โWe need to talk,โ Lucy says.
Sheโs sitting on the couch, mascara streaked down her cheeks.ย Oh, shit.
I drop my purse and rush over to her. As soon as I sit down next to her, she starts crying.
โWhatโs wrong? Did Alex break up with you?โ
She starts shaking her head and then I really start freaking out.ย Please donโt say cancer. I grab her hand, and thatโs when I see it. โLucy! Youโre engaged?โ
She nods. โIโm sorry. I know we still have six months left on the lease, but he wants me to move in with him.โ
I stare at her for a minute.ย Is that why sheโs crying? Because she wants out of her lease?ย She reaches for a tissue and starts dabbing at her eyes. โI feel awful, Lily. Youโre going to be all alone. Iโm moving and you wonโt haveย anyone.โ
What the . . .
โLucy? Um . . . Iโll be ๏ฌne. I promise.โ
She looks up at me with hope in her expression. โReally?โ
Why in the world does she have this impression of me?ย I nod again. โYes. Iโm not mad, Iโm happy for you.โ
She throws her arms around me and hugs me. โOh, thank you, Lily!โ She starts giggling in between bouts of tears. When she releases me, she jumps up and says, โI have to go tell Alex! He was so worried you wouldnโt let me out of my lease!โ She grabs her purse and shoes and disappears out the front door.
I lie back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling.ย Did she just
play me?
I start laughing, because until this moment, I had no idea how much Iโve been waiting for this to happen.ย The whole place to myself!
Whatโs even better, is when I do decide to have sex with Ryle, we can have it over here all the time and not have to worry about
being quiet.
The last time I spoke to Ryle was when I left his apartment on Saturday. We agreed on a trial run. No commitments yet. Just a relationship feeler to see if itโs something we both want. Itโs now Monday night and Iโm a little disappointed I havenโt heard from him. I gave him my phone number before we parted Saturday, but I donโt really know texting etiquette, especially forย trial runs.
Regardless, Iโm not texting him ๏ฌrst.
I decide to occupy my time with teenage angst and Ellen DeGeneres, instead. Iโm not about to wait around to be beckoned by a guy Iโm not even having sex with. But I donโt know why I assume that reading about theย ๏ฌrstย guy I had sex with will somehow get my mind off the guy Iโmย notย having sex with.
Dear Ellen,
My great-grandfatherโs name is Ellis. My entire life, I thought that was a really cool name for such an old guy. After he died, I was reading the obituary. Would you believe that Ellis wasnโt even his real name? His real name was Levi Sampson and I had no idea.
I asked my grandmother where the name Ellis came from. She said his initials were L.S. and everyone called him by his initials for so long, they just started sounding them out over the years.
Which is why they referred to him as Ellis.
I was looking at your name just now and it made me think of that. Ellen. Is that even your real name? You could be just like my great-grandfather and using your initials as a disguise.
L.N.
Iโm onto you, โEllen.โ
Speaking of names, do you think Atlas is a weird name? It is, isnโt it?
Yesterday while I was watching your show with him, I asked him where he got his name from. He said he didnโt know. Without even thinking, I told him he should ask his mother why she named him that. He just looked over at me for a second and said, โItโs a little too late for that.โ
I donโt know what he meant by that. I donโt know if his mom died, or if she gave him up for adoption. Weโve been friends for a few weeks now and I still donโt really know anything about him or why he doesnโt have a place to live. I would just ask him, but Iโm not sure if he really trusts me yet. He seems to have trust issues and I guess I canโt blame him.
Iโm worried about him. It started getting really cold this week and itโs supposed to be even colder next week. If he doesnโt have electricity, that means he doesnโt have a heater. I hope he at least has blankets. Do you know how awful I would feel if he froze to death? Pretty freaking awful, Ellen.
Iโll ๏ฌnd some blankets this week and give them to him.
โLily
Dear Ellen,
Itโs going to start snowing soon so I decided to harvest my garden today. I had already pulled the radishes so I just wanted to put some mulch and compost down, which wouldnโt have taken me long, but Atlas insisted on helping.
He asked me a lot of questions about gardening and I liked that he seemed interested in my interests. I showed him how to lay the compost and mulch to cover the ground so that the snow wouldnโt do too much damage. My garden is small compared to most gardens. Maybe ten feet by twelve feet. But itโs all my dad will let me use of the backyard.
