So there’s this guy, and blahblahblah, and the moral of the story is…

Slaves are perfect, or they aren’t slaves. Slaves don’t misbehave, or they aren’t slaves. Slaves concern themselves only with their owner’s pleasure, or they aren’t slaves. Slaves are always happy if their owner is, or they aren’t slaves.

Well…

I guess I’m not a slave.

There’s this other guy who saw me making fun of said guy’s opinion, and blahblahblah, and the moral of the story is…

Since the opinion that matters is that of the owner in question, and not all of society, or even BDSM society, there is, in fact, such a thing as a perfect slave… to the owner in question.

So…

Since M’s always talking about how I’m the perfect girl for Him, not only am I a slave, but I’m a perfect slave. Nice.

There’s this chick who I whined to about people agreeing with people I make fun of, and blahblahblah, and the moral of the story is…

I think I’m PMSing, and I need to get over myself.

I came to that conclusion. Not her.

Anyway, that’s me for today.

<3