It was supposed to be perfect, it was all planned out; my 21st birthday was supposed to be big. My best friends would be there, we’d have fun, go to the 18th Street Lounge, it’d all be good. But it’s pointless. I’ll be having surgery, and that’s if I’m lucky. It sucks. I’m so tired.
Aww, Heather. All will work itself out, I promise. Rumor has it that if you went out drinking on your 21st, you might end up with the guys in the URL attached (make sure your sound is up for this … it is safe for work).