Atlas covered the whole thing while I sat cross-legged in the grass and watched him. I wasnโt being lazy, he just took over and wanted to do it so I let him. I can tell heโs a hard worker. I wonder if maybe keeping himself busy takes his mind off of things and thatโs why he always wants to help me so much.
When he was ๏ฌnished, he walked over and dropped down next to me on the grass.
โWhat made you want to grow things?โ he asked.
I glanced over at him and he was sitting cross-legged, looking at me curiously. I realized in that moment that heโs probably the best friend Iโve ever had, and we barely know anything about each other. I have friends at school, but theyโre never allowed to come over to my house for obvious reasons. My mother is always worried something might happen with my father and word might get out about his temper. I also never really get to go to other peopleโs houses but Iโm not sure why. Maybe my father doesnโt want me staying over at friendsโ houses because I might witness how a good husband is supposed to treat his wife. He probably wants me to believe the way he treats my mother is normal.
Atlas is the ๏ฌrst friend Iโve ever had thatโs ever been inside my house. Heโs also the ๏ฌrst friend to know how much I like to garden. And now heโs the ๏ฌrst friend to ever ask me why I garden.
I reached down and pulled at a weed and started tearing it into little pieces while I thought about his question.
โWhen I was ten, my mother got me a subscription to a website called Seeds Anonymous,โ I said. โEvery month I would get an unmarked package of seeds in the mail with instructions on how to plant them and care for them. I wouldnโt know what I was growing until it came up out of the ground. Every day after school Iโd run straight to the backyard to see the progress. It gave me something to look forward to. Growing things felt like a reward.โ
I could feel Atlas staring at me when he asked, โA reward for what?โ
I shrugged. โFor loving my plants the right way. Plants reward you based on the amount of love you show them. If youโre cruel to them or neglect them, they give you nothing. But if you care for them and love them the right way, they reward you with gifts in the form of vegetables or fruits or ๏ฌowers.โ I looked down at the weed I was tearing apart in my hands and there was barely an inch left of it. I wadded it up between my ๏ฌngers and ๏ฌicked it.
I didnโt want to look over at Atlas because I could still feel him staring, so instead, I just stared out over my mulch-covered garden.
โWeโre just alike,โ he said.
My eyes ๏ฌicked to his. โMe and you?โ
He shook his head. โNo. Plants and humans. Plants need to be loved the right way in order to survive. So do humans. We rely on our parents from birth to love us enough to keep us alive. And if our parents show us the right kind of love, we turn out as better humans overall. But if weโre neglected . . .โ
His voice grew quiet. Almost sad. He wiped his hands on his knees, trying to get some of the dirt off. โIf weโre neglected, we end up homeless and incapable of anything meaningful.โ
His words made my heart feel like the mulch he had just laid out. I didnโt even know what to say to that. Does he really think that about himself?
He acted like he was about to get up, but before he did I said his name.
He sat back down in the grass. I pointed at the row of trees that lined the fence to the left of the yard. โYou see that tree over there?โ In the middle of the row of trees was an oak tree that stood taller than all the rest of the trees.
Atlas glanced over at it and dragged his eyes all the way up to the top of the tree.
โIt grew on its own,โ I said. โMost plants do need a lot of care to survive. But some things, like trees, are strong enough to do it by just relying on themselves and nobody else.โ
I had no idea if he knew what I was trying to say without me coming out and saying it. But I just wanted him to know that I thought he was strong enough to survive whatever was going on in his life. I didnโt know him well, but I could tell he was resilient. Way more than I would ever be if I were in his situation.
His eyes were glued to the tree. It was a long time before he even blinked. When he ๏ฌnally did, he just nodded a little and looked down at the grass. I thought with the way his mouth twitched that he was about to frown, but instead he actually smiled a little.
Seeing that smile made my heart feel like I had just startled it right out of a dead sleep.
โWeโre just alike,โ he said, repeating himself from earlier. โPlants and humans?โ I asked.
He shook his head. โNo. Me and you.โ
I gasped, Ellen. I hope he didnโt notice, but I de๏ฌnitely sucked in a rush of air. Because what the heck was I supposed to say to that?
I just sat there, really awkward and quiet until he stood up. He turned like he was about to walk home.
