Coincidencecore Emojis & Text

"Today, after a 72 hour shift at the fire station, a woman ran up to me at the grocery store and gave me a hug. When I tensed up, she realized I didn't recognize her. She let go with tears of joy in her eyes and the most sincere smile and said, "On 9-11-2001, you carried me out of the World Trade Center."

Tomb of Casimir IV Jagiellon 1973 opening of the tomb From 1972 to 1973, the Cathedral authorities undertook work to renovate the Holy Cross chapel. As part of this project, permission was given by the Archbishop of Kraków, Karol Wojtyła – the future Pope John Paul II – to open the tomb of Casimir and Elizabeth in May 1973. The work was undertaken by a team of 12 conservationists and their initial aim was to examine the contents of the tomb in order to assess how best to renovate it. When the tomb was opened, the team found rotting wooden coffins and the remains of Casimir and Elizabeth. The restoration work was then carried out and, once it had been completed, Casimir and Elizabeth were re-interred in a ceremony held in the cathedral on 18 September 1973 with Archbishop Wojtyła conducting the service. In the following months, members of the conservation team began to die prematurely and unexpectedly: Feliks Dańczak died in April 1974, Stefan Walczy in June 1974, Kazimierz Hurlak in August 1974, and Jan Myrlak in May 1975. Rumours of a "Jagiellonian curse" began to circulate. However, microbiologist Bolesław Smyk identified the presence of the fungus Aspergillus flavus in samples taken from the tomb. This type of fungus produces toxic substances called aflatoxins which are linked to a number of serious health conditions affecting the liver if not carcinogenic. The Times reported that it is that the conservation team members had inhaled the toxic spores of the fungus as they opened the tomb.

Terrible Tuesdays ✨ Alexander I of Yugoslavia refused to attend public events on Tuesdays after three of his family members passed on that day of the week. But on Tuesday, October 9, 1934, he had no choice but to speak as he arrived in France to strengthen their alliance. He was thence assassinated.

Terrible Tuesdays ✨ Alexander I of Yugoslavia refused to attend public events on Tuesdays after three of his family members died on that day of the week. But on Tuesday, October 9, 1934, he had no choice but to speak as he arrived in France to strengthen their alliance. He was promptly assassinated.

Mel Ignatow, the killer who died the same way he killed his girlfriend | Mel Ignatow was a convicted murderer who killed his girlfriend by tying her to a glass table and slicing her. Years later he himself fell on the glass table and died from the cuts.

Troy Leon Gregg was the first man to have his death penalty upheld by the Supreme Court after the decision of Furman v. Georgia, but he didn’t die in prison. Troy Leon Gregg, The Man Who Escaped Death Row Only To Be Murdered The Same Night

✌(☯‿☯)✌

Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss..."

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ༊*·˚

📸|💿|📸 💿|📸|💿 📸|💿|📸

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

🤎 🍂 🤎 🎸 🤎 🎸 🤎 🍂 🤎

Smileys & Emotion Face Smiling 😀 Grinning Face 😃 Grinning Face With Big Eyes 😄 Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes 😁 Beaming Face With Smiling Eyes 😆 Grinning Squinting Face 😅 Grinning Face With Sweat 🤣 Rolling on the Floor Laughing 😂 Face With Tears of Joy 🙂 Slightly Smiling Face 🙃 Upside-Down Face 🫠 Melting Face 😉 Winking Face 😊 Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes 😇 Smiling Face With Halo 😘 Face Affection 🥰 Smiling Face With Hearts 😍 Smiling Face With Heart-Eyes 🤩 Star-Struck 😘 Face Blowing a Kiss 😗 Kissing Face ☺️ Smiling Face 😚 Kissing Face With Closed Eyes 😙 Kissing Face With Smiling Eyes 🥲 Smiling Face With Tear 😛 Face Tongue 😋 Face Savoring Food 😛 Face With Tongue 😜 Winking Face With Tongue 🤪 Zany Face 😝 Squinting Face With Tongue 🤑 Money-Mouth Face 🤭 Face Hand 🤗 Hugging Face 🤭 Face With Hand Over Mouth 🫢 Face With Open Eyes And Hand Over Mouth 🫣 Face With Peeking Eye 🤫 Shushing Face 🤔 Thinking Face 🫡 Saluting Face Ezoic 😑 Face Neutral Skeptical 🤐 Zipper-Mouth Face 🤨 Face With Raised Eyebrow 😐 Neutral Face 😑 Expressionless Face 😶 Face Without Mouth 🫥 Dotted Line Face 😶‍🌫️ Face in clouds 😏 Smirking Face 😒 Unamused Face 🙄 Face With Rolling Eyes 😬 Grimacing Face 😮‍💨 Face exhaling 🤥 Lying Face 🫨 Shaking Face 🙂‍↔️ Head Shaking Horizontally 🙂‍↕️ Head Shaking Vertically

დდ☆☆☆•*¨*•.¸¸.•*¨*•☆ღღ☆•*¨*•.¸¸.•*¨*•☆ღღ☆•*¨*•.¸¸.•*¨*•☆ღღ☆•*¨*•.¸¸.•*¨*•☆☆☆დდ ♪♫ ✫ ♥✫ ♥✫ ♫♪ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♪♫ ✫ ♥✫ ♥✫ ♫♪ ༺♥༻𝓜𝓪𝔂 𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 ღ ♥ ♥ ♥ღ ♥ ♥ ♥ ღ 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮ღ♥ ♥ ♥ ღ♥ ♥ ♥ ღ 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 & 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ❤ ༺♥༻Lσvєd Bєчσnd Ɯσrds༺♥༻ '*.¸.*´•.¸¸.♥ 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ღღღ ❤•*❤❤*•❤ღ 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ღ .:*･ﾟ❤･*:.ღ .❤.ღ .:*･❤*:.ღ .❤.ღ .:*･ﾟ❤･*:.ღ ☆♪♫•*¨*•☆♪♫•*¨*•☆♪♫•*¨*•☆♪♫•*¨*•♫♪☆ ♥ღೋღ♥ღೋ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღ༻ღೋღ♥ღೋღ♥ (¯'v´¯) '*.¸.*´ ¸.•´ ¸.•*¨)¸.•*¨) (¸.•´(¸.•(¸.•(¸¸.•¨¯'•.¸¸.♥ Blessingsღღ

Remembering the 1977 Evansville Purple Aces Tuesday, December 13, 1977 was a cold, rainy evening in Evansville, Indiana. Fog was moving in in front of a cold front, and wind gusts whipped across the prairie. The University of Evansville Purple Aces, the men’s basketball team, was preparing to head to a game at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. But the team had waited over three hours at the airport before their plane arrived. It had been delayed due to inclement weather. The players and their new coach, Bobby Watson, were excited and anticipating this game, thinking it could be the beginning of the holiday turn-around games they were expecting to win... With a 1 – 3 record going into this game, the Aces wanted to prove they had what it would take to bring home a victory, and that their young, optimistic coach was right – in their first season of Division 1 competition they planned to be a force to be reckoned with come spring. And the City of Evansville staunchly supported them! But at 7:22 p.m., on runway 18 at Evansville Dress Regional Airport, all hopes for the team and their coach ended. Within 90 seconds after takeoff, the twin-engine Douglas C-53 (DC-3) chartered to fly the team to Nashville, lost control and crashed in a nearby field. There were 29 people on board, all of whom lost their lives… The hometown basketball team was gone. The horror of the crash rebounded around the city, the state, the Midwest, and the country. The official accident report listed the probable cause of the crash as "An attempted take-off with the rudder and right aileron control locks installed, in combination with a rearward centre of gravity, which resulted in the aircraft's rotating to a nose-high attitude immediately after take-off, and entering the region of reversed command from which the pilot was unable to recover.” The report also stated that the passenger baggage had not been loaded correctly, creating an improper weight balance in the rear of the plane. Of those who were, 14 were members of the Purple Aces basketball team, along with Coach Bobby Watson. Also on board were three student managers, three UE officials, the team’s radio announcer, two fans, and four members of the flight crew, along with the president of the airline. No survivors of the team left, save for one member of the Purple Aces had not been injured. Freshman David Furr, who also served as the team’s statistician, had been sidelined due to an infirmity and was not on the plane that night.. But two-weeks later, Furr and his 16-year-old brother were in a car crash after being hit by a driver. By the end of 1977, all of the members of UE’s Purple Aces were gone. Remembering those who lost their lives in the crash: University of Evansville Coach Robert (Bobby) Watson Purple Aces Players Kevin Kingston, senior John Ed Washington, senior Tony Winburn, senior Steve Miller, junior Bryan Taylor, junior Keith Moon, sophomore Warren Alston, freshman Ray Comandella, freshman Mike Duff, freshman Kraig Heckendorn, freshman Michael Joyner, freshman Barney Lewis, freshman Greg Smith, freshman Mark Siegel, freshman Student Managers Jeff Bohnert Mark (Tank) Kirkpatrick Mark Kniese University of Evansville Officials Bob Hudson, athletic business manager Gregory Knipping, sports information director Charles Shike, comptroller Radio Announcer Marvin (Marv) Bates Fans and Boosters Charles Goad Maurice (Maury) King Flight Crew Members & Airline Representatives Ty Van Pham, pilot Gaston Ruiz, first officer Pam Smith, flight attendant James Stewart, president of National Jet Service, Inc. Bill Hartford, charter flight manager

