I'm not denying it. I just don't go around parading my sexual urges the way you do, and I don't succumb to them as easily.

Why?

Because it's wrong, Samantha. People just don't do that. It's not proper. Especially not in women. Talking about things like that makes them seem… loose—

You mean sluts, or whores.

I never said those words.

You were thinking them.

I can see you're about to bite my head off, so why don't we drop the subject, and do something else?

No, Michael, I need to talk about this, and I need you to listen.

The art gallery down town is having a display of new oil paintings, we could—

Why do you want to avoid the topic so much? Is it making you uncomfortable? Because if it is, then I'll drop it.

It's not making me uncomfortable. I just want to avoid a petty fight.

We're not fighting. We're arguing. We're discussing a subject that matters to me. I just don't understand why it's so wrong! What makes it so wrong?

Society, Samantha. Society is what sets the boundaries of what's proper and improper.

To hell with society! I don't give a damn about what society deems right or wrong! Free will is what it all comes down to. I don't see why I should abide by their rules—

You live in their—

Let me finish! Everyone tells me to exercise my freedom. To break free of my bindings, break free from my boundaries. The greatest artists— the most memorable and writers, have always been the ones to break the rules, the ones who follow what they think is right, and don't give a damn about what society thinks. I want to do it. I really want to, but I can't.

I hate the fact that I'm ashamed to be myself in front of others, ashamed of the fact that I have to play the role of the sophisticated, proper, little erudite. The little saint—the innocent child. I'm not a saint. I'm not innocent. And I'm not a child! I'm an adult, imprisoned in the body of a child, and that makes people dismiss me, and chastise me with much more ease than others. I'm drifting in limbo, as an outcast until the age of twenty-one, when society will finally recognize me as an 'adult', and even then people will take me lightly.

I can't be taken seriously, because I'm 'just a child', because I'm not 'mature'. Age has nothing to do with anything! You have men and women, thirty years of age, and they're as irresponsible as your stereotypical five-year-old.

I know 'children' twelve years of age with the mind of people thrice their age! You look into their eyes, and you feel sorry for them. You feel sorry to know they'll never be taken seriously. They'll never belong with other kids their age, and by the time their body has caught up with their psychological maturity, or by the time society recognizes them as legal adults, it'll be too late.

Society silently represses sexual freedom, sexual expression, and yet you see it plastered all over the walls, the internet, broadcasted in movies, TV shows, published in  books, and magazines.

We're being bombarded with sexual innuendo, and both subtle, and blunt sexual propaganda, since the day we first open our eyes to the world, and then society looks down on you when you actually want to exercise that freedom.

I can't write anything slightly erotic under my own name because of this. The images are so vibrant in my head, so vivid! But I simply can't. There's always something holding me back.

And no one's going to read this stuff! That's the worst part! It's meant for my own amusement, my own entertainment. But I turn on the computer, place my fingers on the keys, and all of the sudden, all the inspiration, all the motivation, vanishes.

It frustrates me to feel so limited!

Honey, no one is limiting you. No one can dismiss you easily. You don't let them. You're not conscious of this, but you have one of the most intimidating, most impressive way of carrying yourself, of acting, when you're in the presence of others.

You feel limited, because you're limiting yourself. You say you don't care about social norms, but the truth is that you do. And it's alright, Samantha! If people weren't the slightest bit self conscious, the world we live in, would unravel into chaos.

You don't care if other people dismiss you, or your work. You've never cared about what others might think, or say about you. You've said so yourself! Critique, you ignore, unless it's constructive— unless it helps you improve. The rest, you can dismiss.

What you're afraid of, is what we might say, or think about you. What the people whose opinions really matter, might say. And people might think what you're doing is wrong, and be shocked by it. They might be repulsed by it, and look down on you because of it. But you have to know that you will never be able to please everyone, and that the people who react negatively to your work, and can't realize, and accept the fact that it's a part of you, don't appreciate you, and can't accept you for who you are.

I enjoy reading your work. I'm shocked with every paragraph, every turn of the page, yes,  but I enjoy it because it makes you happy. I would never read stories like this. I have no care for them, but because they're written by you, I do it. Because I love you— all of you. And I support you, fully. You'll never be able to do anything that will make me look down on you.

And the same goes for your parents. Caroline loves to read your work! And so does Carmilla. They're the ones who fully endorse your experimentation. We will always support you regardless of what you say, or what you write.

If you're so concerned with marring your image as "Samantha", adopt a pseudonym. Writers do it all the time, and you can have so much freedom with it! Especially online.

 Once you're pleased with a story, and want to show it to people, choose them wisely, and tell them that it's intended strictly for entertainment and to circulate among a few close friends.

If it's only our opinions that matter, then you can rest at ease, knowing we'll always be there to support you in your pursue of becoming a better writer. Just… stick to your vision, and don't change it for anyone, unless you think it's OK. Write the stories you've looked for, but haven't been able to find. Write the stories you want to read. Odds are, if you find it interesting, some else is bound to find it interesting too.