This is the part of the story where I stab myself in the eyes and find a nice hole to die. I can not describe my feelings any further and it would be utter shame to do so. I will just give you the hard facts.

One, Summer is alright. She is now awake and she is not dying today, thank heavens.

Two, she is pregnant.

I’m at a loss here. I just can’t… I just..

I don’t know what to say. If I start speaking now, I know that I’d just ramble on with sourgraping, self hating and self justification all at once. I can not.

What really irritates me is that here I am, Monday morning with still my Sunday clothes on. I know that this girl will be getting hitched in a few months time with a guy who was standing across me in this busy hospital hallway. I also know that she may die any given day with her health aggravated by this pregnancy that I’m one of the first few people to know about. But against all these, there’s this little voice in me that says I don’t care. I like her all the same. Given the chance, I’m willing to take his place to take care of this dying girl and suffer with that knowledge all the while. I’ll be glad to marry her and take responsibility of their child even if I knew that the father is right in front of me. I must be retarded. I do not understand myself.

Do you know how much you could hate yourself for being a selfis