โAtlas, wait.โ
He glanced back down at me. I pointed at his hands and said, โYou might want to take a quick shower before you go back. Compost is made from cow manure.โ
He lifted his hands and looked down at them and then he looked down at his compost-covered clothes.
โCow manure? Seriously?โ
I grinned and nodded. He laughed a little and then before I knew it, he was on the ground next to me, wiping his hands all over me. We were both laughing as he reached to the bag next to us and stuck his hand inside, then smeared it down my arms.
Ellen, I am con๏ฌdent that the next sentence I am about to write has never been written or spoken aloud before.
When he was wiping that cow shit on me, it was quite possibly the most turned-on I have ever been.
After a few minutes, we were both lying on the ground, breathing hard, still laughing. He ๏ฌnally stood up and pulled me to my feet, knowing he
couldnโt waste minutes if he wanted a shower before my parents came home.
Once he was in the shower, I washed my hands in the sink and just stood there, wondering what he meant earlier when he said we were just alike.
Was it a compliment? It sure felt like one. Was he saying that he thought I was strong, too? Because I certainly didnโt feel strong most of the time. In that moment, just thinking about him made me feel weak. I wondered what I was going to do about the way I was starting to feel when I was around him.
I also wondered how long I can keep hiding him from my parents. And how long heโll be staying at that house. Winters in Maine are unbearably cold and he wonโt survive without a heater.
Or blankets.
I gathered myself and went in search of all the spare blankets I could ๏ฌnd. I was going to give them to him when he got out of the shower, but it was already ๏ฌve and he left in a hurry.
Iโll give them to him tomorrow.
โLily
Dear Ellen,
Harry Connick Jr. is freaking hilarious. Iโm not sure if youโve ever had him on your show, because I hate to admit Iโve probably missed an episode or two since youโve been on the air, but if youโve never had him, you should. Actually, have you ever watchedย Late Night with Conan OโBrien? He has this guy named Andy who sits on the couch for every episode. I wish Harry could sit on your couch for every episode. He just has the best one-liners, and the two of you toget.her would be epic.
I just want to say thank you. I know that you donโt have a show on TV for the sole purpose of making me laugh, but sometimes it feels that way. Sometimes my life just makes me feel like Iโve lost the ability to laugh or smile, but then I turn on your show and no matter what mood Iโm in when I turn on the TV, I always feel better by the time your show is over.
So yeah. Thanks for that.
I know you probably want an update on Atlas, and Iโll give you one in a second. But ๏ฌrst I need to tell you about what happened yesterday.
My mother is a teaching assistant over at Brimer Elementary. Itโs a bit of a drive and thatโs why she never gets home until around ๏ฌve oโclock. My dad works two miles from here, so heโs always home right after ๏ฌve.
We have a garage, but only one car can ๏ฌt in it because of all my dadโs stuff. My dad keeps his car in the garage and my mom keeps her car in the driveway.
Well, yesterday my mom got home a little bit early. Atlas was still at the house and we were almost ๏ฌnished watching your show when I heard the garage door start to open. He ran out the back door and I rushed around the living room cleaning up our soda cans and snacks.
It had started snowing really hard around lunchtime yesterday and my mother had a lot of stuff to carry in, so she pulled up in the garage so she could bring it all in through the kitchen door. It was work stuff and a few groceries. I was helping her bring everything inside when my dad pulled up in the driveway. He started honking his horn because he was mad that my mom was parked in the garage. I guess he didnโt want to have to get out of his car in the snow. Thatโs the only thing I can think of that would make him want her to move her car right then and there, instead of just waiting until she was ๏ฌnished unloading it. Come to think of it, why does my father always get the garage? You would think a man wouldnโt want the woman he loves to get the shittier parking spot.
Anyway, my mother got that real scared look in her eye when he started honking and she told me to take all her stuff to the table while she moved her car out.
Iโm not sure what happened when she went back outside. I heard a crash, and then I heard her scream, so I ran to the garage thinking maybe she had slipped on ice.
Ellen . . . I donโt even want to describe what happened next. Iโm still a little shocked by the whole thing.
I opened the garage door and didnโt see my mom. I just saw my dad behind the car doing something. I took a step closer and realized why I couldnโt see my mom. He had her pushed down on the hood with his hands around her throat.
He was choking her, Ellen!