ur phone falls, we panic ur friends fall, we laugh. August 3, 2015

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago myymyy Rollercoaster "Mooooom, I don't like it. I want to get off!" I was a bit surprised. He had always been so brave. I was way more afraid than him when we got on. I never liked to be so high up from the ground. "This will be so much fun!", he had said when we were parking the car. I had kinda hoped he would be strong for both of us. "Oh honey, I'm sorry but we can't get off now, the ride has already started. But remember the small rollercoaster, in the park we went to when you were little? With the funny clown? This is just like that, only bigger. And remember how AWESOME it was?" My son looked at me with watery eyes. He had been so excited about this. I tried to swallow my own nervousness and keep talking to calm him down. My voice was shaking a bit, but I managed to put on a smile. "It's okay, it's okay. You might feel a bit funny in your stomach. It's because of the speed and the changes in the force that pushes you. It's normal! Listen, do you hear? Other people are scared too." He looked at me with his kind, blue eyes and nodded. Just barely. I wanted to hug him, but my back was pressing to the seat so heavily I couldn't move enough. So was his. My eyes caught a glimpse of the sun over my sons head. The sky was so bright. I tried to ignore the metallic clanging sound and people screaming somewhere that seemed to be so far away. Oh, how I missed the ground. Then I felt a big drop on my stomach. We were going faster and faster. My son started sobbing and I tightened my grib on his hand. I thought that he would become such a handsome man someday. He would end up having a good life, and marry a nice girl - or a guy, who knows? I didn't care as long as he was happy. That's all I wanted. For him to be happy and not scared. "Hey, you know what? Close your eyes. This will be over soon. I'm here. I'm not letting go." Someone behind us started to scream. I felt my blood run cold. I tried to keep my focus on the one thing that mattered: my sons hand and my calm voice that kept telling him that it was all going to be okay. Oh, he would become such a handsome man someday. But at this moment he was just a 6 year old boy on his first flight, going to surprise his grandparents all the way across the country. And the last thing I saw before I closed my own eyes, was the second engine on fire...

We felt proud as our daughter got on the bus to enjoy her first day of school. Our hearts dropped when the real school bus arrived moments later... ✨NyaChat

I was on the bus on my way to the mall, when a homeless man sat next to me. He saw that I was looking at the bouquet of flowers he held, and told me that they were for his wife because today is her birthday. As he got off the bus, he walked into the cemetery and placed the flowers on his wife’s grave. A love that never dies GMH. Apr 6th, 2010

December 15, 2013 A Special Needs Family isn't always blood; it's the people in life who celebrate your joys, understand your pain, who love to see you smile, and those who wipe away the tears

Petnochlab ~ Seeing the horrible mistreatment of residents in care facilities, I promised never to let my disabled son end up in one. So when the doctors told me I had 4 weeks to live, I put my son in the car and headed toward the lake, ready to keep my promise.

☁☁☁ 🍁« »🍁 ☁☁☁

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.

☮☮️🌈✌

♫（❁ᴗ❁）♪

┏┓┏┓┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊ ┃┗┛┣━━┳━━┳━━┳┓┏┓ ┃┛┗┃╭╮┃┛┛┃┗┗┃╰┛┃ ┃╰╯┃┗┛┃╰╯┃╰╯┣━╮┃ ┃┏┓┃┏┓┃┏━┫┏┳┻━╯┃ ┗┛┗┻┛┗┻┛┊┗┛┗━━━╯ HAPPY

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 min. ago InfamousInspector863 Her heart raced as the caller informed her that her date had died in a car crash earlier that evening. She turned slowly to face the person driving, realizing she was sitting next to a complete stranger.

🎨📺

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago daneylion I was told that I was getting too old to be a pilot and that this would be my last flight before retirement. I’m going to make sure for everyone on board that it’s their last flight too.

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 ౨ৎ 1 don’t compare yourself to other people 2 repeat number 1 daily

　˚ 　　 . ✧　　 　　 ˚ 　　　 . ✧　　 ˚ 　 . everything you are worried about is going to turn out ok, i promise you ˙ᵕ˙ ‧ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆. 𖦁 ‧ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆. 𖦁 ‧ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆. 𖦁 ‧ ﾟ｡⋆

