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To be a woman is a horror I can little comprehend.
I thought marriage freedom when I sought it; I thought it safety. But sometimes, when my control slips, I think there is only safety and certainty in death.
Carmilla holds an allure, like ghosting a finger around the edge of a flame: the temptation, the beauty, and the anticipation of pain.
“Wanting is not selfish, Lenore.”
How frightening it would be to die, but how great a relief to sleep forever.
What is a monster but a creature of agency?
