Hi, I'm A Hero, But I Can't

I Know Girls Who Pine For It. They Like To Play Dress-up And Pretend Being Vor Ladies Of Old, Rescued From Menace By Romantic Vor Youths. For Some Reason They Never Play 'dying In Childbirth', Or 'vomiting Your Guts Out From The Red Dysentery', Or 'weaving Till You Go Blind And Crippled From Arthritis And Dye Poisoning', Or 'infanticide'. Well, They Do Die Romantically Of Disease Sometimes, But Somehow It's Always An Illness That Makes You Interestingly Pale And Everyone Sorry And Doesn't Involve Losing Bowel Control.

You Try To Give Away What You Want Yourself.

I Don't Want Power. I Just Object To Idiots Having Power Over Me.

All The Worry People Expend Over Not Existing After They Die, Yet Nary A One Ever Seems To Spare A Moment To Worry About Not Having Existed Before They Were Conceived. Or At All. After All, One Sperm Over And We Would Have Been Our Sisters, And We'd Never Have Been Missed.

Like Integrity, Love Of Life Was Not A Subject To Be Studied, It Was A Contagion To Be Caught. And You Had To Catch It From Someone Who Had It.