I suddenly felt I was such an irresponsible person who made no effort for living but had so much.
It's a kind of feeling that comes to me when I just wake up and sit in bed, not yet rubbing my sleepiness, I see dimmed sunshine shining onto the carpet through the shutters. It comes to me also when I feel philosophical after reading a good novel on a couch but soon realize life still goes on and I still refuse to donate a buck to the beggars on campus--"If they at least do something to earn their money, I will think about throwing a dollar to them." But I do nothing great and have a comfortable life here in Ann Arbor, far away from home.
The guiltiness continually recurs to me, and it always wins.
I guess I am just overwhelmed by the poor grade that I got from my econ class which I consider to be super easy.
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