I might cry just thinking about it. He was yelling at her, staring down at her with so much hatred. Something about not having respect for how hard he works. I donโt know why he was mad, really, because all I could hear was her silence while she struggled to breathe. The next few minutes are a blur, but I know I started screaming at him. I jumped on his back and I was hitting him on the side of his head.
Then I wasnโt.
I donโt really know what happened, but Iโm guessing he threw me off of him. I just remembered one second I was on his back and the next second I was on the ground and my forehead hurt like you wouldnโt believe. My mom was sitting next to me, holding my head and telling me she was sorry. I looked around for my dad, but he wasnโt there. Heโd gotten into his car and drove off after I hit my head.
My mom gave me a rag and told me to hold it to my head because it was bleeding and then she helped me to her car and drove me to the hospital. On the way there she only said one thing to me.
โWhen they ask you what happened, tell them you slipped on the ice.โ When she said that, I just looked out my window and started crying.
Because I thought for sure this was the ๏ฌnal straw. That she would leave him now that he had hurt me. That was the moment I realized that sheโd never leave him. I felt so defeated, but I was too scared to say anything to her about it.
I had to get nine stitches in my forehead. Iโm still not sure what I hit my head on, but it doesnโt really matter. The fact is, my father was the reason I was hurt and he didnโt even stay and check on me. He just left us both there on the ๏ฌoor of the garage and left.
I got home really late last night and fell right to sleep because they had given me some kind of pain pill.
This morning when I walked to the bus, I tried not to look directly at Atlas so he wouldnโt see my forehead. I had ๏ฌxed my hair so that you couldnโt really see it and he didnโt notice right away. When we sat down next to each other on the bus, our hands touched when we were putting our stuff on the ๏ฌoor.
His hands were like ice, Ellen. Ice.
Thatโs when I realized that I forgot to give him the blankets I had pulled out for him yesterday because my mother got home sooner than I expected. The incident in the garage sort of took over all my thoughts and I completely forgot about him. It had snowed and iced all night and he had been over there at that house in the dark all by himself. And now he was so cold, I didnโt know how he was even functioning.
I grabbed both of his hands in mine and said, โAtlas. Youโre freezing.โ
He didnโt say anything. I just started rubbing his hands in mine to warm them up. I laid my head on his shoulder and then I did the most embarrassing thing. I just started to cry. I donโt cry very much, but I was still so upset by what happened yesterday and then I was feeling so guilty
that I forgot to take him blankets and it all hit me right there on the ride to school. He didnโt say anything. He just pulled his hands from mine so Iโd stop rubbing them and then he laid his hands on top of mine. We just sat there like that the whole ride to school with our heads leaned together and his hands on top of mine.
I might have thought it was sweet if it wasnโt so sad.
On the ride home from school is when he ๏ฌnally noticed my head.
Honestly, I had forgotten about it. No one at school even asked me about it and when he sat down next to me on the bus, I wasnโt even trying to hide it with my hair. He looked right at me and said, โWhat happened to your head?โ
I didnโt know what to say to him. I just touched it with my ๏ฌngers and then looked out the window. Iโve been trying to get him to trust me more in hopes he would tell me why he doesnโt have a place to live, so I didnโt want to lie to him. I just didnโt want to tell him the truth, either.
When the bus started moving, he said, โYesterday after I left your house, I heard something going on over there. I heard yelling. I heard you scream, and then I saw your father leave. I was going to come check on you to make sure everything was okay, but as I was walking over I saw you leaving in the car with your mother.โ
He must have heard the ๏ฌght in the garage and saw her leaving to take me to get the stitches. I couldnโt believe he came over to our house. Do you know what my dad would do to him if he saw him wearing his clothes? I got so worried for him because I donโt think he knows what my father is capable of.
I looked at him and said, โAtlas, you canโt do that! You canโt come to
my house when my parents are home!โ
Atlas got real quiet and then said, โI heard you scream, Lily.โ He said it like me being in danger trumped anything else.
I felt bad because I know he was just trying to help, but that would have made things so much worse.
โI fell,โ I said to him. As soon as I said it, I felt bad for lying. And to be honest, he looked a little disappointed in me, because I think we both knew in that moment that it wasnโt as simple as a fall.
Then he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and held out his arm.
Ellen, my stomach dropped. It was so bad. All over his arm he had these small scars. Some of the scars looked just like someone had stuck a cigarette to his arm and held it there.