Tuesday 16 October 2012 Smile SMS Smile SMS → ∂ση ησт gσ ƒσя ℓσσкѕ, тнєу ¢αη ∂є¢єινє. ∂ση ησт gσ ƒσя ωєαℓтн, єνєη тнαт ƒα∂єѕ αωαу. gσ ƒσя ѕσмєσηє ωнσ мαкєѕ уσυ ѕмιℓє вє¢σz σηℓу α ѕмιℓє мαкєѕ α ∂αяк ∂αу ѕєєм вяιgнт. → ѕмιℓє ιѕ ¢σмρℓєтє ωнєη ιт вєgιηѕ ωιтн уσυя ℓιρѕ яєƒℓє¢тѕ ιη уσυя єуєѕ αη∂ єη∂ѕ ωιтн α gℓσω ση уσυя ƒα¢є. ωιѕн уσυ мαηу ѕυ¢н ѕмιℓιηg мσмєηтѕ ιη уσυя ℓιƒє. → ∂яєαмѕ мαкєѕ єνєяутнιηg ρσѕѕѕιвℓє,нσρє мαкєѕ єνєяутнιηg ωσякѕ,ℓσνє мαкєѕ єνєяутнιηg вєαυтιƒυℓ,ѕмιℓє мαкєѕ αℓℓ тнє αвσνє кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg αℓωαуѕ. → нєαят ¢αη ѕкιρ вєαтѕ 4 αωнιℓє мємσяιєѕ ¢αη вє кєρт ιη α ƒιℓє α ∂єѕєят ¢αη яєρℓα¢є тнє ηιℓє вυт... ησтнιηg ¢αη ѕтσρ α ѕмιℓє ωнєη υя ηαмє αρρєαяѕ ση му мσвιℓє. → ησ σηє ιѕ вσяη нαρρу. вυт αℓℓ σƒ υѕ αяє вσяη ωιтн тнє αвιℓιту тσ ¢яєαтє нαρριηєѕѕ. ѕσ тσ∂αу, мαкє σтнєяѕ нαρρу. ƒℓαѕн уσυя ѕωєєтєѕт ѕмιℓє. нανє α ∂αу ƒυℓℓ σƒ ѕмιℓєѕ → кєєρ тнє ѕмιℓє, ℓєανє тнє тєαя, тнιηк σƒ נσу, ƒσяgєт тнє ƒєαя , нσℓ∂ тнє ℓαυgн, ℓєανє тнє ραιη, вє נσυуσυѕ тιℓℓ ι ѕмѕ αgαιη → α gυη ¢αη кιℓℓ ѕσмєσηє. ƒιяє ¢αη вυяη ѕσмєσηє. ωιη∂ ¢αη ¢нιℓℓ. αηgєя ¢αη яαgє тιℓℓ ιт тєαяѕ уσυ αραят. вυт тнє ρσωєя σƒ уσυя ѕмιℓє ¢αη нєαℓ α ƒяσzєη нєαят. → ℓєт мє gυєѕѕ ωнαт υ я ∂σιηg... яєα∂ιηg вσσк? ηα ηα! ℓιѕтιηιηg мυѕι¢? υнυ! ωαт¢нιηg тν? ηαн! ¢αυgнт υ! мιѕѕιηg мє αη∂ яєα∂ιηg му ѕмѕ ηα.!! σн ησω υ я ѕмιℓιηg. → σηє ¢αη∂ℓє єησυgн тσ ¢υт ∂αякηєѕѕ. σηє тяυє ƒяιєη∂ єησυgн тσ мαкє ℓιƒє нαρρу. σηє gσσ∂ gυι∂є єησυgн ƒσя ѕυ¢¢єѕѕ. σηє ѕмѕ ƒяσм уσυ єησυgн тσ мαкє мє ѕмιℓє. → ѕмιℓє ƒσя тнє σηєѕ уσυ ℓσνє… α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ιѕ αℓℓ ιт тαкєѕ тσ мαкє σηє нαρρу… ℓσνє ¢αη ¢σмє ιη мαηу ∂郃єяєηт ωαуѕ, ѕнαρєѕ η ѕιzєѕ … вυт α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ωιℓℓ ¢σηqυєя єνєяутнιηg … αη∂ ℓєανє тнє вєѕт σƒ υѕ ѕρєє¢нℓєѕѕ … → σƒ αℓℓ тнє ѕмιℓєѕ уσυ яє¢єινє∂ тσ∂αу, тнєяє ιѕ α ѕмιℓє уσυ ∂ι∂η’т яє¢єινє. α ѕмιℓє ησт ƒяσм тнє ℓιρѕ вυт ƒяσм тнє нєαят, α ѕмιℓє тнαт ¢αмє ƒяσм мє тσ уσυ. → ιη тнє мσяηιηg, ѕυη gαzєѕ αт мє тσ мαкє мє нαρρу… ¢σσℓ вяєєzє нυgѕ мє тσ ѕєє му ѕмιℓє… вιя∂ѕ ѕιηgѕ тσ мαкє мє ѕмιℓє…. вυт му ∂єαя, тнєу ∂σηт кησω тнαт му ѕмιℓє ιѕ ιη¢σмρℓєтє υηтιℓ ι яємємвєя уσυя ƒα¢є… → αℓωαуѕ вє нαρρу, αℓωαуѕ ωєαя α ѕмιℓє; ησт вє¢αυѕє ℓιƒє ιѕ ƒυℓℓ σƒ яєαѕσηѕ тσ ѕмιℓє вυт вє¢αυѕє уσυя ѕмιℓє ιтѕєℓƒ ιѕ α яєαѕση ƒσя мαηу σтнєяѕ тσ ѕмιℓє. → ѕσмє тιмєѕ….ωнєη ι’м αℓℓ αℓσηє. ι ¢ℓσѕє му єуєѕ αη∂ тнιηк σƒ уσυ… αη∂ тнє тнσυgнт σƒ уσυя ℓσνє ωσямѕ мє ιηѕι∂є αη∂ мαкє мє ѕмιℓє. → ωнєη уσυ ѕмιℓє ιт ℓιкє α ѕυηяιѕє тσ мє. αη∂ ι ωαηт α ∂αιℓу ѕυηяιѕє ιη му ℓιƒє. ѕσ… ѕσ…. ѕσ….. ѕσ…… ѕσ кєєρ ѕ*м*ι*ℓ*ι*η*g → ιƒ єα¢н ℓєαƒ σƒ α тяєє ιѕ уσυя ѕмιℓє тнєη ι ρяσмιѕє уσυ му ∂єαя, ι ωιℓℓ ωαтєя ιт тняσυgн συт му ℓιƒє тσ ѕєє уσυя єνєяgяєєη ѕмιℓє ƒσяєνєя → ∂σ¢тσя’ѕ ρяєѕ¢яιρтιση 4 υ. α ¢υтє ℓιттℓє ѕмιℓє 4 вяєαкƒαѕт. мσяє ℓαυgнѕ 4 ℓυη¢н. ℓσтѕ σƒ нαρριηєѕѕ ƒσя ∂ιηηєя. ∂σ¢тσя’ѕ ƒєє? αη ѕмѕ ωнєη υ я ƒяєє. → ѕмιℓє: ѕ-ѕєтѕ уσυ ƒяєє м-мαкєѕ уσυ ѕρє¢ιαℓ ι-ιη¢яєαѕєѕ уσυя ƒα¢є ναℓυє ℓ-ℓιƒтѕ υρ уσυ ѕριяιтѕ є-єяαѕєѕ αℓℓ уσυя тєηѕισηѕ ѕσ ρℓєαѕє кєєρ ѕмιℓє. → α ѕмιℓє ιѕ α ωαу σƒ ωяιтιηg уσυя тнσυgнтѕ ση уσυя ƒα¢є, тєℓℓιηg σтнєяѕ тнαт тнєу αяє α¢¢єρтє∂, ℓιкє∂ αη∂ αρρяє¢ιαтє∂. ѕσ, нєяє’ѕ α вιg ѕмιℓє ƒσя уσυ тєℓℓιηg уσυ тнαт уσυ αяє αρρяє¢ιαтє∂ → тєαяѕ αяє мσяє тяυтнƒυℓ тнαη ѕмιℓє вє¢αυѕє уσυ ¢αη ѕмιℓє ιη ƒяσηт σƒ єνєяуσηє вυт уσυ ωιℓℓ σηℓу ¢яу ιη ƒяσηт σƒ σηє ωнσ ιѕ ѕρє¢ιαℓ ƒσя уσυ. → ιт ιѕ α ѕ”ιмρℓє” м”ιη∂ тσυ¢нιηg” ι”ηтєяα¢тινє” ℓ”σηg ℓαѕтιηg” є”ƒƒє¢т ωнι¢н ωιηѕ тнє нєαятѕ. уєѕ.. ιтѕ уσυя “ѕωєєт ѕмιℓє” ѕσ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg αℓωαуѕ, gσσ∂ мσяηιηg! → ιƒ уσυ ωσяяу αвσυт α тяσυвℓє ιт вє¢σмєѕ ∂συвℓє вυт ωнєη уσυ ѕмιℓє αт ιт, ιт ∂ιѕαρρєαяѕ ℓιкє α вυввℓє ѕσ αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓє αт уσυя ρяσвℓєм. кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg → ѕмιℓιηg ιѕ ιηƒє¢тισυѕ уσυ ¢αт¢н ℓιкє тнє ƒℓυ. ωнєη ѕмιℓє∂ αт тσ∂αу, ι ѕтαятє∂ ѕмιℓιηg тσσ. ι ραѕѕ яσυη∂ тнє ¢σяηєя, αη∂ ѕσмєσηє ѕαω му gяιη. ωнєη ѕмιℓє∂ ι яєαℓιzє ι ραѕѕє∂ ιт ση тσ ιм! ι тнσυgнт αвσυт тнαт ѕмιℓє, тнєη ι яєαℓιzє∂ ιт’ѕ ωσятн. α ѕιηgℓє ѕмιℓє ℓιкє мιηє ¢συℓ∂ тяανєℓ тнє єαятн → ѕιмρℓє мυѕι¢ ¢αη мαкє уσυ ѕιηg, α ѕιмρℓє нυg ¢αη мαкє уσυ ƒєєℓ вєттєя, ѕιмρℓє тнιηgѕ ¢αη мαкє уσυ нαρρу. нσρє му ѕιмρℓє нι ωιℓℓ мαкє уσυ ѕмιℓє …gσσ∂ мσяηιηg…. → ѕнαкєѕρєαяє ѕαι∂ ∂ση’т ωσяяу! вє¢αυѕє ιƒ υ я ωσяяιє∂ υ gєт α ωяιηкℓє, ѕσ ωну ∂ση’т υ ѕмιℓє &αмρ; gєт α ∂ιмρℓє. αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓє αη∂ вє нαρρу → ℓєт α ѕмιℓє вє уσυя υмвяєℓℓα, αη∂ уσυ’ℓℓ єη∂ υρ ωιтн α ƒα¢є ƒυℓℓ σƒ яαιη → α ѕα∂ gιяℓ ωαѕ ѕιттιηg ωιтн нєя вσуƒяιєη∂. вσу: уσυ αяє тнє 2η∂ мσѕт вєαυтιƒυℓ gιяℓ, ι’νє єνєя ѕєєη gιяℓ: ωнσ’ѕ тнє ƒιяѕт? . . . вσу: ιт’ѕ уσυ ωнєη υ ѕмιℓє..! → ѕσмєтιмєѕ….ωнєη ι’м αℓℓ αℓσηє. ι ¢ℓσѕє му єуєѕ αη∂ тнιηк σƒ уσυ… αη∂ тнє тнσυgнт σƒ уσυя ℓσνє ωσямѕ мє ιηѕι∂є αη∂ мαкє мє ѕмιℓє. → ιη συя ℓιƒє нαρριηєѕѕ ιѕ мσяє ιмρσятαηт тнαη ѕмιℓє ¢αυѕє ѕмιℓє ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓιρѕ вυт нαρριηєѕѕ ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят ѕσ вє нαρρу ƒσяєνєя → α ѕмιℓє gινєѕ яє∂ ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ¢нєєкѕ, ωнιтє 2 υя тєєтн, ριηк ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ℓιρѕ, ѕιℓνєя ¢σℓσυя 2 υя єуєѕ, ѕσ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg &αмρ; єηנσу тнє ¢σℓσυяѕ σƒ ℓιƒє → ѕмιℓє ƒσя тнє σηєѕ уσυ ℓσνє α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ιѕ αℓℓ ιт тαкєѕ тσ мαкє σηє нαρρу ℓσνє ¢αη ¢σмє ιη мαηу ∂郃єяєηт ωαуѕ, ѕнαρєѕ η ѕιzєѕ вυт α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ωιℓℓ ¢σηqυєя єνєяутнιηg αη∂ ℓєανє тнє вєѕт σƒ υѕ ѕρєє¢нℓєѕѕ → яσѕє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ ƒσя gяα¢є… α∂νσ¢αтє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ ƒσя нιѕ ¢αѕє… нσяѕєѕ αяє ƒαмσυѕ ƒσя яα¢є… вυт уσυ αяє ƒαмσυѕ ƒσя ѕмιℓє ση уσυя ƒα¢є…! нανє α ηι¢є ∂αу → α ѕмιℓє gινєѕ яє∂ ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ¢нєєкѕ, ωнιтє 2 υя тєєтн, ριηк ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ℓιρѕ, ѕιℓνєя ¢σℓσυя 2 υя єуєѕ, ѕσ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg &αмρ; єηנσу тнє ¢σℓσυяѕ σƒ ℓιƒє → тнєяє ιѕ αℓωαуѕ α яєαѕση ƒσя єνєяутнιηg α яєαѕση тσ ℓινє α яєαѕση тσ ∂ιє α яєαѕση тσ ¢яу, вυт ιƒ уσυ ¢αη’т ƒιη∂ α яєαѕση тσ ѕмιℓє ¢αη ι вє тнє яєαѕση ƒσя α ωнιℓє → ѕмιℓє ιη єαѕє, ѕмιℓє ιη ραιη, ѕмιℓє ωнєη тяσυвℓє, ρσυя ℓιкє яαιη, ѕмιℓє ωнєη ѕσмєσηє нυят υя ƒєℓℓιηgѕ, ѕмιℓєѕ уσυ кησω αяє νєяу нαιℓηg… → ѕσмєσηє ѕσмєωнєяє ∂яєαмѕ σƒ уσυя ѕмιℓє… αη∂ ωнιℓє тнιηкιηg σƒ уσυ ѕαуѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ ωσятнωнιℓє. ѕσ ωнєηєνєя уσυ’яє ℓσηєℓу…яємємвєя ιтѕ тяυє…. ѕσмєσηє ѕσмєωнєяє ιѕ тнιηкιηg σƒ уσυ → тнσυѕαη∂ѕ σƒ ℓαηgυαgєѕ αяσυη∂ тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂ вυт “ѕмιℓє” ¢αη вєαт тнєм αℓℓ. вє¢αυѕє “ѕмιℓє” ιѕ тнє ℓαηgυαgє єνєη α вαву ¢αη ѕρєαк.. → нєу.. ℓιѕтєη .. тωσ ρєσρℓє ωєяє αѕкιηg мє уσυя ∂єтαιℓѕ тσ∂αу. ι gανє тнєм уσυя α∂∂яєѕѕ αη∂ мσвιℓє ηυмвєя. тнєу ωιℓℓ вє νιѕιтιηg уσυ ѕσση. тнєιя ηαмєѕ αяє נσу &αмρ; нαρριηєѕѕ. → тнє ωσяℓ∂ ιѕ, тнє ωσяℓ∂ ωαѕ αη∂ тнє ωσяℓ∂ ωιℓℓ вє αℓωαуѕ σηє. ωнαтєνєя уσυ ∂σ ,ωнєяє єνєя уσυ ℓινє αη∂ ωнєяє єνєя уσυ gσ. αℓωαуѕ ρяσυ∂ тσ вє σηє ωσяℓ∂ιαη. נυѕт ℓσνє ιт! → αℓωαуѕ вє нαρρу, αℓωαуѕ ωєαя α ѕмιℓє; ησт вє¢αυѕє ℓιƒє ιѕ ƒυℓℓ σƒ яєαѕσηѕ тσ ѕмιℓє вυт вє¢αυѕє уσυя ѕмιℓє ιтѕєℓƒ ιѕ α яєαѕση ƒσя мαηу σтнєяѕ тσ ѕмιℓє. . . → ѕмιℓє ιѕ ¢σмρℓєтє ωнєη ιт вєgιηѕ ωιтн уσυя ℓιρѕ, яєƒℓє¢тѕ ιη уσυя єуєѕ, &αмρ; єη∂ѕ ωιтн α gℓσω ση уσυя ƒα¢є.. ωιѕн уσυ α ℓσт σƒ ѕмιℓιηg мσмєηтѕ ιη уσυя ℓιƒє…:-) → ιη συя ℓιƒє нαρριηєѕѕ ιѕ мσяє ιмρσятαηт тнαη ѕмιℓє ¢αυѕє ѕмιℓє ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓιρѕ вυт нαρριηєѕѕ ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят ѕσ вє нαρρу ƒσяєνєя → ιη тнє мσяηιηg, ѕυη gαzєѕ αт мє тσ мαкє мє нαρρу ¢σσℓ вяєєzє нυgѕ мє тσ ѕєє му ѕмιℓє вιя∂ѕ ѕιηgѕ тσ мαкє мє ѕмιℓє вυт му ∂єαя, тнєу ∂σηт кησω тнαт му ѕмιℓє ιѕ ιη¢σмρℓєтє υηтιℓ ι яємємвєя уσυя ƒα¢є → α ѕмιℓє ¢σѕтѕ ℓєѕѕ тнαη єℓє¢тяι¢ιту, вυт gινєѕ мσяє ℓιgнт ѕσ αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓє &αмρ; ρяσνє тнαт υ αяє тнє вєѕт вυℓв ιη ραкιѕтαη ∂ση’т gєт ƒυѕє∂! → кιℓℓ ∂ ѕтяєѕѕ в4 ιт кιℓℓѕ υ яєα¢н ∂ gσαℓ в4 ιт кι¢кѕ υ нєℓρ єνєяу1 в4 ѕυм1 нєℓρѕ υ ℓινє ℓιƒє в4 ℓιƒє ℓєανєѕ υ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg:-) → ωнєη ι ѕмѕ уσυ, ι ¢αη ησт ѕєє уσυ. вυт ι кησω ωнєη уσυ яєα∂ му ѕмѕ. α ѕωєєт ѕмιℓє ωιℓℓ ¢σмє ση уσυя ƒα¢є. тнєη ι ρяαу тσ gσ∂ тσ вℓєѕѕ уσυя ѕмιℓє ƒσяєνєя → ιη єα¢н ѕιηgℓє ∂αу, ωє ѕмιℓє &αмρ; ℓαυgн ѕσ мαηу тιмєѕ! ωє ηєνєя тнαηк gσ∂ αƒтєя єνєяу ѕмιℓє! вυт ωє ∂σ вℓαмє нιм ƒσя єνєяу тєαя ωє ¢яу!! нσω ѕтяαηgє вυт тяυє!! → ℓινє ωιтн ησ єχ¢υѕєѕ αη∂ ℓσνє ωιтн ησ яєgяєтѕ. ωнєη ℓιƒє gινє уσυ 100 яєαѕσηѕ тσ ¢яу. ѕнσω ℓιƒє тнαт уσυ нανє 1000 яєαѕσηѕ тσ ѕмιℓє. кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg. → ωιтнσυт ℓσνє ℓιƒє ωαѕтє, ωιтнσυт ѕтσяу мσνιє ωαѕтє, ωιтнσυт му ѕмѕ υя ¢єℓℓ ωαѕтє &αмρ; ωιтнσυт υя ѕмιℓє му ѕмѕ ωαѕтє!! → gєт υρ ƒяσм уσυя ѕσƒт ѕσƒт вє∂. σρєη уσυя тєєηу єєηу єуєѕ. ωєαя тнαт נσℓℓу ωσℓℓу ѕмιℓє. αη∂ ѕαу тσ уσυяѕєℓƒ gσσ∂ мσяηιηg ƒяσм мє, нανє α ηι¢є ∂αу. Posted by Kiran Bele at 04:34

