Slut vs. Thief.

Last night I was called a slut. By my executive-producer, no less. I almost mustered up the strength to be annoyed the invective before realizing, I just don't care anymore.

Society loves to put these stupid, arrogant little labels on anything in reach. We duly ignore every defining, despicable variable that has slowly but surely melded each of us into the creatures we are today- choosing instead to seek comfort in the arms of simplistic type-casts and easily definable brackets: Slut. Whore. Skank. Tramp.

While retaining my anonymity, I have no qualms admitting that I have been raped on several different occasions. Seven, to be exact. And this body of mine- which is so sacrosanct in the eyes of the hooded, judging masses- has been violated to the point of irrecognition. Violated to the point where I don't even feel like it belongs to me anymore. Every time I make a dollar off this limpid flesh of mine, I am a thief. I steal from my creator alone (whether that be god or the hands of cosmic design, I don't know). But me, the composite form which defines me as a person- as an individual- is bound by no constructs of cellular tissue, no flesh and blood. What defines me is my actions. My ability to feel, think, and to love. My ability a million times over, making pennies or riches, and still retain my identity, uncompromised and intact.

But what of you, Mr. Excecutive Producer? Mr. Smiley-Glad-Hands? How many principles have you sacrificed in order to assuage that unremitting greed gnawing inside you? How many lies fed, dreams crumpled, and lines have you crossed in order to further your piss-ant, oily agendas? How many times a day do you sell out for your nickles? For your paltry comeuppance?

Tell me which is worse: Selling a wet-hole, or selling your humanity? Selling a body so already inundated with shame and regrets that another thrust couldn't ever hope to make a difference, or felling that tiny spark inside of you still able to feel?

So, call me a slut, a whore, a tramp- give it your best. Because to me, I'll always be just a plain old thief. Selling what doesn't belong to me.

What I believe isn't for sale.