I'm feeling bad for feelng sorry for myself.
The socially-conscious part of me keeps saying, "You know, this is an opportunity that people living in poverty all over the world do not have. this surgery isn't even available to everyone in our country, let alone developing countries. Grow up, pull up your big girl pants and answer the fucking door when opportunity knocks."
Then, the spoiled brat hiding not-so-deep within stomps out, slaps that hippy-dippy flake, storms back into her room and resumes crying. She feels like she should get a chance to mourn for the life that she went over $200, 000 into debt to acheive.
I'm sticking with the brat on this one.
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