i am lucky 𖦁　 ˚ 　　　. ✧　　 　˚ 　　 . ✧　　 　　 ˚ 　　　 . ✧　　˚ 　. ᰔ luck is always by my side ᰔ i am the luckiest girl right now ᰔ luck never lets me down ᰔ it always turns out good ᰔ everything i want is mine ᰔ miracles happen to me daily ᰔ things always work out for me ᰔ i am always just so lucky 　　 ˚ . ✧　　 ˚

｡・ ﾟ・｡ ｡ +. ﾟ｡・. ｡. * ﾟ + ｡・ﾟ・｡・ﾟ・. ｡* ｡ ・ﾟ・ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ a small reminder for you, try not to be so hard on yourself, i know you are trying and giving your best! i know it might sound crazy to you right now but better days WILL come and you will look back at this exact moment and remember how impossible it all seemed. ♡ but look, you DID it! you got through one of your hardest days. so, don’t give up. healing takes time. it might all seem impossible but you will get there. it doesn’t have to look a certain way, in fact, healing looks different for everyone. go at your own pace and don’t try to rush anything! it’s not a race! ♡ don’t stress yourself out and try to worry less. you are stronger than you think and i KNOW you can do this and get through whatever you are going through! 🌸 you GOT THIS! ˙ᵕ˙ ｡・ ﾟ・｡ ｡ +. ﾟ｡・. ｡. * ﾟ + ｡・ﾟ・｡・ﾟ・. ｡* ｡ ・ﾟ・

ᴳᴵᴿᴸ'ᔆ ᶠᴬᵀᴬᴸ ᶠᴬᴸᴸ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴾᴼᴼᴸ ᔆʸᴰᴺᴱʸ⸴ ‧ ᵀᵘᵉˢᵈᵃʸ‧ — ᴰᵒʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ⸴ ¹²⸴ ᵒᶠ ᴾᵃᶜⁱᶠⁱᶜ ᴴⁱᵍʰʷᵃʸ⸴ ᴮᵉʳᵒʷʳᵃ⸴ ᶠᵉˡˡ ³⁰ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵃ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃᵗ ᴮᵉʳᵒʷʳᵃ ᵗᵒ⁻ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᶜˡⁱᵐᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵒˢˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶜᵏˢ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵂᵃᵗᵉʳᶠᵃˡˡ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ³⁰ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᶠᵒˡⁱᵃᵍᵉ ᵍʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵒᶜᵏˢ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᶜʰⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵖⁱᵖᵉ‧ ᶠᵃᵗᵃˡ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᴰᵒʷⁿ ᴳᵒʳᵍᵉ — — — ^ — — — ᔆʸᵈⁿᵉʸ⸴ ᴶᵘⁿᵉ ²⁹‧— ᶠᵃᵗᵃˡ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳⁱᵉˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴰᵒʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁽¹²⁾ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ³⁵ ᶠᵗ‧ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ᵍᵒʳᵍᵉ ᵃᵗ ᴮᵒʳᵒʷʳᵃ ᵗᵒ⁻ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘˢʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ᶜᵒᵘˢⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵒᵒᵗ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒʳᵍᵉ‧ ᴬ ˢʰᵃʳᵖ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵖᵉⁿᵉᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉʳ ʲᵃʷ ʷᵃˢ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ˢʰᵒʳᵗˡʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵐᵇᵘˡᵃⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴴᵒʳⁿˢᵇʸ ᴴᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. (entry) will bring blessings. 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

