deciding factor in my life other than myself. I walk forward constantly aware of the burden of choice. I would have it no other way. I choose to be here, but I will not take away my right to accurately portray my experience. Expression of pain is not a complaint- it is a truth. Expression of joy speaks in no way to the morality of an action- it the solely the sum of the moment. The sum of all conditioned layers and contributing factors, conscious or subconscious, combining to form my current subjective reality. 

I was born to be a caretaker, a mother, a woman. Or, at least, the idea has been molded so indisputably into me throughout my whole existence that it is now woven deeply enough to feel organic. I enjoy feeling protective of you, ensuring my presence as a need, intertwining desire with necessity so when the former runs dry my ownership will be upheld by the latter.

There is no choice in this life without a required retribution, so I choose the one that accepts my oblation and in turn offers a glimpse of heaven. Hell with God as a reprieve in lieu of purgatory cut with the Devil.