Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.
Years ago, like 20+ years ago, I was taking a college psychology class, and I met a girl who was taking the same class with the same professor but a different part of the day than me. So, we weren’t in class together. She did not have the money to buy the text book. My dad bought my books for me. So, in the evenings, I would write out the portions of the book she needed for assignments, exams, and quizzes in an e-mail and send it to her. It was very time consuming. I’m not even sure if that’s legal, likely not as it was enough for her to not have to buy the book. But it helped her immensely, and I don’t regret it lol I know what it’s like to not have enough money for something essential. And I remember having no idea what I would do if my dad did not buy my books. Where do they think an 18 year old is going to get $500+?
Back then, these phones with the cameras and all weren’t really a thing or as popular yet. And I had no scanner and never really thought of making copies somewhere, which would have been much easier. So, I spent hours just sitting there writing the text out for a complete stranger I never even met face to face.
I met her in a group online where she wrote that she couldn’t buy the book yet and was desperate for help and pleaded with anyone to send her the content. I could feel the desperation in her posts. She had no idea what to do. No one else responded, so I did. Saved her ass 😆
I love posts like this because it’s uplifting & heartwarming & inspiring to see the goodness in humans. When we share our acts of kindness, it can inspire others to be kind or just brighten their day.
(I have sunscreen & olive oil on my skin/hair, so if I look greasy, that’s why 😆)
I’m bleeding out So if the last thing that I do Is bring you down I’ll bleed out for you So I bare my skin And I count my sins And I close my eyes And I take it in I’m bleeding out I’m bleeding out for you, for you
I donated platelets! Just eight days after donating whole blood!
This is my first platelet donation in a few years.
It takes hours hooked up to a machine with a needle and tube in both arms, for platelet donation. We’re restrained and can only move our legs and neck. The arms have to lay straight, can’t bend them or anything, the tubes in each one are hooked up to a machine. Can’t even look at our phone because we can’t hold anything. They do put a movie on for us. I watched “Jaws,” and the Red Cross nurse said “You picked a hell of a movie to watch while donating blood.” 🤣
Getting an itch or runny nose is the worst, there’s nothing that can be done about it. Just have to let the snots drip and itch go unscratched. I have allergies, so I tend to sneeze/get a runny nose. If you sneeze, you can’t cover your mouth & nose lol Awkward
The machine takes our blood through one arm and takes the platelets out of the blood, then it puts the rest of our blood back into our body through the other arm. They also have to inject us with stuff to reduce risk of blood clot and whatever else. It’s very, very, very rare, but I recently learned there’s a risk of death while donating platelets or any blood, even the simple whole blood routine. Say what??? Apparently, the risk is so low it’s not even worth mentioning to us, but I read it online.
It’s freezing cold when donating platelets. It’s something to do with whatever is happening to the body. It happens to anyone who donates platelets. It feels like being in a freezer even if the room is heated. They put a heated blanket on us and give us hand warmers, but eventually the heat runs out. We can probably request more.
They said most people don’t have this problem, but it makes me sick and lightheaded. Platelet donation always has. I feel like I’m going to pass out, even laying down. The feeling comes & goes throughout the donation. When I walk out after it’s over, I feel “under the weather.” I’m also all stiff because of not moving for hours. It also makes my whole face tingle and my fingertips. I don’t have this experience when donating whole blood, which is what I usually donate. I think it’s side effects of whatever they’re injecting me with, not the loss of platelets/blood doing this. There was one point where I thought, yeah, I’m not doing this again. Ever. Like ever. The next day, I’m back to my usual self.
The Red Cross said they need my platelets more now because of the ongoing platelet shortage crisis. We can donate once a week. They said the platelet crisis is extreme, there are so many more in need than are donating.
I guess I’m going to have to suck it up.
Me, after donating whole blood recently. (Again, the oily look is because I put various things on to protect my hair & skin against the elements)
It’s amazing that there are people sitting there hooked up to a machine for hours having parts of their body taken out for complete strangers. The Red Cross doesn’t pay their donors, but they occasionally give gifts and prize opportunities. They especially love platelet donors (and O blood donors because it’s the most needed blood type). The donors are getting nothing tangible out of it.
I was pleasantly surprised at how many other platelet donors were in there donating.
For the people who say people suck and there are no more good people, let’s remember our platelet donors. They are laying there for hours on a machine, some every week, giving parts of their own body away for people they’ll never meet. They aren’t just giving their body parts away but a significant amount of their time and some of their own comfort & health. And getting nothing in return.
I’m not a dedicated platelet donor, but there are people who are. There are people who haven’t missed a donation in many years. I would like to donate once a week and have tried before, but they said my body doesn’t produce enough platelets to keep giving them away. It only really makes enough for itself. Stingy bone marrow. Lol I also don’t want to risk becoming anemic, which can happen with frequent blood donation. I probably won’t donate every week, but if I have enough, I’ll try to frequently.
Donated platelets often go to cancer patients and organ transplant patients when theirs are too low.
I’m glad I donated, and even though it kind of makes me sick, it also uplifts me to know it’s going to help someone else, likely cancer patients. They have to sit in a chemo chair every week and a platelet transfusion chair, having no choice, I’m just in the donation chair, which is a gift. The least I can do is share that fortune with someone else. That’s the thought that motivates me to keep going. 💚
I keep saying I want another woman “to do life with” and connect with and cuddle, and take care of. I keep wondering where she is and getting depressed & lonely about not having her, asking where is my Dame in shining armor.
Then, a beautiful, absolutely adorable gay woman who looks like she just walked out of my fantasies, in the flesh, comes out of nowhere and tells me I’m cute (which NEVER happens, women don’t even usually show interest in me as a friend, they literally do not know I even exist), and I freeze up and turn into a blubbering, stuttering wreck with no sense of language, mumble a barely audible “thank you,” turn, and walk away as fast as I can.
What’s wrong with me 😂🤣 I was beaming all the way home, though, felt like I was walking on air lol
This is what they mean by useless sapphic 😆😍
💜
Nahh, ain’t no plans with a man 😆🤣💯 I have to get this t-shirt one day soon lolI’m not in New York, but, yes, I did! I attended Gay Game Night, a documentary on lgbtq+ rights activism, Drag Bingo where I got to see a drag show with Asia Monroe! 💜🏳️🌈B&w version 🖤
Yes, I have had two surgeries under general anesthesia. (Also had minor oral surgery while awake)
In 2007, when I was 20 years old, I was in unbearable pain off & on. I thought nothing of it because the episodes were brief, and I was young enough back then not to give a second thought to my health or mortality. Lol Those were the days.
I was about to turn 21 years old. Then, not long after turning 21 years old, I woke up fatigued, with chills, and as sick as I have ever been with a terrible, persistent throbbing ache in my side. It traveled up my back and stopped at a certain point and at that point turned into severe sharp pain that felt like broken glass moving around in the spot that I later found out is my kidney. It wouldn’t let up and kept worsening throughout the day. I tried getting a shower that morning and was too sick and weak and in too much pain. I slid down into the bathtub, leaning against it with my head on the side as the shower water was streaming onto me.
This was so unusual for me. I was always young and healthy, never even so much as a cold.
I knew something was very, very wrong. Intuitively, I just knew I would need surgery but had no idea what was happening inside me. I kept telling myself it’s just a badly pulled muscle and putting off going to a hospital. Everyone said it was probably my appendix because my age was a common age for it back then. And it was on the side where the appendix is and the same symptoms except I also had kidney pain.