(☯‿☯✿)

20 OCTOBER 2010 VIA LoveGivesMeHope lovegivesmehope: givesmehope: My best friend died in a car accident on his way to deliver me soup for my cold. Found in the car was also a bouquet of flowers and a card that read: “We’ve been best friends for the last 5 years. Now, let’s be lovers for the next 50.” Unforgettable LGMH

I'm 17 and recently lost my mom in a car accident. As I was rambling on and crying about how she wouldn't be there for my wedding or the birth of my children, my fiance lifted up my head and simply said, "Baby, don't worry. She'll have the perfect view." Sam, you GMH. June 24th, 2010, 12:29 AM

I see the death of everyone I meet. (Written by JJX2525, from Reddit) SHARED JUN 05 I see the death of everyone I meet. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new girl Abigail that she smelt bad̳. I remember it vividly – a bloody-burny-boozy smell that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern lecture on telling lıes. But it wasn’t a lie. My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abigail would drunkenly plough her parent’s Mitsubishi straight into the front of an oncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along with the song she’d be playing on the radio – five seconds of a generic disco beat. The last thing she’d hear. I know it’s bad҉ to say, but I think there’s something sacred about it. There’s nothing more personal then someone’s last̀ moments of lífe. I try not to take it for granted. It’s hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Along with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was rare. In this day and age most people go to their dEath with pastel colours and blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled to know what’s about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle school gym teacher, who was going to dıe with a deafening bang in a rush of mad courage. I couldn’t hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still ringing. Suıcıde will do that to you. Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believe me, which I doubt, it wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of them. They’d want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and the quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a m√rder? And no you can’t change it, don’t ask me because I already tried, I already tried and you can’t beat the system. You just can’t. I already lost someone to that. Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was a prettɥ small place and I knew most of the other kids there – except for her. We weren’t on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I got the urge to vom1t. It was motion sickness, but also something worse – fear. Hers was the worst fear I’d ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until one day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me. There was nothıng I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a vision too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurdles headlong flaming out of the sky – the ocean rushing up towards me – screaming, then – Smack. Nothıng. When I came to she was glaring at me. ‘What is your problem?’ she whispered. ‘What?’ I asked, the uneasiness subsiding. ‘I don’t –‘ ‘If you don’t like̢ me then just say so. Quit pretending to be ıll all the time.’ ‘Huh?’ I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. We’d never been this close before. She was pretty. I hadn’t thought about how I must look to her, running away every time she got close. ‘I swear it’s not on purpose.’ I said. ‘I’m sick͞ a lot. It isn’t you.’ ‘Sure.’ she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class. ‘Honestly.’ I said. ‘Let me – let me make it up to you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’ And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happiest time of my life. The sicknesses didn’t go away, but it subsided after a couple minutes, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathroom became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the couple things – movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I convinced myself that her dEath – whatever it was – was still years into the future. For a while, anyway. At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents out of state. ‘The flight’s on Monday. I won’t be gone much more than a week.’ ‘Flight?’ I repeated. ‘Yeah.” she replied. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’ I convinced her to take a road trip. I can’t remember the exact excuse I gave. Some nonsense about expenses, life experience, our ‘carbon footprint’. How it took me that long to guess it could be a plane crash I’ll never know. I was in too deep, I guess. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red mini from the local garage and, after we’d packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and said it was the right decision. ‘Okay.’ She laughed. ‘Weirdo.’ Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was being overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news station just in time to see the breakıng story of a twelve car pile-up on a suspension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his lane, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering a chain of collisions which ended tragically when – some viewers may find this footage disturbing – a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean beloɯ..

Just today, I found out the real reason of my parents’ deaths‎ when I was 10. When our car lost ıt's brakes and was going to crash, they tried to protect me at the last minute. Their bødies were found, covering me while I was non-conscious. Their never ending love truly GMH.

The Never Ending Road. In Corona, California there once was a road known by most of the elder locals as the never ending road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. However, over 70 years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen or heard from again. The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate around the 1960’s. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at it's end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bødies of the victims still strapped to their seats. Law enforcement tried to cover up their findings. They closed down Lester road, letting the trees grow where the road once stood and letting the bødies remain in their final resting place.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago MintClicker Moments before the tragedy At 3, she jumped off the bed. At 7, she unbuckled her seat belt. At 12, she went to a sleepover at a friend's house. At 17, she finally received her driver's license. At 26, she said yes. At 30, she went into labor. At 39, she had one last hurrah. At 46, she signed the papers to make it final. At 55, he was diagnosed and had no one to share the news with. At 61, she celebrated her remission with a night out. At 22, she looked at herself in the mirror. At 87, surrounded by her family and friends, she smiled. There are moments before every tragedy, quick flashes of boredom or happiness, of the expected and unexpected. These moments I see. The little girl jumping off her parents bed and into an unresponsive final state. Another girl attending her first sleepover, excited and giddy, only to succumb to an unknowing fatal nut allergy. The young woman whose proposal near the shoreline was poorly thought-out, never allowing her to live to see her marriage. The older woman who finally divorced the man she came to loathe, and for that man to not take the finality of it all with dignity or peace. The man whose diagnosis was terminal. The woman whose 40th birthday ended in heartache and disaster. The girl whose last glimpse in the mirror was of herself, relieved, then raising the pistol to her temple. These moments, as innocuous as they seem, are the final looks to life before tragedy ultimately hits. And I watch them. I have to. It's my responsibility to take you all from this realm to the next. It's my duty. And I am sorry; I truly am. Because now? At this moment, they read the final sentences of a story. Some bored. Some happy. Some expecting this ending; some not. And I watch as they read these last words, fully oblivious as they are, that this, this is their moment.

The Ethics of Work Aug 14th, 2015 The Ethics of Work I have always taken great pride in my job, and in the type of work that I do. It’s been said that I lucked into my line of work. That may be true, but it is no fluke that I’ve taken it by the reins and become a master. It is sometimes very dirty work, but I never complaine. I’ve always believed that the bad parts of anything must be accepted right along with the good; that applies to one’s livelihood as well as anything else. I began honing my skills at a very young age. I didn’t know I was doing so, but fate dealt me a kind hand. How fortunate is it to walk into a profession that was naturally developed by things already done in the course of one’s life? Not many can say they’ve been blessed like that. My job takes no breaks for weather either. Hot, cold, rain, wind, all elements are simply ignored. When there is work to be done, I do it, and I ask no questions. A duty is a duty, and as I said before, I’m proud to perform that duty. I have always had that outlook, from working on the farm and cutting wood as a youth; things had to be done, and I did them with a song In my heart and a smile on my face. Speaking of smiles, my clients are always greeted with one. I think that is important. Not that the smiles were solely for my clientele; my joy in my work puts those smiles there, and no effort in the world could kept them off of my face. I guess it was inevitable that I’ve begun taking my work home with me. It’s said that if you love your job, you never truly work a day in your life. That certainly applies to me, and I practise my work as often as I can. I think that’s what gotten me into trouble. I’ve been relieved of my job, because of my “off the clock” work. I think that’s unfair, but I don’t make the rules. My job was always to help enforce the rules, and I have to respect that now, even though I’m now on the other side of them. I hear the grindstone outside, sharpening the big axe; the axe that I wielded so professionally and perfectly. I was state executioner, you see. In a few hours I get to meet my replacement.

Giggles Chuck climbed out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, refusing to turn on the bedside lamp in case he disturbed his wife whom was låyīng beside him. Finishing his busıness, he made his way to the sink, and just as he began to run the water, thought he heard a faint laughter coming from the bedroom. “Honey? Was that you?” He listened carefully, but there was no reply from that dark doorway. Chuck turned back to the sink and continued to wash his hands, certain that it was just his half-asleep brain playing tricks. However, moments later, he once again thought he could hear a faint laughter from the bedroom. He turned off the water, and began to make his way back into the bedroom. The light was off, and in the bed, he could make out the shape of his wife låyīng there. “Honey? Were you laughing?” Chuck flicked on the bedside lamp, and in an instant was looking into the unblinking đeađ eyes of his wife, her mouth sliced from ear-to-ear in a grotesque mockery of a smıle. Chuck felt his heart freeze, before relief washed over him. “Oh, it WAS you!” he exclaimed with a smıle as he peeled back the ̛ bed sheets, stıll stiff from the long dried błoođ, and climbed back into ̛ bed, kissing his wife’s cold cheek before turning out the light. “For a moment there, I thought I was going cRaZy.”

The other day, I went to my church for youth group. We were making PBJ sandwiches for the homeless people.I wasn't really that happy that day because I was dealing with my parents's divorce.A random man came up and said "Smile more.You're beautiful."And walked away. He made my day.He GMH Aug 7, 2013 at 9:30pm by Anonymous

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 hr. ago AnonymousNeverKnown ↓ I chuckled to myself, changing the 'is" to "was" on celebrities' wikipedia pages when they weren't dead. Imagine my horror when I saw breaking news about a plane crash, killing those very celebrities.

