Missing My Happy Donuts Girl

When she's not there to regulate, all manner of creepos start to try to befriend me. One of these days, I swear, I'm going to work up the nerve to say, "I'm sorry, that's none of your business," when some delusional middle-aged man asks me where I go to school, or some other question that is equally none of his business.

So I figured out why I've become such a nasty person lately. When people treat you like you're a fucking commodity, funny thing, you start acting like a fucking commodity. I know that none of these pervs want to talk to me because I'm brilliant or witty or kind or fun-loving; they bother me simply because I'm nubile, and I don't know, there's this weird premium on nubileness so that losers get some kind of sick high if a nubile person so much as sneezes in their direction. It makes them feel, like, validated or something. Well, no more! I will not be their commodity! I need to start getting savvier about people, before their sick needs tarnish irrevocably my faith in the fundamental goodness and nobility of the human spirit - not to mention, before I start loving myself for all the wrong reasons.