Great minds can read this!

This is weird, but interesting! If you can raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can. I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed erveylteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!Paste this to your profile if you can read this!

Put this on your
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Naruto!

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PLEASE READ WHAT'S UNDER THIS!!

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.

Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong.

I was crying when I read this. I don't know who's story this is, but it really made me cry.

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.

The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat !”
All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.

If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.

Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bumping his head against their hands, begging for their love.
If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.

Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.

Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me…I will always try to be Ugly.

Add your name to this list if this made you cry and pass it on.

Do YOU remember the 90s??

Just because you were born in '97 doesn't mean you're a 90's kid. It's not like you could remember the original Simpsons. I am sorry but three conscious years of the 90's just wont cut it. You're a 90's kid if You remember watching -Doug -Ren & Stimpy -Pinky and the Brain -AAAAAAAH Real Monsters! -Rockos modern Life. -Animaniacs -Gargoyles You've ever ended a sentence with the word "PSYCHE!" You just cant resist finishing this . . . "in west Philadelphia born and raised . . ." You remember -Step by Step -Family Matters -Dinosaurs -Boy Meets World You remember when it was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.

You remember reading "Goosebumps" You still get the urge to say "NOT" after (almost) every sentence . . . not When everything was settled by -rock paper scissors or -bubble gum bubble gum in a dish or -ms. mary mack When kick ball was a daily activity. When we used to obey our parents You used to listen to the radio all day long just to r ecord your FAVORITE song of ALL time on a tape. You remember when Super Nintendos and Sega Genisis became popular. You remember The Original Game Boy. You always wanted to send in a tape to America's Funniest Home Videos . . . but never taped anything funny.

You remember watching -The Magic School Bus -Wishbone -Reading Rainbow -and Ghostwriter on PBS You remember when Yo-Yos were cool. You remember those Where's Waldo books. You remember eating Warheads and Splashers Gum. You remember watching -the 1st Batman -Aladdin -Ninja Turtles -ghost busters You remember Ring Pops. If you remember when every thing was "da BOMB!" You remember boom boxes .vs. cd players. Making those little paper fortune things, and then predicting your life with them.

You played and/or collected "Pogs" You had at least one Tamagotchi, GigaPet, or Nano and brought it everywhere. One word. . . . . . . .trolls. Windows 95 was the best. You watched the original cartoons of -Rugrats -Wild Thornberry's -Power Ra ngers -Rocket Power. All your school supplies were "Lisa Frank" brand. You collected those Beanie Babies. Carebears Lambchop's song never ended. Silver dollars, which were cool to have. Everyone watched the WB. If you even know what an original walkman is.

You know the Macarena by heart. "Talk to the hand" . . . enough said You went to McDonald's to play in the playplace. You remember playing on merry go rounds at the playground. Before the MySpace frenzy . . . Before the Internet & text messaging . . . Before Sidekicks & iPods . . . Before PlayStation3 or X-BOX 360 . . . Before Spongebob . . . Before Tupac was shot. When light up sneakers were cool. When you rented VHS tapes, not DVDs. When gas was 0.95 a gallon. When we recorded stuff on VCRs. You had slap bracelets!

You Actually played outside until it was dark! Way back. Before we realized all this would eventually disappear. Post this in your bulletin if you remember these days . . . .

Do you live with or know about child abuse? If you do, or don't read the poem below, copy and paste it into your profile, you never know it just might make someone feel better and give them hope.

My name is Sarah. I am but three, My eyes are swollen I cannot see, I must be stupid I must be bad What else could have made My daddy so mad? I wish I were better I wish I weren't ugly, Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong Or else I'm locked up All the day long. When I awake I'm all alone The house is dark My folks aren't home When my mommy does come I'll try and be nice, So maybe I'll get just One whipping tonight. Don't make a sound! I just heard a car My daddy is back From Charlie's Bar. I hear him curse My name he calls I press myself Against the hard wall I try and hide From his evil eyes I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry He finds me weeping He shouts ugly words, He says its my fault That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me And yells at me more, I finally get free And I run for the door. He's already locked it And I start to bawl, He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall. I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken, And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken. "I'm sorry!", I scream But its now much too late His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate The hurt and the pain Again and again Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end! And he finally stops And heads for the door, While I lay there motionless Sprawled on the floor My name is Sarah And I am but three, Tonight my daddy Murdered me.

There are thousands of kids out there just like Sarah. And you can help.Sickens me to my soul, and if you just read this and don't pass it on I pray for your forgiveness, cause you would have to be one heartless person to not be affected by this story. And because you are affected, do something about it!! So all I am asking you to do, is take some time to send this on and acknowledge that this stuff does happen, and that people like her dad do live in our society,and I pray for child abuse to wither out and die,but also pray for the safety of our youth. Please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound,it might just indirectly change a life. Hey, you NEVER know. Please put this on your site if you areAGAINST CHILD ABUSE baCk iT uPP XxX Child Abuse XxX

--I AM THE GIRL--

I am the girl that doesn't go to school dances, or games, and when I do go, I sit in a corner and read a book. I am the girl that people look through when I say something. I am the girl that spends most of her free time reading, writing, or doing other activities that most teenagers wouldn't call normal. I am the girl that people call weird and a freak either behind my back or to my face. I am the girl that doesn't spend all her time on MySpace, or talking to a girlfriend on a cell phone or regular phone. I am the girl that hasn't been asked out in a year. I am the girl that has stopped to smell the flowers and jump and splash in the rain. BUT I am also the girl who knows and is proud to be who she is, doesn’t care if people call her weird (it's a compliment),who loves reading and writing and doing the things that no one seems to havethe time to do any more, who loves and is obsessed withTwilight, who can express herself better with words than actions, who doesn't need a guy or girl to complete her (yet it would be nice) and knows the importance of the little things. Copy and paste this onto your account, and add your name to the list, if you are anything like me, so the girls who are different and unique can know in their weakest time that they are unique but not alone.:HarryArtemis1220, edwardcullenissosexy, Pixel Alice, ME LOVEY JAZZY, Gandalf the Grey-Edelwiess, DoYouReallySeeMe, Potter's Angels, dream kid, ViloetEyed-Demon,wind dancer1981

If you have a tendency to talk to yourself, copy and paste this into your profile.

Copy and paste this to your profile if you haven't died yet.

If you ever read past two in the morning, copy and paste this to your profile