--On Saturday last, Francis, the only son of Mr. MALLON, of Mullyards, came by his death under the following circumstances: Fastened to a beam in his father's house, the boy, who was just ten years old, had a swing, in which he used to seat himself by standing on a form. It appears that on this occasion there happened to be a halter thrown over the same beam. When the boy was about to adjust himself in the swing, the form on which he was standing upset, and in falling to the ground the headstall of the halter became entangled round his neck. There was no person in the house at the time; and the poor boy, unable to extricate himself, was almost immediately strangled. An inquest was held on the following day by Arthur R. KAY, Esq., coroner, and the jury returned a verdict in accordance with the facts.--"Armagh Guardian." http://www.irelandoldnews.com/Cavan/1858/SEP.html

r/shortscarystories 13 hr. ago S_G_Woodhouse I think I'm losing my head I was driving home after a long day at work. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was at home having dinner with my wife and 2 daughters. "What's wrong honey" she asked me. "I don't know. I just feel like I've forgotten something" I replied, confused. Forgot something? It was much worse than that, I had no memory of going home. I reassured her and spent the rest of the evening as normal, re-watching one of my favorite movies. Eventually, I dozed off. I dreamt strange things. I saw myself, having a picnic with my parents. Except they weren't smiling and happy like I remembered them. Instead, they were sitting on the picnic blanket, staring into space, their faces closed and expressionless. No matter how much I shouted at them in my daze, I couldn't see any life left in them; it was as if they were there, without being there. Detached. I woke up in my bed, alone. I looked all over the house, but not only was my wife gone, so were my children. My cell phone line was dead, no service. I went outside to get my car and drive to work, thinking I'd try to call my wife a little later. There was no one on the road but me. It was as if the whole Earth had emptied out. I'd dismissed my detachment last night, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind. I was lost. I decided to go to my work to see if anyone was still in town, if a national evacuation drill was underway and could explain everything. Once there, I rushed back into the building, hoping to find someone who could explain what was going on. And when I opened the door, I was relieved to see that all my colleagues were there. At last, I could find out what was going on. I walked over to a colleague who over the years had become my best friend. "Hey, what's going on? My family's disappeared and there's nobody left in town," I asked him. He didn't answer. I stepped forward to face him, and discovered to my horror that his face and expression were detached exactly the same as my parents' in my dream. It couldn't be, was I trapped in a nightmare? I tried to talk to everyone, but they were all in the same state. My head hurt, my eyes hurt. I saw lights, and sounds filled my ears even though there was nothing here. Nothing alive. My vision began to narrow. Sounds began to blend together. Blackness. Emptiness. And finally, words I didn't have time to understand came to me for the last time. "The driver is dead, his head was torn off by the impact."

Cavan Observer Published in Cavan, county Cavan September 4, 1858 AWFUL ACCIDENT.--On Sunday morning, a woman named Emily WYNDHAM, came by a most sudden and lamentable death in her residence, Bond-street. The poor woman had been standing on a stool, in her own kitchen, reaching for something on the top of a press, when the stool gave way from beneath her, and she fell on her head on a cradle beside where she had been standing, and, sad to say, broke her neck. She expired in a few minutes after the dreadful accident. The unfortunate woman was the wife of a labouring man, and has left six children, the youngest being three months old.--"Belfast News-Letter."

Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ /sʜᴏʀᴛsᴄᴀʀʏsᴛᴏʀɪᴇs GᴜʏAᴡᴋs Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ “Is ᴛʜɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, Jᴀɴᴇᴛ? Yᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏɴ Eᴅᴅʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ!” Mʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴍs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʙᴡᴇʙs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴ’s ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ. Aʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪs ᴀ sᴇᴀ ᴏғ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ Hᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛs, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀs ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇʀs. “Yᴇs” I ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄᴀʀ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ. “Mʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ.” “Oʜ ɪᴛ’s sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ. Iɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅs ᴅᴏᴏʀ-ᴛᴏ-ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋs. Lɪғᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛɪɴɢ.” Eᴅᴅʏ ʙᴏʙs ɪɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇ. Eᴀɢᴇʀ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴛs ᴏғғ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴏᴋɪʟʏ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅs ʟɪɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ. “Tʜɪs ᴅᴏᴇs sᴇᴇᴍ ғᴜɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅs, Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ” I ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ sʜᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇs. “Bᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ sᴀғᴇ ɪs ᴛʜɪs? Wɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs’ ᴄᴀʀs…” “Hᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴍᴜᴄʜ sᴀғᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ- ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ!” sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇs ᴍᴇ. Sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ, I ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛ sʟᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ sʜᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɢɪɴᴇ ʀᴏᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ SUV ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʏ. Eᴅᴅʏ ɪs ɴᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴇɴ. “Hᴇʏ!” I sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ. Eᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ sᴘɪɴs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ I’ᴍ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ SUV ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡs ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴄʀᴇᴇᴄʜ ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴇs ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴜs. Aᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴠᴀɴ ᴀs ɪᴛ ғʟᴇᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ ғʀᴀɴᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴀʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ. “Is ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ?!” Aᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀᴏs, I ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ Eᴅᴅʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. I ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʜᴜɢ. “Aʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ—ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ” ʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜʟʏ. I sᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ sᴍɪʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴠᴀɴ, ᴅʀɪᴠᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍʏ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ, ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀs ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs. Tᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘʟᴇss ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇs ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs sᴍᴀsʜɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴅɪɢɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛs.

🪩🕺👢☮️✌️🌀☯️🌼💃🍸🌈😎✨🍄🍃💿📀🎊🥃🥂🕶🪐🎶🎵

📻☎️🕹️🎞️🎥🕺

🪩🕺✨☮️🎸🦩🍓

Apr 1, 2013, 2:38 PM Finally in bus home I'm going to make me some I Taliban meatballs> Umm Italian> Hello I seriously meant Italian ok?>

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Jun 8, 2010 I was driving past a retirement home today and two old people were laughing and playing like little kids. Then, I saw the lady hop on the back of her husband's wheelchair and go for a ride. They GMH.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 day ago saltwatertaffy324 I focussed solely on my children, telling myself the moments wouldn’t last forever once they grew up It wasn’t until after I put them on the bus did I check my phone to see all the alerts about cancelled school.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 12 hr. ago CalebVanPoneisen ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Stinging paın jolts me awake, but my broken bødy reminds me that I did survive the plane crash. Dozens of exotic snails are grazing my motionless bødy, slowly tearing into my flesh, while I can do nothing but silently witness my torment..

→ ι тнιηк υ я νєяу ¢αяєℓєѕѕ!!! υ ¢σмє &αмρ; ℓєανє тнιηgѕ вєнιη∂!!!! ѕєє ησω ωнαт υ нανє ℓєƒт?? υ נυѕт ¢αмє ιη му мιη∂ &αмρ; ℓєƒт α ѕмιℓє ση му ƒα¢є….

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My grandfather recently died, and as we were going through his stuff he had THOUSANDS of pictures of my grandmother. Pictures of her sitting there, eating, smiling, laughing. She said he would follow her around with a camera so he wouldn’t miss a single time she smiled. His love for her GMH. June 19th, 2010, 1:37 AM

“I woke up in a joyful mood and went to my mirror with a smile on my face; only, my reflection wasn’t smiling back at me.” -Aubrey Lichtfield

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago IAbstainFromSociety My attempt to break into the cockpit with the fire axes failed, as the cockpit doors had been reinforced to protect against terrorism. Alone in the cockpit, there was nothing to stop my suicidal co-pilot from crashing the plane into the mountains..

→ уєѕтєя∂αу ιѕ нιѕтσяу. тσмσяяσω ιѕ муѕтєяу. тσ∂αу ιѕ α gιƒт. тнαт ιѕ ωну ιт ιѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ “тнє ρяєѕєηт”. ℓινє ιη “тнє ρяєѕєηт” αη∂ мαкє уσυя ℓιƒє вєαυтιƒυℓ тσ∂αу → ƒσυя ƒα¢тѕ тσ ℓινє вєттєя ℓιƒє ; 1ѕт: ηєνєя ѕαу ѕσяяу тσ тнє σηє , ωнσ ℓιкєѕ уσυ. 2η∂: ηєνєя ѕαу вує тσ тнє σηє , ωнσ ηєє∂ѕ уσυ. 3я∂: ηєνєя вℓαмє тнє σηє , ωнσ яєαℓℓу тяυѕтѕ уσυ. 4тн: ηєνєя ƒσяgєт тнє σηє , ωнσ αℓωαуѕ яємємвєяѕ уσυ → ѕмιℓє ƒσя тнє σηєѕ уσυ ℓσνє… α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ιѕ αℓℓ ιт тαкєѕ тσ мαкє σηє нαρρу… ℓσνє ¢αη ¢σмє ιη мαηу ∂郃єяєηт ωαуѕ, ѕнαρєѕ η ѕιzєѕ … вυт α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ωιℓℓ ¢σηqυєя єνєяутнιηg … αη∂ ℓєανє тнє вєѕт σƒ υѕ ѕρєє¢нℓєѕѕ … → α ѕιηgℓє нαяѕн ωσя∂ ѕρσкєη αт тнє тιмє σƒ αηgєя ιѕ ѕσ ρσιѕσησυѕ тнαт ιт мαкєѕ υѕ тσ ƒσяgєт тнє 100 ℓσναвℓє ¢σηνєяѕαтισηѕ ωιтнιη ѕє¢ση∂ѕ. → ιη συя ℓιƒє нαρριηєѕѕ ιѕ мσяє ιмρσятαηт тнαη ѕмιℓє ¢αυѕє ѕмιℓє ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓιρѕ вυт нαρριηєѕѕ ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят ѕσ вє нαρρу ƒσяєνєя → gσσ∂ вєнανισя ¢αη ¢σνєя тнє ℓα¢к σƒ gσσ∂ ℓσσкѕ вυт gσσ∂ ℓσσкѕ ¢αη ηєνєя ¢σνєя тнє ℓα¢к σƒ gσσ∂ вєнανισя ѕσ кєєρ уσυя вєнανισя αт тнє вєѕт ℓєνєℓ

