You know what's wrong with you, Miss  Whoever-you-are?
You're chicken, you've got no  guts. 
You're afraid to stick out  your chin and say,
"Okay,  life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because  that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness."
You call yourself a free  spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a  cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's  not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's  wherever you go. Because no  matter where you run, you just end up running into  yourself.
Here. I've been carrying this thing around for  months. I don't want it anymore.

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