I've never considered myself a man who could be broken by any kind of world, though the one I'm in has tried valiantly to do so. But then, perhaps that is its role: to seek out those who would rise above their station and unleash a volley of adversity upon them. It never occurred to me the sadistic lengths to which the world would go just to see me fall. And as I bowed beneath the weight of countless injustices, I thought for a moment that I had indeed broken. I was infuriated--not at the world, but at myself for allowing the world to win. Yet in the twilight moment preceding despair, I had clarity; suffering is self-perpetuating. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to hate. I wanted something beautiful to be tainted, abused, and ultimately laid to waste. And that's how the world wins: instilling others with its venom, that they may spread it farther.

Then I remembered that I don't believe in suffering. Suffering is a senseless accident that clouds resolve and dilutes purpose. Pain and ugliness are not to be taken seriously--to do so is to forfeit control. Those who succumb to a world not of their own design will be consumed by it, drained of their vitality and discarded into obscurity. Those who lack purpose will stagnate and wither. Those who do not do for themselves will forever be dependent on others, and end with nothing. The world feels no remorse.

I have purged myself of emotional superfluity. Regret will not help me reach my goals. No one is completely trustworthy; anyone with any sense has ulterior motives. Criticism and doubt are the tools of envious, lesser men. Never again will distractions pull me so far from what I aim to accomplish. As the world feels no remorse, neither shall I. My path, my plan, my rules. I will achieve my goals or die in their pursuit. And God help anyone who gets in my way.

The only freedom is choice.
The only truth is action.
The only virtue is effort.
The only morality is progress.
The only salvation is success.

I am not broken.