Tumblr | 10/6/2014 | 7:44pm | DO YOU? meeplol: Most people agree that dying while being asleep is the best way to dıe. Peaceful, not signs of tortur͘e nor paın. My grandma used to say angels carry them, the ones who are dying while being asleep, to heaven. But sometimes angels can be clumsy and drop them by accident. Remember the time you felt like falling in your sleep and suddenly woke up?

r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago sp00kyscary They're just so darn cute I love being a 2nd grade teacher. The kids in my class are so cute and innocent. They're at the perfect age. I used to teach sixth grade, but I quickly realised how that it was a mistake, whence cliques form, the bullying flourishes, and kids learnt how to be terrible to each other. By then, they're corrupted by bad role models, no respect for authority and no desire to learn. No; 2nd grade children are far better! The parents are still making an attempt to shield them from the harshness of the world. They look at me with wide eyes, eager to learn, taking in all I share with them. My favourite day, is Valentine's Day. They make little paper packets they place on their desks to be filled with cards and/or candy. This year, I baked some delicious cookies at home and I arrived early to deliver one to each student. I’m so excited to see the reactions. I smile all morning. I smile as the kids arrive, dressed in red and pink. I smile as they happily tear into their construction paper holders to see what's inside. I smile as they give me an adorable thank-you once they see the cookies I've made them. I smile as they bite into them. And I smile as they one by one fall to the ground, shaking and turning blue. After all, they're at such a cute age. It would be a shame to let them grow up.

ᴸᵃᵗᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳⁿᵒᵒⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵒᵒʳ ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠˡᵒᵒʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᶠᵘˡˡ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ‧” ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢᵉ‧ “ᴺᵒ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᴵ’ˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ‧” ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳˢ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵇᵉᵍᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴹᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ ᶜʳᵃˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒᵘᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵏⁱˡˡᵉᵈ‧ [ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᔆᶜᵃʳʸ ᔆᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵀᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᵃʳᵏ⸴ ᵇʸ ᴬˡᵛⁱⁿ ᔆᶜʰʷᵃʳᵗᶻ]

=========================================================================== BUDI. BUDIG. BUDIG, Ray G.; d 1936 Aug, auto accident, Omaha NE; bur McCook; (I88) ===========================================================================

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- BROWN, E. R.; r: Palisade C. BROWN, Opal, b ca1921; .......badly injured, auto accident, N of Palisade; 1938; (I130) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴs. Pᴇʀsᴏɴɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ɴᴏɴ-ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ's, ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴇᴛᴄ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ's sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇʟɪɴᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪɴ-ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ's ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴄᴀʀʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ғʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ. Tʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ᴍᴀʏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴡɪsᴛ. Hᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴘs: ~Pʀᴏғᴀɴɪᴛʏ. Cᴀɴ sᴀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ 'ᴏʜ ᴅᴇᴀʀ' ᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ. ~Gᴏʀᴇ, ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ. ~Aɴɪᴍᴀʟs. Cᴀɴ ʙᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ 'ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏɢ ɢʀᴏᴡʟs ᴀᴛ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ɢʜᴏsᴛ' ~Sᴇʟғ ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴇᴛᴄ. Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ sᴀᴄʀɪғɪᴄᴇ ᴏɴᴇsᴇʟғ. ~Aʙᴜsᴇ (ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴏɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ) ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀʙᴅᴜᴄᴛ, ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ, ᴇᴛᴄ. ~Sᴛᴇʀᴇᴏᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘs (ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴs, ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴇᴛᴄ. ᴀs ᴅɪsʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛғᴜʟ) Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴜsᴇ (ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅɪsᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ) ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴀʟ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs (ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ғᴏᴇᴛɪᴄɪᴅᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ, ᴇᴛᴄ.) ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs (ᴄᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ, ʙᴀʙʏ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴs, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ, ᴇᴛᴄ.) ɪɴ sᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴsᴏғᴀʀ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛᴀɪɴs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ɢʟᴏʀɪғʏɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ. Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛᴏʀ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ, ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ, ᴏʀ ʙʏsᴛᴀɴᴅᴇʀ. Hᴀᴠᴇ ғᴜɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs!

ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ᴿʰʸᵐᵉˢ⠘ ⁻ɛˡⁱ ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ⁱˢ ᵃ ˢᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᵂᵉˡˡ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢᵃᵏᵉˢ‧‧ ⁻ᴳⁱᵃⁿᶜᵃʳˡᵒ "ᴳᵃᵗᵒ" ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ᴾᵉˡˡᵉᶜʰⁱᵃ ⁽ᵇᵒʳⁿ ¹⁰ ᴶᵘˡʸ ¹⁹⁸¹ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵃʳᵃᶜᵃˢ⁾ ⁱˢ ᵃ ⱽᵉⁿᵉᶻᵘᵉˡᵃⁿ ʳᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉʳ‧ ⁻ᴬˡᵉˢˢᵃⁿᵈʳᵒ ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡⁱ⸴ ᴼᶠᴹ ᶜᵃᵖ‧ ⁽² ᴶᵘⁿᵉ ¹⁸⁸² – ⁶ ᴹᵃʸ ¹⁹⁷⁰⁾ ʷʳᵒᵗᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᴹᵃʸ ⁵⸴ ¹⁹⁶¹ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴹᵃʳⁱᵃ ᴳᵒʳᵉᵗᵗⁱ ᴾʰᵒⁿᵉᵗⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ ᔆⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ᴺᵃᵐᵉˢ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᔆⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᔆᵉʳⁱⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ⁸⁹ ᔆᵉʳᵃⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ⁸⁹ ᶜᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ⁸⁹ ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿᵉˡˡʸ ⁸⁹ ᔆᵉʳᵉⁿⁱˡˡˡᵃ ⁷⁴ ᔆᵉ́ʳᵉ́ⁿᵉˡˡᵃ ⁶⁷ ᶻᵃʳᵃⁿᵉˡˡⁱ ⁶⁷

ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵀᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵀᵒᵘʳⁱˢᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᶜʰ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵀʳᵃⁱˡ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᶠ‧ ᴷᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᴬ ⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧” ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵍᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ⸴ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ⸴ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ‘ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ’ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷⁱⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵘᵗᵘᵐⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ⸴ ˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ⸴ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵃᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ; ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴰᵃⁿ ᵂⁱˡˢᵒⁿ⠘ ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴬ ˡᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵃˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴬˡᵒʸˢⁱᵘˢ⸴ ᴱᵈʷⁱⁿᵃ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴺᵃᵗʰᵃⁿⁱᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ? ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ⠘ ᴰᵉᵃʳ ᴮʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴬᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵂⁱᶠᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴼᵘʳ ᴮᵃᵇʸ – ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⸴ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁵⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ ᵒʷᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧

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ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ; ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ? ᴾᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ? ᴹᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ? ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ʳᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ ᴴᵉʳᵉ ˡⁱᵉˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ¹⁹ˣˣ⁻? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ? ᴵ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶠᵃⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ‧‧‧ ᵂᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵖᵃ ᵇᵒʳⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳ? ᴴᵒʷ ᵈⁱᵈ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ? ᵂᵃˢ ᔆᵐⁱᵗʰ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠⁱᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᶠᵘˡᶠⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ? ᵂᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ʷᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳˢᵉᵉⁿ? ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᴵ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳᵇʸ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ; ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧ ᴰʳʸ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ ᶜʳᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒʷ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵇʳᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉʷ; ᵒʰ⸴ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ²⁰ˣˣ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ; ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ! ᴬᵐᵃᵇᵉˡ‧‧‧ ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ‽ ᴬ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉᵈ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧‧‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ? ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃⁿʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ? ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ‧ ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵗⁱᶠⁱᶜⁱᵃˡ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵒ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ‧‧‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘˢʰ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᵃᶜʳᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴬ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳ‧ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ’ᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳⁱˡʸ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿˢ ʷʰʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵒ‧ ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ? ᴰᵒ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒᵈᵈ⸴ ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ? ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ? ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ʷʳᵉⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵍˡⁱᵐᵖˢᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ⸴ “ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᔆʷᵉᵉᵗ ᴬⁿᵍᵉˡ”‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵒʳⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵘˢᵉ? ᵂᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃʳᵗⁱˢᵗ⸴ ᵃ ᵖᵒᵉᵗ? ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒʳⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵉᶜᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ ᵗᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴿᵉᵐⁿᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳʸᵉᵃʳ‧ ᴬ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈʳᵃʷˢ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱʳᵒⁿ‧ ᴹᵘᶜʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵃˢ‧ ᴿᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ⸴ ᵉⁿᵈˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵗᵃⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃʳᵇˡᵉ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵉˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˢᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ? ᴬʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ? ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿʰᵃᵇⁱᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ? ᴾʳᵒᶠᵉˢˢᵒʳ ᴰᵃᵛⁱᵉˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ʰᵉʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈˢ ˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇⁱᵇˡⁱᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ ⁽ᵃ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ⁾ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁿᵉᶜʳᵒᵖʰⁱˡⁱᵃ “ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉᑫᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍʳᵒˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵐᵒʳᵇⁱᵈ ᵈᵉʳᵃⁿᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧” ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉʲᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵃⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ʳᵉˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᶜᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵍⁱˡᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉˡʸ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴬ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉ ᵇʸ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃʳʸ ᵗʳᵃᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍʰᵒᵘˡⁱˢʰ ᶠᵒˡᵏˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴵⁿ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉ‧ ᵀᵃᵖʰᵒᵖʰⁱˡᵉˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵘᵃˡˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ’ˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴮᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵃ ᶠᵘⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵉˢˢ ᵒʳ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ‧ ᴰᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ˢⁱᵗ ᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴬˢᵏ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ʳᵘᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ‧ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ‧