He twisted his arm around so I could see that it was on the other side, too. โI used to fall a lot, too, Lily.โ Then he pulled his shirtsleeve down and didnโt say anything else.
For a second I wanted to tell him it wasnโt like thatโthat my dad never hurts me and that he was just trying to get me off of him. But then I realized Iโd be using the same excuses my mom uses.
I felt a little embarrassed that he knows what goes on at my house. I spent the whole rest of the bus ride looking out the window because I didnโt know what to say to him.
When we got home, my momโs car was there. In the driveway, of course.
Not the garage.
That meant Atlas couldnโt come over and watch your show with me. I was gonna tell him I would bring him blankets later, but when he got off the bus he didnโt even tell me bye. He just started walking down the street like he was mad.
Itโs dark now and Iโm waiting on my parents to go to sleep. But in a little while Iโm gonna take him some blankets.
โLily
Dear Ellen,
Iโm in way over my head.
Do you ever do things you know are wrong, but are somehow also right? I donโt know how to put it in simpler terms than that.
I mean, Iโm only ๏ฌfteen and I certainly shouldnโt have boys spending the night in my bedroom. But if a person knows someone needs a place to stay, isnโt it that personโs responsibility as a human to help them?
Last night after my parents went to sleep, I snuck out the back door to take Atlas those blankets. I took a ๏ฌashlight with me because it was dark. It was still snowing really hard, so by the time I made it to that house, I was freezing. I beat on the back door and as soon as he opened it, I pushed past him to get out of the cold.
Only . . . I didnโt get out of the cold. Somehow, it felt even colder inside that old house. I still had my ๏ฌashlight on and I shined it around the living room and kitchen. There wasnโt anything in there, Ellen!
No couch, no chair, no mattress. I handed the blankets off to him and kept looking around me. There was a big hole in the roof over the kitchen and wind and snow were just pouring in. When I shined my light around the living room, I saw his stuff in one of the corners. His backpack, plus the
backpack Iโd given him. There was a little pile of other stuff Iโd given him, like some of my dadโs clothes. And then there were two towels on the ๏ฌoor. One I guess he laid on and one he covered up with.
I put my hand over my mouth because I was so horri๏ฌed. Heโd been there living like that for weeks!
Atlas put his hand on my back and tried to walk me back out the door. โYou shouldnโt be over here, Lily,โ he said. โYou could get in trouble.โ
Thatโs when I grabbed his hand and said, โYou shouldnโt be here, either.โ I started to pull him out the front door with me, but he yanked his hand back. Thatโs when I said, โYou can sleep on my ๏ฌoor tonight. Iโll keep my bedroom door locked. You canโt sleep here, Atlas. Itโs too cold and youโll get pneumonia and die.โ
He looked like he didnโt know what to do. Iโm sure the thought of being caught in my bedroom was just as scary as getting pneumonia and dying. He looked back at his spot in the living room and then he just nodded his head once and said, โOkay.โ
So you tell me, Ellen. Was I wrong letting him sleep in my room last night? It doesnโt feel wrong. It felt like the right thing to do. But I sure would get in a lot of trouble if we had been caught. He slept on the ๏ฌoor, so itโs not like it was anything more than me just giving him somewhere warm to sleep.
I did learn a little more about him last night. After I snuck him in the back door and to my room, I locked my door and made a pallet for him on the ๏ฌoor next to my bed. I set the alarm for 6 a.m. and told him heโd have to get up and leave before my parents woke up, since sometimes my mom wakes me up in the mornings.
I crawled in my bed and scooted over to the edge of it so I could look down at him while we talked for a little while. I asked him how long he thought he might stay there and he said he didnโt know. Thatโs when I asked him how he ended up there. My lamp was still on, and we were whispering, but he got real quiet when I said that. He just stared up at me with his hands behind his head for a moment. Then he said, โI donโt know my real dad. He never had anything to do with me. Itโs always just been me and my mom, but she got remarried about ๏ฌve years ago to a guy who never really liked me much. We fought a lot. When I turned eighteen a few months ago, we got in a big ๏ฌght and he kicked me out of the house.โ
He took a deep breath like he didnโt want to tell me any more. But then he started talking again. โIโve been staying with a friend of mine and his
family since then, but his dad got a transfer to Colorado and they moved. They couldnโt take me with them, of course. His parents were just being nice by letting me stay with them and I knew that, so I told them I talked to my mom and that I was moving back home. The day they left, I didnโt have anywhere to go. So I went back home and told my mom Iโd like to move back in until I graduated. She wouldnโt let me. Said it would upset my stepfather.โ
He turned his head and looked at the wall. โSo I just wandered around for a few days until I saw that house. Figured I would just stay there until something better came along or until I graduated. Iโm signed up to go to the Marines come May, so Iโm just trying to hang on until then.โ
May is six months away, Ellen. Six.
