you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog
Couldn’t risk it.
didn’t realize they change colors. now I know o gotta wish.
THIS SHIT IS REAL I GOT THE JOB I WAS NUTS ABOUT BC I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY maybe it’s a coinkidink but it okay just take the necessary steps to achieve what you’re wishing for and YOU CAN DO IT
“Imagine it’s 2 in the morning, flood water is up to your eyes and you’re pushing an air mattress behind an apartment building. You’re pushing through water and debris, staying calm, trying to rescue families screaming for help and also you’re 13 years old.
13-year-old Virgil Smith rescued 17 of his neighbors during Hurricane Harvey.
When flood waters poured into his apartment complex in Dickinson, he and his mom, Lisa Wallace, took shelter at a stranger’s second floor apartment.
Virgil says he got a call from his friend in another building.
“He was like, VJ, can you come help us because you know that we can’t swim,” says Smith.
Smith says he swam back to his apartment, pulled out the air mattress his family uses for guests, and went to work, rescuing his friends.”
SHE WORE a sunflower dress and on the first day that you saw her, you fell in love.
Over time, she fell in love with you too.
She taught you what it was to live, with her wildness and her melodic laughter. And you taught her how to love.
It wasn’t always easy. There were nights when she would wake up screaming and you would hold her close, and stroke her hair until she fell back asleep. There were mornings when she would be distant.
A few times, you thought about leaving. Over Winter, when she cried almost every day and your presence hardly seemed to matter to her anymore. Over Easter, when you fought constantly.
But there were periods of sunshine too. And it was during these times that you remembered the sunflower dress.
“I loved that dress,” you told her, one July evening.
“Really?” she laughed in that characteristic way of hers.
“Yes.“
The next week, she wore it for the first time in a year, to meet your family. She looked so happy that you couldn’t help but laugh. You couldn’t help but love her.
It is these moments that you think about now - now that she is gone. The sunflower dress and her melodic laughter. The way that you loved her.
The sunflowers in your back garden sway in the breeze. You wonder whether she still wears them when she feels happy. You hope that she does.
I hope she makes you happy. I hope one day you look into her eyes and know that she’s the one. I hope she makes you laugh. I hope she never dismisses your tears. I hope she’s there for you when you need her most and she never makes you question whether you’re enough.
I hope she supports you and you support her too. I hope you build each other up. I hope she feels like home after a long day, and her arms feel safe. I hope she does little things absentmindedly which make you smile, and she gets along with your brother. I hope her family are kind to you.
I hope you are happy together. I hope you marry her. It is none of my business anymore but I hope she gives you everything you deserve. I hope she gives you everything I never could.
I laugh harder with you. I feel more myself with you. I trust you with me–the real me. When something goes wrong, or right, or I hear a funny joke, or I see something bizarre, you’re the first person I want to talk to about it.
•buy toys/dolls/crayons
•play with Legos
•play old videogames/dress up games
•weave friendship bracelets
•watch cartoons
•use stickers
•draw pics of your favorite characters
If it makes you feel nice, do it.
Don’t even worry about what other people think, because it doesn’t matter–if it brings you happiness, it’s not “ridiculous”, or “immature”.
You deserve to enjoy yourself.
Let me share with you what I consider to be the most important less I’ve learned in my adult life:
“Growing up doesn’t mean you can’t have Zebra Cakes. Growing up simply means that, if you want to have Zebra Cakes, you buy them for yourself.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Bear?” Well, let me explain. For those of you who live outside of the US, this is a Zebra Cake:
It’s a little pre-packaged snack cake that is horribly cheap and junky and really not that great, but it is like manna from heaven to me. I fucking love these things. When I was a little kid growing up, my mom bought Zebra Cakes but once in a blue moon. They were intended to be put in mine and my siblings’ school lunches, but my brother and I would eat them whenever we wanted, so Mom just didn’t see the point. (They also used to be kind of expensive, at least for our family’s budget.) Needless to say, the coveted Zebra Cakes were a luxury for me, and were one of the tastes of my childhood.
Fast forward to my college years. I was living in an apartment with three other people, doing my own shopping and cooking. I was in the grocery store, picking up some stuff, and I happened to walk past a display of snack cakes. Among them were several boxes of Zebra Cakes.
I paused at this, chuckling to myself. Oh man. Zebra Cakes. I haven’t had those in years. I loved those when I was a kid. I reminisced happily and thought about how much I missed the taste of Zebra Cakes, then started to walk away.
And then I stopped dead.
Because I had realized that there was literally nothing stopping me from buying a box of Zebra Cakes. There was nothing stopping me from buying ten boxes of Zebra Cakes. If I wanted Zebra Cakes, I could have goddamn Zebra Cakes, because it was my money and my decision to make.
I put two boxes in my cart (they were 2 for $5) and never looked back.
Here’s the secret I learned that day: The idea of something being “just for kids” is, by and large, bullshit. What you do on your own adult free time with your own adult money is, by its very nature, adult stuff. It’s like comedian Eddie Izzard (who frequently performed his routines in drag) once said when someone asked about him wearing ‘women’s clothes’: “They’re not women’s clothes. They’re my clothes. I bought them.”
I am 25 years old, and yesterday I bought myself a shark lunchbox. Look at it. Look at how awesome my lunchbox is.
Was this lunchbox intended to by bought for and used by a child? Yes. The tag said it was for ages 3 and up. But it was bought by and will be used by an adult, and anyone who thinks that’s wrong is probably just jealous that they don’t have the self-confidence to rock a shark lunchbox at 25.
So like. Being “mature” and “an adult” doesn’t mean you have to completely abandon the things that made you happy when you were younger. It just means that you may have to approach them in a different way.
Pay attention, there’s a lesson here
I hesitated reblogging this, and I am not entirely sure why.
Very important to me to see this considering how my mom literally prohibited certain good food or snakcs she used to let me have when young…
