You don't own me. I don't own you.
My body is mine. Your body is yours.
My physical space is mine, and your physical space is yours, unless we invite one another in and respect the boundaries while there.
The spaces we build—physical spaces like house, and conceptual spaces like home, and virtual spaces, and the spaces in which friendships and allegiances and romantic love may be forged—are our own, except where they are communally built.
I don't owe you explanations for my choices that do not affect you, and you don't owe any to me.
I don't owe you a presentation of my self, a reflection of my identity, a conformance to arbitrarily defined norms or archetypes, an emotional response, or a facial expression to make you comfortable. You do not owe me any of these things.
If you want me to smile, don't tell me to smile. Just give me something to smile about.
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