I could feel something inside me about to rupture. I felt the pressure building up and the pain. Eventually, I knew I had to go to a hospital that day. My dad came home early after work and took me to a hospital emergency room where I found I needed emergency kidney surgery under general anesthesia because of a potentially life threatening complication of a kidney stone that got stuck in my kidney and was obstructing it & the ureter. There was no time to wait for other options, like to see if the stone would move. They said it was lodged into the kidney and blocking the ureter. It could no longer do its job. The kidney shut down and was enlarged. I only had one functioning kidney. Waiting could result in rupture, permanent damage, or even necessary kidney removal.
The doctors said it was very unusual for that to happen to someone as young as I was and to a woman. It usually happens to older men when it does.
They were confident enough but weren’t certain they could save the kidney or that it wouldn’t have some extent of lasting damage. Thankfully, the kidney made a full recovery. They said I got there just in time.
My recovery was extremely difficult, both physically & emotionally. I struggled hard every day with the pain and fact of not being my usual healthy self. I was sick and weak and in the worst pain everyday.
Back then, it was the most painful experience of my whole life.
My urologist back then told me it would likely happen again, that it usually happens more than once when it happens to someone, especially when it happens to a young person. But he did say a helathy diet can make it less likely.
Almost, twenty years later, and thankfully, it never happened again. I was told by my doctors more recently that as long as I drink an adequate amount of water each day, I can likely avoid any more kidney stones.
I do not recommend this experience. Please drink your water and flush out those kidneys. You do NOT want this. At best, it’s excruciating, at worst, you can lose a kidney (or even die). I almost did and can speak firsthand, which makes me an expert who you should listen to 🤣😂
Around seventeen years later, I had another surgery. Kidney related also. I gave my kidney (the one that kept me alive back then when this one shut down) to a man who was dying of kidney failure. You can read about that here. 💚💙 Best thing I ever did. 🫘 I wish I had more kidneys to give. If I could, I would give a kidney to everyone who needs one (with the exception of people who would use it to inflict suffering on others, as I don’t wish to enable that, but they aren’t too common).
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’
I recently had a strange experience. It’s so surreal and strange and unique to me that I don’t think anyone else can understand because to understand, you would have to be intimately familiar with my previous experience. And no one is. I kept it a secret for years until finally writing a very long post about it a couple years ago.
It’s a story that haunted me for years and needed telling, though. I thought I would take it to my grave. It was a cathartic experience writing it out and healed me in ways I did not realize still needed healing. It’s an experience that affected my self esteem and to this day, still does. It was agonizing, mortifying. Heartbreaking. I thought I could never get over it. It took me years to recover.
I’m going to share some of my story here.
Much of this is straight out of a previous post for some context, and then I share my strange related experience at the end.
When I was 21 years old, I met a woman. She was a bisexual woman who mostly dated men.
It was September.
And it was love at first sight.
She was laughing when I first saw her across the room. The gentle fluorescent light, playing up the highlights in her hair. I was instantly drawn in by her physical beauty. It caught me off guard. I see beautiful women everywhere and am distracted and moved. But this one was especially beautiful. She was breathtaking. I couldn’t peel my eyes away.
And her playfulness added to it. She was laughing and joking when I first encountered her. The way she threw her head back and laughed deeply, hysterically at something simple someone said, I was spellbound. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was like the rest of the world fell away and there was only her. And she was all I wanted, all I needed.
Even as I write this now, I feel a stirring of sorts in my chest as I remember that feeling and how it was just the beginning of what would become a tumultuous years long journey of passionate love, longing, ecstasy, and agony.
I found myself moving to get closer to her. To breathe her air, to bask in her ways, to better hear her voice. I made my way over without being noticed. I found myself staring, smiling ear to ear. I remember thinking somewhere deep within that this one was made to be mine.
I just felt she was going to have some significance in my world. And she did. She wrecked my world completely. Brought me to ruin. I thought I would never recover, never claw myself out of the debris of my crumbled life and self.
She was a small, white woman, with messy, wavy brown hair that fell, softly, to her shoulders. Brown/green eyes. Maybe hazel, if I remember correctly. I can’t believe I don’t really remember. But I remember they were warm and loving.
I could tell she was quite a bit older than me, around forty years old, so almost twenty years. The age difference did not faze me.
She wore glasses and looked adorable. She came off as humble and welcoming. Her clothes were what some may call “frumpy,” loose, sweat kind of clothes. I found it pleasing. Later I found that she also dressed up a lot, in girly, dressy clothes. But she had no problem dressing down in public, sometimes even when she would attend conferences and give speeches in front of lots of people, she would dress in sweat clothes. She would laugh about it and say how terrible she looked (she totally did not!). I found her even more beautiful dressed down with no makeup, hair messy. (I sound like a man, and it’s kind of cringe 🤣)
There was something sophisticated about her. She had an air about her. I already got the feeling she was intellectual, intelligent, before I knew anything about her. The way she carried herself, the backpack around her shoulder, the book in her arms. She seemed deep and aware. I was correct.
I later found out she was a teacher/college instructor, and writer and editor for some blogs and local news articles. She did workshops on writing and stuff like that. She had genius level intelligence. There was no hint of arrogance whatsoever. She was very successful with education and career. She did not have much money or health insurance though and felt this was an indication of being a failure in life.
I could tell she had a sense of humor because of her frequent, wholehearted laugh while interacting with people. This was something I fell in love with right away. A woman who can laugh, and deeply, with abandon. She was very social. Extroverted. She touched people frequently, pats on the back, hand on their arms. Reaching out to pull someone aside if she wanted to talk to them. She laughed at everything they said, joked, playful insults back and forth with the people she was with, funny sarcasm. She was witty and could take a joke. She loved risque jokes and inappropriate stuff, like I do, and wasn’t easily offended. She could be a perv like me. LoL She was very girly, but also “one of the guys.”
This, along with her physical attractiveness, made her irresistible to me. She had a soft smile on her face when I first saw her. She wasn’t looking at me and did not even know I was there. I felt something instantly for her. I wanted to make her mine. I knew I had to know more. She looks like Tina Fey (& frequently told that) and with a similar personality.
One day, I found her singing. Her voice was soft, soothing, gentle, like the voice of an angel, caressing all the depths of my being. Hauntingly beautiful. I could tell her singing was inspired by a place of deep pain. Not temporary pain. I could tell she knew a life of persistent or recurring pain. I don’t remember the words. The words weren’t important. It was the soft melancholy ache in her voice, in the passion of her song. It was as if there was a wellspring of sorrow within her, driving that kind of singing. It resonated with the ache in me. I had no idea she could sing like that.
I thought she was perfect.
And this made me love her.
I got to know her more and more and realized she wasn’t perfect.
And this made me love her so much more.
She was perfect to me.
Perfect for me.
She’s the one I wanted by my side for the rest of this life.
Arrogantly, I thought I was perfect for her too and that she would agree. This is where I went so so wrong and suffered immense heartbreak. For years I thought she broke it, but it was all my own doing, letting myself be so dependent on the expectation that I would be someone to her when in reality she wanted nothing at all to do with me. And the not knowing why and the wondering nearly k!lled me.
I remember that feeling. The feeling that I found her. It stirs something in me now. It’s not her anymore who gives me that feeling, just the memory making emotions resurface, and the fact that it can happen again as I have the ability to experience this. A kind of nostalgic and anticipatory thrill. And I like it.
She was everything I thought she was and more. Compassionate. Intellectual. Deep. Hilarious (like incredibly hilarious, I imagined us laughing for hours together). Just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. Political. Progressive. Educated. Determined. Strong. All this and more. She was generally respectful while engaging with people who were difficult or ignorant, but she could be snarky and snippy.