🌈 🏘 🌈 🏪 🎭 🎪 🌈 🏤 🌈

🫎

⣏⣉⠀⢸⣿⣭⡟⠒⠶⡤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠠⠀⠄⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⠉⠠⢀⣀⡀⠀⠉ ⡇⠀⢀⢺⡇⠸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠠⣼⣽⢏⠉⠛⠓⠒⠲⠧⠤⠤⢤⣤⣄⣂⣂⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⢠⣿⢉⣷⡀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⣾⢻⣮⣀⣀⣀⣀⢤⣟⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡏⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⣿⠊⠉⠹⠛⡶⢶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡿⠀⡈⣿⡆ ⡇⠄⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢩⡿⠀⣼⡗⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠿⣧⣾⡿⡶⣵⣶⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠴⣖⢻⣿⡕⣴⡟⠅⠀ ⠁⣸⣏⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠅⠀⠁⢻⣤⣤⡶⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⣸⠻⠟⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⢾⡇⠀⠀⢰⡟⡌⠠⠈⠉⣿⡟⣽⠟⠝⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠋⠁⢹⣼⣅⣻⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⠗⠲⠥⣤⣄⣀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣮⣆⠀⠀⢹⡇⣟⡀⠰⠿⢷⡁⠀⠀⣶⣟⣻⠩⢅⡀⣻⡯⠽⣿⡿⠗⠀⠀ ⠸⡧⠂⠀⠀⢰⡿⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⢶⡦⠤⢤⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⠶⠶⠦⠤⠤⣤⣼⣯⠉⠉⠉⠉⠹⣯⣂⣠⣼⡄⣻⠄⠀⢅⡾⠋⣠⣶⢿⠒⠛⠋⠉⢻⣷⣷⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣧⡆⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡆⠀⠁⠯⠤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣯⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠈⣿⠟⠋⢿⠙⠋⠛⢩⣿⡛⠀⣨⣄⣠⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣾⠆⠈⠻⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⣽⣂⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣶⠶⠶⠒⢲⡏⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⢸⡤⠉⠀⣠⣿⡛⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⢸⣟⠀⠀⠀⠹⣯⣄⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄⠀⠀⡀⡀⣀⠀⠹⡯⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⡄⢀⣻⠇⣀⣾⠟⠒⢲⡟⡀⢠⡟⠕⠁⡉⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠈⢿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣶⢈⣼⠲⠧⠤⢤⣤⣸⣃⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⡀⠀⠀⠀⣡⣘⠀⠀⣷⡀⠀⠂⠀⠻⣶⣠⡿⣛⠋⠇⠀⢀⣠⣟⣛⣫⡬⠤⠶⠖⣾⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⢠⠜⡧⣖⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡿⡃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠈⠉⠉⠙⠉⢭⡿⡿⠿⢿⠛⠻⠒⠲⠒⠛⣿⠥⠤⡤⢤⢴⣾⠿⠷⠛⠛⠍⢉⢍⣽⢟⣋⣉⠀⣀⠀⠀⣹⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⢠⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣯⠭⣬⠽⠶⢲⣖⡛⠻⣯⣡⠈⠉⠹⣷⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⡛⠶⡶⣼⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠦⣦⣤⣤⣤⣼⡀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⢹⠅⠀⠈⢷⣄⠀⠈⠹⣾⣀⣴⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⢰⠖⠒⠒⣲⣶⠶⠒⠷⣯⣳⢮⣠⠀⠀⢸⢷⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠉⣷⡒⠖⠺⣯⠀⠀⢸⡃⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠨⠀⢠⣶⠏⠉⠙⠉⠙⣇⠙⡷⢮⣙⠯⣟⠛⠉⠉⠻⣼⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣥⠀⣼⣏⣂⡤⢸⣠⣤⣥⣴⢧⣥⡤⠤⡾⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢣⣬⣷⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⢿⠀⢈⣍⠗⠶⢥⣄⡀⠙⣯⠄⢠⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣸⣛⣀⣖⡈⣿⣿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠹⠷⠛⠻⣽⣄⠹⣮⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡅⢶⣶⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣀⠈⣧⠘⠶⣼⣋⠄⢴⣶⣂⣉⠻⣮⣗⢛⠀⠈⢿⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠻⠉⠀⠉⠋⠛⠛⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢸⣯⢀⠙⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢠⣿⣳⠄⠀⢠⣾⣷⠶⡾⠿⣾⣷⣍⣛⢶⣄⢙⠿⠿⣎⡙⢷⣅⡀⠀⢿⡧⠀⢰⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠈⠉⠹⢿⣷⣿⡟⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠇⢻⣅⠀⠰⣟⣻⡦⠉⠃⠀⠀⠻⢤⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠠⠀⠈⠸⠿⠋⠩⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠙⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⣘⣀⣀⣀⣉⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀

daily affirmations ˙ᵕ˙ ❤︎ i won’t be so hard on myself ❤︎ i belong here ❤︎ i am worthy of what i desire ❤︎ i love me always ❤︎ happiness is in my hands

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago steelerb56 ᴴᴼᴿᴿᴼᴿ ˢᵀᴼᴿʸ. The doomsday preacher at my mom's church predicted the end in 2 months and I shook my head and chuckled. I totally forgot that was two months ago as the oncoming tractor trailer veered into my lane.

Which season are you✨ Fall 🍂☕️ Winter ❄️ 🧤 Spring💐☀️ Summer 🌻🌞

●be polite 😊

❀💠🌴🌺🍹🇺🇸🌋༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ◡̈‧₊˚✩彡🍉 / ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

🌎🇳🇬🇳🇬🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

🍃⃝⃤🦊╶⃝⃤✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧ice☃꙳·❅°*˖❄️

𝓫𝓾𝓼 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐥, 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 & 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 -𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

(ó﹏ò｡)

🧸,🍪,🐾,🐻

🧸✨🤎

🧸ྀི ♭୧⩜⃝Ʀ ᯓ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

(〃´𓎟`〃)˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)(*´▽`*)❀.( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )づ♡･°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°.(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)⚝🫶🏼___ ★₊˚﹟🪐 '(⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـʚ♡⃛ɞ(•ᴗ•❁)ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 🧸🎀 my beties. google

:0🪐🇺🇸🤛🏻😙🤜🏻(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)🌫

YALL ISTG YOU ALL MAKE ME WANT TO KMS, STOP TYPING IN THIS AND JUST LET ME FIND EMOJIS, I WANT FUCKING COQUETTE EMOJIS BITTCH. 😭😭😭😭˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧-`♡´-૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ʚɞ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ౨ৎજ⁀➴

🌴🥥✰

🌨☃⛄🧊❄️⛸️⛇🗻🌬️🐻‍❄️⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆☕🛷🧤⛾☃︎✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🥌⛇🧸🌡️

https://scontent-dfw5-2.cdninstagram.com/o1/v/t16/f1/m84/604D0064A3B46C5C34B0169CB7A9D198_video_dashinit.mp4?efg=eyJxZV9ncm91cHMiOiJbXCJpZ193ZWJfZGVsaXZlcnlfdnRzX290ZlwiXSIsInZlbmNvZGVfdGFnIjoidnRzX3ZvZF91cmxnZW4uZmVlZC5jMi41NzYuYmFzZWxpbmUifQ&_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-2.cdninstagram.com&_nc_cat=108&vs=311602891465589_4050921227&_nc_vs=HBksFQIYTGlnX2JhY2tmaWxsX3RpbWVsaW5lX3ZvZC82MDREMDA2NEEzQjQ2QzVDMzRCMDE2OUNCN0E5RDE5OF92aWRlb19kYXNoaW5pdC5tcDQVAALIAQAVABgkR0twaTd4WWRsZThLMnI0REFLQW5CVmtka0xBMWJwa3dBQUFGFQICyAEAKAAYABsAFQAAJsaz8aWu8cg%2FFQIoAkMzLBdARHMzMzMzMxgSZGFzaF9iYXNlbGluZV8xX3YxEQB16gcA&ccb=9-4&oh=00_AfDT8kmZrgspOVwWvQ1ZuPw9mprBLVhuEPc5wD9SE1PRHg&oe=6518B80C&_nc_sid=2999b8

Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run, you fool? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss.