Mo Twister posted this on Tumblr yesterday:
"What made me most jealous? Every year on your birthday, you’d take your camera crew and go see terminally sick children and throw a party for them. I’m sure it made those children genuinely happy, and for that, a thank you is in order from their parents and doctors who put so much effort in trying to extend their life and make it comfortable. But I was secretly jealous. To see your mom make spaghetti and chicken lollipop. To see you do interviews and take pictures with the children. Because every year as you do this to celebrate, I wonder why the same people making chicken lollipop and pasta, the same girl showing concern for the dying child—also on a yearly basis—sacrifices the life of our own child for fame? I was always jealous. I shoudn’t be. These children didn’t know what happened just months prior and the year before, and how many other times before that. But I knew. I knew that these children and parents struggle to stay alive one more day—while their “idol” and her family have taken so many in the name of vanity. For every year you’ve visited them, was also a year you’ve gotten rid of one."
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