I found myself on occasion, wondering how this incredible woman wasn’t already mine. How on Earth I’m just finding her now. It felt that we have and should have already known each other for years (I told her that once online, and she liked my comment). I’m not a believer in an afterlife of any sort but truly, I felt I have loved and known her in life after life. That we were bound together, made for each other by the heavens above, some cosmic force or magic holding us together.
I thought of her frequently when she wasn’t around. She was always on my mind. Whenever our paths crossed, I was overjoyed and ecstatic. My whole body would become energized. I would get giddy for the rest of the day and not know what to do with myself. I loved her and wanted her to be mine. I wanted her by my side all life long. I would daydream & fantasize. I did not tell anyone about my secret love. Not family or close friends.
I loved the secret longing. It gave me a thrill, particularly because there was always that possibility we would eventually belong to each other. After the rejection, years later, that thrill was mostly gone, the thrill she may someday be mine and was replaced by deep pain, sometimes life draining pain, but the thrill of loving her and knowing someone so beautiful exists, remained.
I would see her, randomly, and make it a point to walk by her, hoping she would notice and think I’m pretty or interesting. But she never did. If I would see her walking a certain direction, I would walk that way, hoping to run into her. If I saw her having lunch with people, I would sit close by, hoping she would notice, and also just to be in her presence.
But she did not really know I existed(literally she did but it felt like she did not). When I met her face to face, she did not seem as smitten with me as I was with her. She seemed to like me, just not actively interested in being my friend, it seemed. She was polite and friendly with me, but nothing more. I was very shy and did not know how to initiate anything and was too shy to often begin conversations with her.
Once in a while I got up the nerve to try but did not know how to really express how interested in her I was, did not know how to form a friendship. All my friends were people who showed interest in me first and introduced me to their friends and then we became friends. This woman did not show interest in being more than an acquaintance, if even that.
Sometimes she would see me and come to say hello and ask how I am. She would sometimes tell me what kind of day she was having or plans for her Saturday night (which was often staying at home reading a book/watching a movie and drinking wine). I would ask her questions about herself or her day/weekend, and she would respond and ask me a couple things, and that would be it. It never went anywhere, and I did not know how to direct it somewhere.
I also had inclination for calling her and thinking of her as Baby, sweetheart, honey, love, darling, babe…as terms of endearment or affection, something I only rarely experience and when I do only for women. I did call her that occasionally while commenting on her pictures and stuff. So did others.
Just seeing her sent some joy and ecstasy through me, like electricity. I became full of excessive energy and very talkative with my friends, laughing hysterically at everything everyone said. My smile hurt my face. It was like getting a “fix” for the day. I was bouncing off the walls all day and night. I was all giddy, my heart racing. I felt like running through the city frolicking about, laughing and singing.
I felt the uni-verse gave me the most incredible gift there is to give, letting me catch an unexpected glimpse of her. This was long before sending her the messages. I lost sleep over her so many nights, even before the rejection because I couldn’t get her off my mind. It was a good thing. I stayed up imagining us becoming close, imagining all the great things we would do together, thinking about how beautiful she was. I used to stay up til 4:30am, dancing around my room just thinking how someone so amazing exists.
My dad used to come into my room complaining about me being up singing, dancing around at that hour. 😆 He would hear me and come bursting through my door yelling “KIM!! What the HELL are you still doing up at this hour?!” I was bouncing off the walls. 😭 The energy she stirred in me wouldn’t let me rest. I seriously needed no sleep. It kept me going all day and night. I was never tired.
Eventually, we did not cross paths in person anymore. There was no defining moment when I realized I wouldn’t see her again, so it wasn’t as gutwrenching as it would have been. Circumstances just changed. But I carried my love for her for years. It never ended. I held onto the hope that we would see each other again. The hope wasn’t always active. I wasn’t constantly thinking about it. I knew she was out there somewhere, and somewhat close. This was enough for me.
My love for her would take the back burner once in a while, then reappear strong. Sometimes I would find a new woman to be all ga ga over. Not seeing this woman for a while, my love kind of mellowed out, but I carried it with me, hoping to run into her again. Once in a while it would become more active again. I would still daydream about her, sometimes fall asleep thinking of her even years later. There would be “flares” of thinking of her and longing for her then they would fade a bit.
My love stayed calm and hopeful off and on until one day I happened to accidentally come across her on Twitter. I had an online friend who had a Twitter account and I was looking at his and saw he re-tweeted something of hers. Imagine my surprise! To see her beautiful face again years later. She was around 45 years old, and I was 27 years. It was four years since last seeing her in person or having any contact with her. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest! I did not have a Twitter account but could see hers. I loved everything she posted. She was very politically Liberal, she called out racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny.
She did this even way before it was the cool mainstream thing to do. She shared all her opinions. This inspired me to look her up on Facebook and Google. It wasn’t in a creepy way. I looked her up on Facebook because we did kind of know each other to a point. If we did not ever know each other, I wouldn’t have. She was popular online and had years worth of writings and stuff, and I found so much of it. Her Facebook account was public, and she had many strangers as friends so I felt it wasn’t too creepy to request her as an online friend. She accepted.
I saw that she had a YouTube channel, blog, and Instagram account where she shared every aspect of her life and every thought that crossed her mind, even things most would not make public, like cheating on her husband with a married man, both of their marriages ruined, having an abortion without telling her husband (not saying she should have had to, but this is something most people wouldn’t broadcast to the world lol), she admitted to once dating and then moving in with a man just to use him for his money and place to live and things, when she wasn’t really in love with or interested in him for him, getting into arguments with people, the falling out she had with various friends and family members…She was a pill addict at one point and mentally unstable. Sometimes she wanted to k.ill people and would throw fits in public. She was in & out of psychiatric hospitals.
She was extremely passionate about openly supporting minority groups of any kind. She visited other cultures and learned their customs and languages. She denounced public figures/celebrities/popular people who expressed prejudicial attitudes against minority groups. She volunteered and donated money to organizations supporting minority groups.
She got a lot of criticism, even threats, but this did not stop her. She traveled and gave public speeches on LGBTQIA+ and racial minority issues. She wrote blog posts and newspaper articles on the issues. She did all this while battling debilitating mental illness and devastating headaches. I was in awe.
All this deepened my awe of her. Every terrible thing she did and shared and every great thing about her all clashed into a beautiful disarray of seasons and colors and everything. She was a beautiful disaster. My goodness was she beautiful in every way, the embodiment of beauty itself.
I wondered if her husband was out of his mind letting her go. I would have kept her and taken her back again and again.
We both held the rare philosophy that romantic love is not better than platonic love and friendship and that platonic love is equally fulfilling and important. And we both did not want to get married (she said once was enough for her, but she still wanted love).I thought there couldn’t be a more amazing person.
It wasn’t that I loved her “anyway.” That could have been true also.But I loved her even more, *because*. I don’t particularly have a thing for users, cheaters, homewreckers, liars, slobs (her apartment had roaches because it wasn’t clean lol), troublemakers, … it’s just because it was HER.
I also found out we loved the same kinds of stuff, books, music, cafes, movie theatres, shopping…
This is when I fell so madly in love. If I thought it was love before, this was on a whole other plane.
One day she shared that she found a dead mouse outside and she sat down and cried next to it, then buried it. She posted a picture of the mini memorial/grave she made for it. It was heartwarming, and I longed to hug her. This deepened my conviction that we were soulmates. I rarely to never meet people who care when a rodent or insect dies like I do. She would even feed roaches outside if she saw them and so do I. Lol Giving them bread or pretzels and some water. I have never known someone so compassionate except the Buddhists I used to hang out with Her and me are atheists.
I felt we were soulmates. I wanted a relationship with her that is more interconnected or close than close best friends usually are. But I would have been absolutely thrilled to have her in any context, even if she was a casual acquaintance or work friend. Most of my pain was not having any contact with her. I just wanted her in my world in some way. I was so super jealous of her friends and acquaintances because I did not have her in any way except a few social media comments/likes here and there. It was so tantalizing.
I wanted nothing but her. I wanted her to be mine and to take care of her forever.I felt like any problem I ever had would disappear if she was mine. So I sent her a long message, two actually, (don’t know how I got up the nerve but I did and wholeheartedly regretted it lol It was and still is uncharacteristic of me to be so bold) gushing about how we could be amazing friends and live close enough to hang out and do everything together since we like all the same stuff and she unfriended my account, after not responding for a few days. lol (definitely was NOT laughing back then)
I saw people who were strangers to her but lived close enough, commenting on her posts asking to get coffee or ice cream with her and her agreeing. She was very social and a bit popular because of all her activism work and volunteering and she had a large social media and blog following, mostly by people in our city. So my message to her was not completely out of the ordinary for her who did get lots of requests to meet up and hang out and she was always getting compliments on her physical beauty and personality. I had lots of competition; everyone loved her. She also got a lot of negative comments by a-holes who did not like her political views or just wanted to troll. This would infuriate me and I wanted to tell them all off. LoL I was very protective and defensive of her. I could not stand her getting negative comments. To me, she was perfection.
Back then, her rejection was the worst thing ever, and triggered a two month long major depressive episode thankfully not a s*icidal one but still debilitating – I was able to keep the s*icidal thoughts under control and I had close friends, which helped, even though they did not know what was going on, exactly, but I had difficulty getting out of bed each morning and getting to work, my body was so heavy and most of my joy in life was gone, s*icidal thoughts tried to emerge but I was able to keep them away, I saw no hope for any future for me, no food had flavor, I couldn’t sleep, no motivation to do anything – all I thought about was her and why she did not want me, was I not good enough…
My whole self felt so broken; it felt like I wasn’t whole, like I would never be because of this experience. I felt the rejection of someone and something I desperately wanted, but also, I felt a deep deep sense of loss. She was never mine to lose, but still I felt deep, profound loss. There was always that possibility. Beautiful potential. At least in my mind. But it was snatched away because of my decision to reach out and make myself and my love known. Oh. How I regretted it so. For years. How I regretted it. I regretted everything I said. Every word of it.
I remember this was one of the things that made it especially difficult to move on. I felt that I was irreparably broken, that I was now tarnished and would never be able to love anyone ever again. It felt like something significant, something inherent to me being me, was cut off permanently. I felt that I became a lesser version of me, a hollow version, a shadow or shell of what I was before I reached out to her. She was so much an essential part of me (with my perspective) or my love for her was, that it seemed impossible to have a full life loving her when she did not love me at all. It was like what good is life when the most important thing to me isn’t in mine. It’s a bit deeper than I know how to put into words.
I feel it’s coming off more superficial than it was. It wasn’t simply a matter of I can’t have her what good is life, that too. It was more that my love for her felt so fundamental to my core or identity that I felt somehow altered at a cellular level, almost like I wasn’t the full me anymore that I was. Like an identity crisis. It felt like this part of me , loving someone to this extent, this depth, this magnitude, who does not love me even just a little bit, is making me less the girl I was.
It physically sickened me to the point my headache disorder flared up unbearably for weeks and it felt like life was crumbling on top of me. The headaches were devastating, even more devastating than the emotional pain, in a way. I find physical pain of this magnitude to be even more difficult to cope with than emotional pain. It felt like my face being burned alive on one side. I have been depressed before over losses, exclusion, but this was different.
To get to see so much of her life (she was very open about every single aspect of her life, social, emotional, dating, romantic, sexual, marriage, interests, politics, religion, family, health/medical…She was raw, open, honest…and this is one of the things I loved most about her, how she shared herself with the world. I find being “an open book,” a very attractive quality in people) displayed on my screen and not getting to be a part of it in any way, was pain like I can’t explain.
She was my everything and more, and to not be good enough for her was a pain that is indescribable. Everyday, the pain ripped through me emotionally and physically. It felt like my life was over. I couldn’t see a future without her now that I found her. I truly felt that way for a while, that without her, life had nothing to offer me. But at the same second, the joy it brought me just to cross paths with her and know someone that beautiful exists, was out of this world. I was so amazed by the sharp contrast of joy and pain she brought me. They existed alongside one another, never touching or tainting each other. They never mixed or outweighed each other. They both had a place within. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming gratitude for just having crossed paths with her in this life and the knowledge of how wonderful she was, the pain would have been so much more difficult to bear. But the pain did not touch the gratitude, making it so I had that to lean on to carry me through it.
While the pain and joy were both equal, in fact, the joy was even deeper, I had to eventually give into the pain and let her go around three years later – the depression lifted after two months but the heartbreak continued – I stayed in love with her for the next couple years, after I stopped looking at all her content. I stalked it for a few years, then stopped, still actively loved her for a couple more years even after cutting off all contact with her content, til it eventually faded. It mellowed and gradually faded til it flickered out completely and thoughts of her were no longer painful or joyful. For a while I was still embarrassed and hoped she deleted the messages. LoL 😆 Kind of still low-key embarrassed.
Another thing that helped me get over her is leaning into the selfless aspect of my love for her. There was a part of that love that wasn’t for me. A part that wanted nothing but for her to be happy, healthy, fulfilled. A part that did not yearn or attach or expect. I seized that small but powerful aspect and leaned into it, nourished it, clung to it, until it grew, strengthened, deepened, magnified, and became enough.
That aspect of my love reminded me what an honor it was to get to feel this love for someone, it let me know my love wasn’t in vain, that it still mattered, still counted for something. It showed me the beauty in loving at a distance, of carrying a love so strong for someone I will never lay eyes on, someone I will never embrace, someone I will never have. It showed me a deep deep selflessness and let me live it each day. It reminded me that it’s a reflection of me, but it’s not about me. I was able to let go of so much of the selfish aspect of love, the part that makes us covet.
The part that expects and demands and is often conditional. I leaned so deeply into the selfless aspect until I submerged, til it eased some of the ache, the burn of rejection, until it made that selfish agonized part softer and softer, until it made me strong enough to endure without crumbling, and then that state gave way to the indifference, the indifference that eventually ensued after all the heartache and ruin, the indifference that set me free and gave me my life back.
In fact, the kind of person she was is one of the things that inspired me to cope and eventually heal. She was the kind of person who saw beauty in pain and brokenness, art in imperfection, she saw love & life & light in dark places, and a chance for healing in deep wounds. I harnessed that energy. And I put it to use in myself. I saw beauty in my pain and the brokenness of unrequited love. I saw my life of loving her as a beautiful novel, like the novels she read full of dark and despair, full of heartache, but also so much love and beauty. I saw love & life & light in my darkness, and I saw my wound, my deep deep gaping wound, as an opportunity to nourish and heal a part of myself that was so shattered. And I leaned into this.
The person I allowed to break me because I depended so much on and expected so much of her is the very person I leaned on to inspire me to heal that brokenness. Loving her so deeply for so long, she became my way of life, and that way helped me move forward out of the devastation that came upon my world. She was my darkness & my light, my joy and my pain, my despair & my hope, she’s the one I clung to so desperately for so long and the one who taught me how to let go. The one who brought me to ruin and my savior who pulled me out of that ruin. There was a beautiful irony in all of this that wasn’t lost on me. It’s a true story that she would have read and found so beautiful.
To keep dwelling on her and stalking her (lol) was keeping me in agony and doing me no good. The pain had more of a destructive effect overall than the joy had a positive effect. The pain was about not having her as my own but also the fact of being rejected and not understanding why. I know everyone doesn’t like everyone, especially not in a deep way, but she did not even want me as an online friend anymore.
It was hard to cope and understand. I had very good self esteem, always have, and this rejection was a blow to it. The fact that she responded to everyone else, even strangers, and loved everyone, but rejected me, made it so much more difficult to cope. One of my messages to her was about my s*icidal depression, something she talked about very frequently, about herself. She was very very open about her struggle.
I told her about my own struggle, which is very similar to hers. I’m open about it in general but told her more than I ever told anyone because I felt this deep connection to her in our similar struggle. I told her that I too sometimes come close to ending myself. It cut me so deeply because shortly after I sent her the message about my depression and sometimes s*icidal thoughts(I sent this a while after the love letter), she posted, “To anyone considering s*icide, please remember this world needs you.”
And she posted the s*icide hotline. To see her care about everyone else and not me was devastating. I felt like it was a slap in the face. Not that I was entitled to her love or a response but that did not make my pain any less to see my own pain ignored and me rejected but that she cared about other s*icidal people. It’s hard to explain without sounding entitled. I in no way felt that she owed me anything(I even remember feeling guilty for my pain and sense of rejection, telling myself she doesn’t owe me a thing, that I’m the one who found and came at her), but it did not make me want it any less. I wasn’t angry or bitter but devastated.
I felt that I wasn’t good enough for anyone after the rejection and took a while to recover. I couldn’t cope knowing “the most amazing person who ever walked the face of the Earth” did not love me. lol It was a matter of “If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone.” It was like we were made for each other and if I can’t have her what’s the sense of having anyone? It was one of the deepest, most intimate loves I have ever known and I was sure I would never feel it again. I thought I would never get over it. I couldn’t understand why she did not feel the same.
She was so out of my league in every way, but I know that’s not why she rejected me. She wasn’t arrogant and dated/was friends with people of lower status.
Everything was so perfect and compatible, even our location was close(this is one of the main reasons for my pain, it was so tantalizing to have her so close in location but not have her, it would have been perfect). She loved women, so not like she was creeped out that another woman was in love with her. Also, she, like me, was very social and added strangers to her account.
And she was promiscuous, hooked up with lots of women and men she hardly knew and did not know at all, and was very open about it, even going into detail about her usual hookups, how she cheated on her now ex husband with a married man and it ruining both of their marriages, and drunken hookups and abortions and stuff, so I don’t think she cared that someone she hardly knew messaged her, probably all my sap creeped her out(it was a long love letter of nothing but praise and how I understand her completely and how we would be so good together forever – I’m laughing now lol I probably sounded desperate and clingy).
Her rejection did not weaken my love for her at all. It made no sense to me how, why we both existed in this same life together, so so alike, so compatible, my love for her so strong, yet we couldn’t have each other or have any interaction at all with each other.
I felt like the uni-verse made us for each other. And I couldn’t make sense of the fact that she did not like me even just a little bit. It made no sense. On top of my amazing self esteem thinking I was the shiz just in general and that anyone could like me (oh how this has changed), the fact we were both so similar, and that she basically loved everyone, I thought she was bound to like me. So I was totally confused and shocked to be rejected even as an online acquaintance. The devastation was debilitating.
We were similar in even ways that can’t be explained, like quirks that you think only you experience, or just little things that you think make you you and no one else can be like that. I was amazed! I never send friend requests, but I did send her one, and she accepted. She was more active on Insta, which I did not have, and her blog, and YouTube channel. She never liked or commented on any of my posts or pictures on social media. But she did occasionally respond to my comments to her or like them. We did not really interact much as friends, though.
Just out of nowhere, for some reason, I chose to be bold and tell her that I loved her. Have no idea what possessed me. LoL I remember my heart was pounding in anticipation as I was sending it and expecting a response that she would love to meet me again.
I remember waking up one morning and on the spur of the moment thinking “I think I’ll tell her I love her today.” I jumped out of bed, literally. LoL I sprung up and jumped with joy at the thought of connecting with her. I worked all day on the messages and poured my heart and soul into them. It took me days to get everything written out and edited and then finally I sent two messages and waited.
For days I waited and she wouldn’t respond. I would see her keep posting on social media and not responding to me. Actually what I remember is, she was very active on social media/blog/YouTube… posted every single day, all throughout the day. And after I sent her the messages, she stopped posting everywhere for a few days. That was extremely unusual for her. Then she came back and began posting everyday again but not responding to me.
Then finally she unfriended my account. Imagine the initial sting of clicking on her account and seeing “Add friend” and then the deep deep pain of all that entailed and implied, of everything it meant. I hoped so much she would change her mind and held out hope til I finally had to accept she wasn’t going to respond and did not love me. The first thing I thought is that I came on too strongly.
I only did because she was that kind of person, herself. If she was more reserved, even if I liked her, I wouldn’t have sent messages like that. She talked about how she scared men away who she was dating or into because of how much emotion and love she had. She was kind of clingy. And she talked about how she overshared about everything, way too often, with everyone, even strangers.
And I saw that in her YouTube videos, and she would stop and say “Wait, was that too much information?” LoL It would make me laugh. She said the more we share about ourselves, even ugly and awkward things, the more people have the opportunity to know us and therefore love us. And also that it empowers others to be themselves and feel less alone. I wholeheartedly agreed. I wrote to her one day that there is no such thing as too much information or too much love.
Maybe she just couldn’t handle being the recipient, herself.It absolutely k!lled me wondering why others were good enough for her but not me. She had many lovers and friends and acquaintances and even strangers who she expressed love for through the years. She was a hopeless romantic and was sad to be single but she couldn’t get a relationship to work. I would have been overjoyed even to be a casual acquaintance and have even a fraction of her love.
Suddenly, a man showed up in all her pictures and blog posts and videos, constantly talking about how amazing he is. She said he wasn’t a boyfriend, but a very close platonic friend, and they were always holding hands and kissing on the cheek, and going to weddings and restaurants together. He was always calling her his girl and Babe and posting pics of her on his own account(I stalked his account, bitter at him for stealing my woman and the nerve to call her Babe 😆 I thought of her as my babe and my sweetheart, my girl) and she called him “my guy” and “my man” and posted pics of him on her account. It destroyed me because it was like the relationship I wanted with her.
But I focused more on my love for her than the pain after a while and was able to be happy she found a true friend even though I still experienced such deep pain for myself. It was hard not to be jealous of him. Like come out of nowhere and get the girl of my dreams. Like gtfoh lol
I remember them celebrating her birthday together and I was torn. In one way I was happy someone was being good to her and she was happy, but another part of me was jealous that I wasn’t included and angry at him for being to her what I wanted to be. It was so difficult. The pictures and posts they would share while out celebrating all night would bring me pain, yet also joy. And I was happy she was happy because I knew her birthdays were difficult for her because she couldn’t stand getting older.
So it was good to see him keeping her uplifted and happy. She also lost her job after a while and he was there to bring her comfort. I was happy but sorry it wasn’t me. I was concerned she would go into an episode of depression and hoped he was keeping her safe. I longed to reach out to her with some words of comfort but knew I couldn’t because she did not want me. I hoped so much he knew how to take care of her like I would.
I remember her posting a picture one day, New Year’s Eve, of her and him cuddled on her sofa together, her head resting on him. Her caption was something like “My main man{and his name}, I couldn’t have done this year without you.” I had mixed emotions about it. Part of me was thankful she had someone helping her through her difficult year. But so much of me was in anguish that I wasn’t in his position. It was an inner struggle of true love being happy for her but a selfish pain that it wasn’t me making her happy and giving her love and receiving her love. I experienced both gratitude and resentment for him. I would so so much prefer her to have him than no one and even have him over me if it’s what she genuinely wanted. But I wanted her to want me.
I was so pissed when he changed his Facebook and Instagram default photos to a picture of just her.
“I see you driving round town with the girl I love, and I’m like fuck you.” 😆😆
I was in so much pain every day and night. Emotionally and physically. The rejection triggered the two months long depressive episode to begin with. But through the years every once in a while I would go into another episode, usually lasting a month, about it. It would lift, and I would go back to the regular pain about it. I lived a regular happy life in general, just carried this pain with me that would flare once in a while.
Sometimes I would go a while without looking at her content or thinking of her much, then would look at her social media account, and a depressive episode/wave would be triggered. Or sometimes I would be in a low mood that I call a gateway state to depression; it’s not depression itself or even necessarily unhappiness but a tender state where I can feel if I’m not careful, I can become depressed. If I would think too much about her or check her social media accounts/blogs in this state, a depressive episode or wave could hit. This happened off and on til I was no longer interested in her.
My head throbbed relentlessly and the heartache was unbearable. I clung to anything I could for any bit of consolation. The main thing I found solace in was reading. I threw myself into books and read more than I ever read before. Mystery thrillers that kept me guessing what would happen next, intellectual readings to keep my mind active and thinking, personal development books that gave me tips for coping… anything to take my mind off her and my depression.
It was a mixture of grief and depression and it was Hell on Earth. Everything I read I would wish I could tell her about. She loved to read, too. I wanted to read books together and have hours long discussions. Every love song, I thought of her.
She had very low self esteem, body image issues, and bad luck with relationships. She dated people of any genders but especially men and had no luck. This is something that was getting to her. She said she felt lonely and left out everywhere, and I wanted to run to her rescue. I felt that I could make up for all those failed relationships of hers with all the love I had to give. I’m not this arrogant anymore.
She knocked me down a few pegs and I never quite got back up. Today, I don’t feel I have anything any woman could want or need. I don’t feel I’m loveable and think any woman can do better.
I used to be very arrogant, way back when. I thought I was all that and a bag of skittles. I remembered constantly feeling that arrogance, wearing it like a badge. I cringe now. I thought anyone who truly knew me, the real me, would love me. I thought I could heal people and make up for what they lost or have been lacking. To be this arrogant and show someone I would lay down my own life for, the deepest parts of myself, the authentic me, and being rejected was more than I could bear.
It shook my sense of self. Suddenly, I felt good enough for no one. I stopped complimenting people as much, stopped offering hugs, stopped showing up for anyone, feeling like I had nothing to offer. I’m glad she put me in my place and knocked me off of the pedestal I placed myself on because no one has any place being that full of themselves. I only wish it just humbled me, but instead, it gave me some self-esteem/worth issues.
The rejection of someone I loved with every fiber of my being and was ready and willing to love wholeheartedly, it just cuts so deeply and hits hard. She was a very emotionally unhealthy and complicated person when I think back, full of insecurities, and I longed to put them all to rest. I wanted to make her better so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, because I loved her and she was a good person.
She was a trainwreck, and it probably wouldn’t have been all rainbows and butterflies to get to love her, though I still would. Love isn’t supposed to be all perfection and happiness. (It shouldn’t be toxic either though, and thinking back, I have an inkling it could have been, with her, but I thought I would be able to calm her and make it so we have an easy love and life together) I loved her unconditionally.
I felt we were made to belong to each other. Like we were written in the stars. Sometimes on very rare occasions I have a feeling like there was a glitch somewhere in the uni-verse and we were made for each other but that glitch interfered. I don’t actually believe this, just a metaphor or something for a feeling I have.
Sometimes I wonder if there was some freak string of coincidental glitches in algorithms or something and she did not receive my messages and also accidentally got off my friends list. This can happen. Someone can accidentally get unfriended/unfollowed on social media. It has happened to me before. When I was sending her the e-mails, they wouldn’t go through at first. It kept saying there was an unexpected error, and I had to keep resending. But they did show up in my sent box, eventually. So they seemed to have gone through. It’s more likely she did receive them and unfriended my account. It seems too coincidental to get unfriended so close to after sending e-mails.
Sometimes when I think it could have been a mistake and she never received it because of a glitch in e-mail systems, and FB had some glitch, I experience a physiological reaction, a clenching in my gut, a dizzy sickly sensation, a fear sensation in my chest, an almost sweating sensation in the palms of my hands, to think it’s possible she could have loved me and we could have been together forever but it was prevented by a glitch. Though sometimes this thought has thrilled me, thinking there could still be a chance. Maybe I’ll run into her on the streets one day and she’ll send my heart racing and she’ll remember me and approach me first and all the stars will align and we’ll finally be together for the rest of forever. And one day I’ll tell her and we’ll laugh about it. A girl can dream.
But other occasions I was so mortified at the thought of rejection and looking clingy and overly sappy, that I preferred that she just did not see them than rejected me. For the most part now, I’m indifferent. It’s like either way, whatevz. Though it seems a bit unfortunate if she just did not see my messages. What a potentially beautiful thing possibly destroyed before it ever came to be, all because of a couple online glitches.
It was probably just all my sap was a big turn off lol 😆 Or it could have been the age thing, I guess. I’m her age when we first met, and I wouldn’t give a 21 year old a second glance either lol
So much of the obsession and pain was about not getting to have any contact with her but seeing her whole life displayed across my phone screen and along with that, knowing she did not like me, even just a little bit, when I found her to be so amazing. She was so open about herself and life and constantly shared. Even if she was just a customer at my job back then who chatted with me once in a while, I would have loved it. But we weren’t in each other’s lives at all, never even talked online much.
Last year, 15+ years since seeing her in person, and just less than 10 years after last seeing her social media content or hearing anything about her, I decided to look up her Instagram account. Writing that story about her just rekindled some interest. I know a lot can change in a decade. But I knew her so well all those years ago, that I knew her account would still be public. We both have always said we would never have our accounts not public.
My hands trembled as I searched her name. My body felt like jelly. My mouth dried up. My heart raced. I was terrified of what I may find. She was so s.uicidal so frequently, I feared she may have taken her own life at some point through the years. I begged the uni-verse to not let it be so, even though I did not believe it has that power. I also feared what emotions & love may come flooding back to destroy me. Even though I haven’t seen her in years and we were never friends, the fear that she could be gone, was the same as if I was waiting to see about my close friend or family member.
Her Instagram account was still public. And she was very much alive and doing well! It made me so happy. At close to 60 years old, she is as beautiful & youthful as I remember, now rockin’ some beautiful grey hair. It was surreal to see some of the same old posts of hers I saw 10+ years ago and remembered like it was yesterday.
Memories came back but no longing. Seeing snapshots of her life and pictures of her now did not affect me. There is one post I saw, though, that felt like a hard slap in the face. A picture of her with lifelong friends and a caption that says “Some people are meant to be in your life forever.” I couldn’t help but wonder all over again why not me, what do they have that I don’t, what does she not see in me that it’s not worth being my friend, or what does see she in me that she doesn’t like yet loves everyone else. That was just a fleeting thought.
I never looked again after that once last year. No point. We’ll never be friends, she set a boundary with me when she unfriended me all those years ago. I was afraid also of accidentally liking a post of hers or Instagram start suggesting to her that we be friends lol I would die. She’s the kind of person who keeps tabs on people she ghosts or hardly knew, so she could still be looking at mine.
But recently, something strange happened that rocked my world. It affected me more than I imagined it would. And i can’t seem to shake it. There was a moment where I thought “I am not ok.” I was doing research on Philadelphia history, a topic we both love. I was looking up a particular topic and saw a news article come up. The preview was inspiring & heartwarming. It hit me in a tender place and tugged on my heartstrings. It gave me a feeling of “home.” I felt connected to whoever wrote it. I felt like we knew each other. There was a familiar knowing. Like in a “spiritual” sense. Or a soul connection way, not necessarily like we met before in the flesh.
I was going to use it in my own post, giving credit to the author. Then I noticed the source. I remembered she was once a writer for them, and this topic was something close to her heart. I felt a surge of fear. I just knew she was going to be the author. I clicked on it, and sure enough, it was a piece she wrote some years ago. She always added a deeply personal touch to even her professional pieces, pouring her heart & soul into them. It could be the most professional, cold, clinical, official topic, and she would make it human.
I read it, and remembered why I loved her all those years ago. I began to mourn all those years we weren’t friends. I have buried them deep within, but still, their ghosts haunt me. All that wondering why came flooding back. We were so intellectually & emotionally aligned and compatible. It ripped open old wounds to see that article and the author’s name. I felt a dam deep within, threatening to break, unleashing all that old love and pain. And I felt the lack of that kind of connection with another woman in my own life today. I miss her. I miss loving her when there was still potential to be loved back.
Finding her again, out in the wild, sort of, was bittersweet. She’ll always be one of my soulmates, and a place in my heart will always be reserved just for her ❤️
I desire you more than food and drink
My body my senses my mind hunger for your taste
I can sense your presence in my heart although you belong to all the world
I wait with silent passion for one gesture one glance from you
I met Greg when he was on dialysis. Now he’s healthy enough to do everything! In 2023, my mom told me about a Philadelphia man, who was a stranger to me, in urgent need of a new kidney. He wasn’t close enough to the top of the wait list. I looked him up on Facebook & offered him my kidney. It was the easiest decision in the world for me to make. There was no hesitation. I always wanted to regift one of my kidneys to a stranger because I have always had the gift of perfect health & wanted someone else to have that, too. I was already planning on giving one of my kidneys to “the next person on the wait list.”
Greg & me turned out to be not only a perfect match but only living fifteen minutes apart! It turned out that Greg was not cleared for transplant. My clearance for donation was running out. Eventually, I would have had to do the six month long medical/psych evaluation all over again with no guarantee that I would be accepted again. They’re very strict.
So, on 1/16/2024, I did what I always planned and donated my kidney to the next person who could use it, which happened to be a 50 something year old man in Minnesota who I never met & have no contact with. Since I did this through the National Kidney Registry, I was given a kidney voucher to give to anyone in the country. I gave it to Greg, and a year after my kidney donation, Greg received his new kidney through my donation to someone else.
Two lives saved through my one donation! Now I have two kidney brothers. Maybe I’ll meet the other one someday. In May, Greg & me had the honor of being invited to Penn Transplant Institute’s first living organ donor celebration! I am Penn’s first living donor to sign their Donate Life flag that will be hung up at the transplant center!!
🖤
Greg always wanted to do the 3k walk for organ donation, & this year was the first he was healthy enough with his new kidney. We did the walk together!
I’m just as healthy & energetic as I was with two kidneys. The joy of my experience never fades.
My body “lost” a kidney, but I gained a lifelong friend.
What a joy, what a life!
Our story is one for the books!
Donating my kidney is the best thing I ever did. I always say I wish I had 100 more kidneys to give to 100 more people. 💙🫘💚
Now maybe someday The sun’s gonna shine Flowers will bloom And all will be fine
Today is the anniversary of one of the most tragic & horrific events in the history of the city of Philadelphia.
In 2013, six people died right here on the corner of Market Street, pronounced dead at the scene. Some sources also report that a seventh person died of his injuries later in a hospital. It’s hard to find information on that one. Most sources report only six deaths, the six who died at the scene.
Along with the deaths, many received non fatal injuries when a building collapsed on top of them, crushing & trapping them all for hours. Some of them died of suffocation, not dying instantly. The incident occurred in the morning, and bodies were still being discovered that evening, even a living person was pulled out after being trapped all day & night. She lost both of her legs and received the largest settlement in state history. (She has since died of Covidvirus)
The building was a thrift store, and the victims were all workers & customers. The building collapse was completely preventable and the result of the recklessness of the workers next door not following proper protocol while demolishing that building. The building next to the thrift store, while in the process of being demolished, collapsed onto the thrift store. The people involved with the demolition were convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to many years in prison.
The building inspector, who was cleared of any wrongdoing and not accused or charged or convicted, felt guilty and took his own life in the aftermath of the tragedy. Everyone agreed that he had no part in the recklessness. There were no violations present while inspecting the building. And no one held it against him. But he expressed overwhelming feelings of guilt & insomnia in a video just before ending his own life in his car one week after the incident. He shot himself.
In my opinion, he is worthy of being remembered as one of the victims and has a place at the memorial even though he’s not officially considered a victim of the collapse.
One heartwarming fact of this tragedy is when the building collapsed, an 18 year old high school student(not sure of the gender), who happened to be walking by, ran into the rubble to try to pull the victims out.
“Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”💚
Sharing in honor of all those who died on June 5th, 2013 as the result of a preventable & senseless tragedy. A tragedy that leaves an indelible mark on our city. I wasn’t involved or associated in any way, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was at work that evening, watching the wreckage on the news. Even though it has nothing to do with me, personally, I have been walking around thinking about it with a heavy heart and overwhelming sorrow in my chest.
I remembered it as the date was approaching. I walked by this memorial day after day for so many years, sometimes multiple occasions a day, and never realized it’s the memorial for that event until this year! So, this year, I decided to take a picture and dedicate a post to the victims.
June 5th Memorial Park now stands where the thrift store once was, the very spot that all those people died all those years ago, the spot where their bodies laid, being pulled out of all that devastation that took over the streets and blocked traffic. It’s now a place of hope & healing, according to the Park’s website.
Memorial Park is a very busy place, there’s always people there, often having lunch or coffee on the benches and talking to each other. It’s always sunny there on the corner. When I stand there now, I can’t feel any hint of the tragedy that once struck. To see people alive, eating, drinking, laughing, it doesn’t feel like a dark place where there were once bloodcurdling screams of pain & terror echoing through the streets, where mutilated bodies laid, scattered through the wreckage.
This memorial also serves as a reminder to always be mindful of safety during construction and to honor all the people who helped that day.
There are always people who are helping.
❤️💔
Dedicated to:
Anne Bryan, 24 years old, an art student at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and daughter of former Philadelphia City Treasurer Nancy Winkler
Mary Simpson, 24 years old, an audio engineer who was on a shopping trip with Anne Bryan, her best friend, both girls died together at the scene that day
Roseline Conteh, 52 years old, nursing assistant
Bobor Davis, 68 years old, a five-year Salvation Army employee
Kimberly Finnegan, 35 years old, a cashier working her first shift at the Salvation Army thrift store when she died at the scene, just got engaged to be married
Juanita Harmon, 75 years old, a retired secretary at the University of Pennsylvania
Ray William Johnson, 32 year old man who died later of his injuries.
