Such an innocuous temptress is she who promises to lift my spirits, erase from my memory all pains, and empower me with irresistible charisma to woo the toughest of sirens…but I don’t need her. I will not allow her to be the surrogate of my personality, to bear arms in my stead in circumstances where I may despair, and to be the glue that bonds me to others in the social exchange.
Though I will not be repulsed by her invitation in heeding social graces and respectful observance of courtesy, without shame and fear of repudiation, still I can easily decline out of self-respect and the trust that courtesy is paved as a two-way street; those that drive on the wrong side of the road out of negligence or purely spite, they certainly don’t belong in my social contract.
She is not inherently evil, nor is she pure. She is who she is and I tread with caution when I’m in her affections. My love for her is superficial and though she penetrates my veins, she does not control my thoughts, my actions, or my will. As long as my lust for her is a stranger to addiction, then she remains as an idle tool upon a shelf that is animated only by the power my command. I am her vice and she is to me as courage is to a brave man.