In other words,

This is my dance space


This is your dance space

And if you don’t specifically invite me into your dance space

Your dance space is your own damned business.

And even if you do invite me to dance, I don’t have the right to make you carry a life you don’t want to carry

Any more than I have the right to force you to get rid of one that you do.

Or any more than you have the right to castrate me because someone that stupid should NOT be reproducing.

No matter how much you might believe that to be the truth.

We only get to decide what to do with our own space.

(Sorry, the Dirty Dancing reference would only get me so far and I only had 2 hours of sleep.)

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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