I had tears in my eyes when he ๏ฌnished telling me all that. I asked him why he didnโt just ask someone if they could help him. He said he tried, but itโs harder for an adult than a kid, and heโs already eighteen. He said someone gave him a number for some shelters who might help him. There were three shelters in a twenty-mile radius of our town, but two of them were for battered women. The other one was a homeless shelter, but they only had a few beds and it was too far away for him to walk there if he wanted to go to school every day. Plus, you have to wait in a long line to try and get a bed. He said he tried it once, but he feels safer in that old house than he did at the shelter.
Like the naรฏve girl I am when it comes to situations like his, I said, โBut arenโt there other options? Canโt you just tell the school counselor what your mom did?โ
He shook his head and said heโs too old for foster care. Heโs eighteen, so his mother canโt get in trouble for not allowing him to go back home. He said he called about getting food stamps last week, but he didnโt have a ride or money to get to his appointment. Not to mention he doesnโt have a car, so he canโt very well ๏ฌnd a job. He said heโs been looking, though. After he leaves my house in the afternoons he goes and applies at places, but he doesnโt have an address or a phone number to put down on the applications so that makes it harder for him.
I swear, Ellen, every question I threw at him, he had an answer for. Itโs like heโs tried everything not to be stuck in the situation heโs in, but there isnโt enough help out there for people like him. I got so mad at his whole situation, I told him he was crazy for wanting to go into the military. I
wasnโt so much whispering when I said, โWhy in the heck would you want to serve a country that has allowed you to end up in this kind of situation?โ You know what he said next, Ellen? His eyes grew sad and he said, โItโs not this countryโs fault my mother doesnโt give a shit about me.โ Then he
reached up and turned off my lamp. โGoodnight, Lily,โ he said.
I didnโt sleep much after that. I was too mad. Iโm not even sure who Iโm mad at. I just kept thinking about our country and the whole world and how screwed up it is that people donโt do more for each other. I donโt know when humans started only looking out for themselves. Maybe itโs always been this way. It made me wonder how many people out there were just like Atlas. It made me wonder if there were other kids at our school who might be homeless.
I go to school every day and internally complain about it most of the time, but Iโve never once thought that school might be the only home some kids have. Itโs the only place Atlas can go and know heโll have food.
Iโll never be able to respect rich people now, knowing they willingly choose to spend their money on materialistic things rather than using it to help other people.
No offense, Ellen. I know youโre rich, but I guess Iโm not referring to people like you. Iโve seen all the stuff youโve done for others on your show and all the charities you support. But I know there are a lot of rich people out there who are sel๏ฌsh. Hell, there are even sel๏ฌsh poor people. And sel๏ฌsh middle-class people. Look at my parents. We arenโt rich, but we certainly arenโt too poor to help other people. Yet, I donโt think my dad has ever done anything for a charity.
I remember one time we were walking into a grocery store and an old man was ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. I asked my dad if we could give him some money and he told me no, that he works hard for his money and he wasnโt about to let me give it away. He said it isnโt his fault that other people donโt want to work. He spent the whole time we were in the grocery store telling me about how people take advantage of the government and until the government stops helping those people by giving them handouts, the problem wonโt ever go away.
Ellen, I believed him. That was three years ago and all this time I thought homeless people were homeless because they were lazy or drug addicts or just didnโt want to work like other people. But now I know thatโs not true. Sure, some of what he said was true to an extent, but he was using the
worst-case scenarios. Not everyone is homeless because they choose to be. Theyโre homeless because there isnโt enough help to go around.
And people like my father are the problem. Instead of helping others, people use the worst-case scenarios to excuse their own sel๏ฌshness and greed.
Iโll never be like that. I swear to you, when I grow up, Iโm going to do everything I can to help other people. Iโll be like you, Ellen. Just probably not as rich.
โLily
