Gobbled up a bowl of sliced beets leaving a fiery red residue on my fingers.

I took a cab home from an upscale neighborhood to an unkempt one. The cab driver asked me, “Do you live here?” with a subtle emphasis on the “here.”

I will end up killing the man I love or destroying his life.

Mexican and Central American immigrants revolt me.

I want to be a librarian.

Me, sometime soon.

I regained my ambition this afternoon. Fear me.

No one knows what I am capable of. What doesn’t kill you - especially incidents of humiliation - makes you stronger. I do not deserve to be surrounded by financial dearth.

I possess a serious disregard toward the people of Central and South America. Latin American culture is nauseating.

There is an Egyptian Christian woman at work who is ferociously trying to convert me into Orthodoxy. She expects me at her church this Sunday at 9:00 a.m. I must avoid her.