I put on my sunglasses, to hide my swollen eyes, over my tears. I cried all my makeup off. Went inside to have a milkshake. I donāt know why. I wanted something to drink as I figured out what I would do. I got a soda and a milkshake. Medium. The cashier looked at me and with a line around the corner of the counter he rushed away from the counter āHold on ā he yelled to a coworker.
I filled my soda and went back and saw him looking all over. I go up and he gets close and says āI made it a largeā.
That was seriously enough for me not to do it. His kindness. Someone went out of their way and as I went back in my car to cry I realized I could muster through a few other days. A few more weeks. Then I came down from that panicky high of anxiety, depression, and pain. I finished my shake. And it was enough time to let me feel better. I⦠Iām alive. Iāll make it through.
Try and be nice today. Tomorrow. Something as much as a smile. It helped so much.
Thank you man at McDonalds.
The milkshake saved my life
I hope you all can read this and remember to be kind
The smallest of gestures can save a life. My Mum answered her phone when I called and I am alive today because of that.
Iām glad youāre here.
Itās a phone call, a milkshake, a friend.
I feel like I shouldnāt keep reblogging this but when I do more people see what kindness can doā¦. I donāt know. Love everyone as yourself.
Nah, keep rebloging it. It gives hope.
walked sobbing around a city once wearing a summer dress in mid-september thunder and rain. basically dragged myself into LUSH as the smell of the store always made me smile. the shop was empty and dead due to the weather, just this blonde short woman behind the counter who smiled at me. i stared at her feet and askedĀ ādo you have anything for people who are scared a lot?ā (i was so out of it i had no clue). she showed me two bath bombs, one pink and one blue, and said both were good – i chose the pink, paid for it and left. i then sat at a bus stop clutching the LUSH bag in one arm and my prescription meds in the other – iād lied and ordered a refill so i could just drift away with sleeping pills. when the bus arrived and i was out of the rain, i decided to have another look at my bath bomb, smell it and what not. opened my bag and saw sheād put the blue one in there for me as well and written on the receiptĀ āfeel better soon š hope you like xā.Ā
no one had ever been so selflessly kind to me before, i didnāt know what to do with it except hang around long enough to use the other bath bomb.Ā
Actually Iām going to reblog this again because of the truth of the inverse: think of any time you have been casually cruel or petty to someone for humor or because you werenāt in a great mood.Ā
THATS THE TOE NECKLACE PERSON AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH
this is genuinely so fucking disgusting and horrifying. let her rest in peace and stop being a racist piece of shit with a CHILDāS REMAINS
Chiming in as a professional osteologist: this is wildly unethical and unfortunately extremely common. Big shock, but most bone hoarders are entirely ignorant of history and/or racist shit heads who powertrip off the opportunity to own somebody elseās remains. Most are unspeakably boring people who feel the need to pretend to be a witch / cultist / scientist / curator so that someone will think they are edgy and cool, and either donāt know/ donāt care that many older medical specimens were obtained before consent and professional codes of ethics were a thing. Inevitably, academic institutions clean up the messes that these idiots leave behind, and this behavior isnāt victim free. There is a huge difference between donated medical specimens, and whatever the fuck this situation is. Nobody ever consented to be shown off like a trophy by some empty-headed scene kid whose grasp of human decency is even shittier than her dye job.