Ronald Wagenhoffer, 52 years old, building inspector/suicide victim who ended his own life on the one week anniversary of the tragedy
Under a dark sky Swirling with tattered dreams He stands alone A man held captive By the relentless, throbbing ache Dwelling in some place Deep within Unidentifiable Like the wreckage of a ship Crashing in the night
His oceanic eyes piercing The darkness inside me Reflecting the heavy pain that breathes In me As if it were alive Pulsing like my heartbeat And the blood that runs through me
A silent captain of his painted ship Under the stars as they clash Into a stormy chaotic mess Colors colliding with the dark fantasies of A man lost in the night Amongst the ruin Of a beautiful, shattered mind
Navigating the tempestuous winds of his mind Where stars pulsate through his veins heartbeats that journey through the contorted galaxies of a lonely traveler of the night Each glow, a wish he cannot grasp A wish that stays untrue Always just out of reach
His fingertips almost lightly brush The softness Of each twinkle of hope Like a dandelion Dissolving The gentle wisps floating away in the wind Taking with it each wish That never blossoms Into fruition
Voiceless and invisible He speaks in colors Like distorted rainbows Across a midnight sky Messages that speak to the emptiness in me Filling it with hints of hope in the shape of stars like paint splashing the canvas of my mind Each swift brush of his hand across sterile white Small specks of gold Glittering in all the dark
And as each color in his mind implodes Like erupting volcanoes in his soul He is kicked back into the darkness Of the depths & valleys of his Torn up mind Like an endless abyss Chromatic but full of colorless voids That swallow the untouched parts of him They could never love
His cries go unheard His pleas falling on deaf ears But still he loves With wild abandon With every color he can muster All the passion in his eyes
The night wraps around him Like a cloak of black velvet its silence heavy Weighing on a fragile life That cannot bear the storms His brush dances A lonely pirouette across the canvas Colors bleeding like unsaid sorrows And unsung songs
A masterpiece.
Yellow bursts like distant laughter That was once near Now just a memory Tinted in grey Orange flames of sunsets he never saw Blue whispers of cold nights enveloping him in Snowy fields of Glistening white Wistful violet sighs of nostalgic joy Remnants now scattered about In the echoes of forlorn nights Red for every moment his heart loved
Each stroke, a confession each hue, a tear spilling into the craters The voids no one else could feel Splashing onto the world In silent drops
He paints the cosmos The vein of each galaxy Every pulse that dances Upon his wrists Like an almost inaudible whisper Taunting him With empty promises Of a world of endless color Bursting open All over the grey & black of his reality
He questions the beauty of night dappled in stars That shine in some other world That can never be his
He slouches As he walks crushed beneath the heaviness Of their accusations
Scattered green leaves beneath his feet the summer breeze carries the scent of loneliness The solemn embrace of solitude while crickets strum their evening lullabies and the night holds its breath As if to brace itself for what’s to come watching this fragile soul Too weak to go on pain and passion gifted, yet cursed beneath a soft symphony of stars & moonlight
A solitary figure A shadow in the night lost in the vastness of existence he finds comfort in chaos in the explosion of colors that speak what words cannot That step up When his voice fails a man, a night Darkness with light a uni-verse held in the heart of a painter A tormented soul
Tragic tales coming to life with every stroke of the brush every drop of paint, a story of its own bursting with all the glory and despair a heart can hold
Each brushstroke A testament to the madness the unadulterated beauty That lies within Untamed passion Like a tiger in the night Seeking unexpecting prey To satiate the hunger That arises in the deepest depths Of his gut And never seems quite abated
His heart, a kaleidoscopic collage His canvas, a mirror reflecting His fractured spirit His splintered mind That cuts into his flesh The inky sky in all its depth & expanse, his only companion a canvas waiting for release
And when all hope was lost On that starry, starry night Vincent lay broken Under the twinkling stars A loud bang ringing in the night Ripping through the sky A riot of colors spilling out Under the black of night His heart gushing every color There ever was and every painting that never came to be His paintbrush falling to the ground Dripping red
Clutching his chest Until all the colors turned black as the midnight sky The life pouring out of him Beneath the dying stars Withering away
Eyes closed now As he drifts off Where all the colors Permanently sleep And his canvas remains untouched White like the ghosts that haunted his mind
He lays shrouded in eternal slumber Escaping a world that was never meant For the immaculate beauty Of a tender soul Too fragile, too soft To face the ruins Of a tormented mind
And I hear him now In the whispers of the wind Singing in colors That soothe my darkness Sweetmelodies,muting the pain That creeps in through the cracks Of a broken mindand a ragged life The hues linger Like a fragrant mist Upon supple skin I carry them with me Embedded deep in my heart Flowing out with each beat Onto everything I touch
A splash of color Immortal Against the black and grey Forever haunting A place in the night Where an artist once stood Under the stars Confessing his pain His dreams His deepest loves & longings In a disarray of color To a color blind world
And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night You took your life As lovers often do But I could have told you, Vincent This world was never meant For one as beautiful as you 🖤
I just have to share this funny random thing that happened today because it’s too hilarious 😂
There was this weird thing at City Hall today that I never saw before. It was a large screen thing. There was a crowd of people gathered around it. I walked over to see and noticed many were putting their middle fingers up to the screen. Some of them were, passionately, holding both arms up with both middle fingers up. Like to really, really emphasize the big FUCK YOU.
I thought it must be some political thing or something. I expected to see Donald Trump on the screen. But when I looked at the screen, it was just a bunch of random people, just like us. At first I thought we could see ourselves through it, but I realized it was different people. We could see (but not hear) each other live through the screen.
I have no idea where they were, they were outside somewhere, like us. They were putting their middle fingers up at us like the people here were doing to them. There was literally no reason at all to feel the need to flip anyone off. It was just random strangers all standing there looking at each other through a screen.
It made me laugh out loud more than once. We encounter a random group of our fellow humans, and that’s how we all greet each other 😂🤣
“The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy.” 💕☕️
Today, I turned another year older, and Starbucks & Wawa gave me a free coffee! Lol I was so happy. At Starbucks, I got to choose anything I wanted. I chose this cherry chai latte. Yum! 🍒 It’s so pretty!
Recently, I had a trip to a hospital emergency department for a tooth infection that spread everywhere. My face was swollen, and I was in agony. My second emergency room visit in three months because this tooth is giving me problems. I’m a lot better now. Let’s hope this is the last of this tooth causing me issues. It has to be extracted. I was cursed with bad teeth, it runs in my family. I need full dentures. I’m working on that now.
Anyway, this is me today! I took this picture by accident when I was trying to fix my hair. Lol I had my phone against a wall. Not bad for being nearly 40 years old! 😆
💕
After medical testing at the hospital recently, I found out I am in perfect health (other than the infection ravaging my face lol). Everything is perfect, nothing even slightly off. My solitary kidney is now functioning at almost 100%! That’s wild. Lol It’s literally doing the work of two helathy kidneys. I recently walked for EIGHT hours without stopping! I began at 8:00am and continued til 4:00pm when I got home. I wish I would have remembered to put a step counter on my phone!
I recently did a 3k walk with my friend/kidney recipient. With his new kidney, he was healthy enough this year to do the walk! Because I donated my kidneyto “the next person on the wait list” in the U.S., I was given a kidney voucher to give to anyone I want so that person can get a new kidney soon. I looked for a sick stranger because I did not know any sick people. I found out about a man who lives close to where I do in Philadelphia and gave him the kidney voucher. He got his new kidney through my donation, and now we are good friends! 💙💚
So, just sharing this brief life update! I haven’t posted in a while. I want to get more storage space.
A Dose of Inspiration 