She is not good or bad, she simply is. You think you have your free will, your strength, your control, your obsession, your nets and hooks, your stern and bow, your faithful compass, but all you really have is a choice, one choice, and that is whether or not to look directly at her. Whether to acknowledge her, standing there, or to turn your face to the sun instead, where everything looks blissfully blank and hot, discolored, muted, blinding.
