photo credit: freeimages.com/omar franco
I had a Spanish teacher in high school named Señora Raymer. She gave me a book called The Road of Lost Innocence and told me I’d appreciate it.
The book was about a woman trafficked as a sex slave. I felt so passionately about the book and the author that I vowed to do something, anything, to help women who have been forced into such unspeakable horrors.
I was going to right the wrongs. Vindicate the victims. And make a friggin’ difference.
Until I realized I wanted money more. Sex slavery and rape were replaced with college and partying. A lot of partying. Name it- I was on it.
Then I met a guy named Jim who would bring the very same passion I felt in high school bubbling up like lava in a seemingly inactive volcano.
He didn’t care how I got down.
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