11.11.11

Random thoughts on a (not so) random date.

I will not be corrupted. Not again. I am not defined by my job, nor the people I work with. I have principles, and a deep sense of integrity rooted from my upbringing. I take solace in my thoughts, my words, my intelligence—and will arrogantly bask in the fact that I am better.

I will not lose myself in your tainted smile. Not again. It's taken a great deal to undo all the hurt you've caused, but the last eleven words of the previous paragraph will give me peace.

I will not be made a monster. Not again. I will go back ten years—a time when the words of  Thoreau were scribbled on pages of my notebook: "Simplify. Simplify. Simplify." It's just another job, she's just another girl, and this is just another blog. In the long run, and once the sun sets for the last time, we are all compost.

I'm hungry. Not again.