My body is not my own.
Partial ownership goes to my parents. Part to my employers. Part to my society, my friends, and the random people I meet. Part goes to my dead ancestors. Part to my cats. Part to my future generations (well they, at least, may not get any!!). Part goes to my husband, to possessions, and to the processed food industry.
My mind, however, is all mine.
None can hear my thoughts, my musings, the songs stuck in my head. None can guess my opinions, my favorites, my dislikes. None can make my thoughts sit down in one place. None can kill my mind but myself. My mind, MY mind. You can give me ideas, but what I do with them is entirely up to me. You may not have more than dim reflections of my inner summits and sky. You may not have a piece of my mind.
So you all, congested world, may have my body.
You may make love to or infuse carcinogens into these cells unowned by me. You may cut my skin or patch my wounds. You may force my actions or liberate my limbs.
But,
deny me my thoughts, and this body will cease to serve even the meanist of your tasks. Deny me my thoughts, and I will leave you all as quickly as I came.
