“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself. –D.H. Lawrence
A chord was struck. I sat in awe. Her grit, her determination, the sweat on her brow: she was the antithesis of self-pity. I, on the other hand, was a soft and vulnerable teenager. A Nancy Kerrigan-esque “Whyyyyyyyyyyyy….” was too often the cry of my heart. Life was unfair and people were hurtful.