Dear bullies,

See that girl you just called fat? She is starving herself.

You know that girl you just called ugly? She spends hours putting on make-up hoping people will like her.

That boy you just tripped? He is abused enough at home.

See that old man you made fun of cause of the ugly scars? He fought for our country.

See that young boy you just made fun of for always being sick? He has to walk home in the snow cause his family is too poor.

That guy you just made fun of for crying? His mother is dying.

Re-Post this if you are against bullying.

If you are wondering what it would be like to have wings, copy and paste this into your profile!

If you want abortion to end now, post this in your profile!

If you dream of going to camp Half-Blood, copy and paste this in your profile.

WARNING: Do NOT walk in my footsteps... I tend to walk into walls, and off the occasional cliff.

If shopping in the mall makes you ill and you think it's a waste of time, copy/paste this on your page.(unless it's for books of course).

eliforp ruoy otni siht etsap dna ypoc ,sdrawkcab siht daer ot hguone trams era uoy fI

If you are a Christian, copy and paste this into your profile.

1F Y0U C4N UND3R574ND 7H15 M355463 C0PY 17 4ND P4573 17 1N70 Y0UR PR0F1L3.

Only fteefin prenect of poelpe can raed this. fI you are one fo taht prenect, cpoy and pstae tihs itno yuor porflie

When you were 5, your mom gave you a ice cream cone. You thank her by yelling at her that it's the wrong kind.
When you were 9, your mom drove you from swimming class to soccer and one birthday party to another. You thanked her by slamming the door and never looking back.
When you were 10, your mom payed for piano classes. You thanked her by never coming to class.
When you were 12, your mom was waiting for a very important call. You thanked her by talking on the phone all night.
When you were 14, your mom payed for a month away at summer camp. You thanked her by not bothering to write a single letter.
When you were 16, your mom taught you how to drive her car. You thanked her by taking it every chance you got.
When you were 17, your mom drove you to the mall and gave you her credit card. You thanked her by maxing it out.
When you were 18, your mom cried at your high school graduation. You thanked her by partying until dawn.
When you were 20, your mom drove you to college. You thanked her by saying good-bye to her outside the dorm so you wouldn't have to say bye in front of your friends.
When you were 26, your mom payed for your wedding. You thanked her by moving halfway across the world.
When you were 30, your mom fell ill and needed you to take care of her. You thanked her by reading about the burden parents became to children.
Then, one day, she quietly died and everything you did came crashing down on you.
If YOU love your mom, re-post this and if you don't, you won't care if your mom dies, will you?

If you talk back to the TV, copy this into your profile

98 percent of the teenage population does or has tried smoking pot. If you're one of the 2 percent who hasn't, copy and paste this in your profile(I'm completely proud of that and will continue not to do it).

Please read this, I promise it won’t give you a curse or anything like that- if you believe in all that stuff- it is just a really touching story.

I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.

The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.'

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly.

The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.

'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.

She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'

His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'

'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.'

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''

'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'

Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give it to my sister. He heard me!''

'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But he gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''

'My mommy loves white roses.'

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.

I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started.

I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.

She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.

And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Now you have 2 choices:

1) Repost this message, or

2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart

When the house lights dimmed

and the concert was about to begin,

the mother returned to her seat and

discovered that the child was missing.

Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights

focused on the impressive Steinway on stage.

In horror, the mother saw her little

boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out

"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance,

quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear,

"Don't quit. Keep playing"

Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached

down with his left hand and began filling

in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached

around to the other side of the child,

and he added a running obbligato.

Together, the old master and the young novice

transformed what could have been a frightening situation

into a wonderfully creative experience.

The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't

recall what else the great master played.

only the classic,

"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

Perhaps that's the way it is with God.

What we can accomplish on

our own is hardly noteworthy.

We try our best, but the results aren't always

graceful flowing music. However, with the

hand of the Master, our life's

work can be beautiful.

The next time you set out to accomplish great feats,

listen carefully. You may hear the voice of the

Master, whispering in your ear,

"Don't quit. Keep playing."

May you feel His arms around you and

know that His hands are there, helping you

turn your feeble attempts into true masterpieces.

Remember, God doesn't seem to

call the equipped, rather, He equips the 'called.'

Life is more accurately measure by the lives you touch

than by the things you acquire.

So touch someone by passing this little message along.

May God bless you and be with you always!

-See that boy doing his homework in home room? He couldn't do it last night because he was busy talking his friend out of suicide.
-See that girl, with her face caked in make-up? She's bullied, she needs to feel beautiful.
-See him, the one who wears long sleeves everyday? He covers his arms to hide the scars.
-See her, with the cheap hand-me-down clothes? Her family can't afford food for half the month, let alone get brand names.
-See that girl who laughs and smiles at every little thing? She cried herself to sleep every night. Wonder why she never lets her friends over to her house? Because she's afraid they'll see her mum passed out drunk on the floor, as always.
-See how that girl cringes at rape jokes? She was raped.
-See the boy who everyone goes to for advice? He wishes somebody would do the same for him.
-See the girl who never brings a lunch? She's disgusted by her body.
-See her, with the little waist? She goes to the bathroom and forces herself to throw up so she can keep her waist that way.
-See the boy over there, with the dark circles under his eyes? He has insomnia, he fears what he'll see in his dreams.
-See that girl over there daydreaming? She has schizophrenia.
-See the boy biting his nails? He has cancer and wonders how much time he has left.
-See your best friend? She's addicted to drugs, but she can't tell you because you won't understand.
-See that boy reading all about 9/11? His parents died on that day.
-See her, with the phone all the time? She's waiting for a call saying her sister was found after a kidnapping 4 years ago.
-See know the girl you just called fat? She overdosed on diet pills.
-See that girl you just called ugly? She spends hours putting on make-up hoping people will like her.
-See that boy you just tripped? He is abused enough at home.

What you call being "too lazy to review" is what we call "a flame to the pages" as the writers. That one minute or two that you felt "too lazy" to review is another minute of creeping discouragement that all writers feel as they begin to think... "Why am I even here…?" "What's even the point of continuing?" "My skills must be terrible…no one cares for my story…" "I'll never be a good writer...I quit." These are only a few thoughts that go through every writer's head- that go through MY head- when we put out a chapter / story with all our heart and soul within, and we sit there…and sit…and wait…and not a single person says even a word.

If you're not a writer, you have NO IDEA how much that hurts… If you ARE a writer, then I'm sure you know just how great it feels when someone is kind enough to leave a heartwarming and encouraging review, and you read it, smiling while thinking…"Wow…I did it…" So, why not give fellow writers the same luxury here? Too many times I've seen epic and utterly beautiful works of literary art fall to pieces before finally being abandoned due to the terrible discouragement that the lack of reviews can cause. Sometimes, it is so severe that the very writer himself decides to quit, denying the world his skills of writing that I'm it would have deeply enjoyed. So… Just one minute, that's all it takes. Just a few gentle taps of the fingers on your keyboard, a few seconds or so of your time, and your words can SAVE a writer from a dark demise.

Do me a favor: Go find a story, ANY story, anywhere here on Fanfiction.net, and see if you can help it. If it has very little / no reviews at all, just check it out, and say whatever comes to mind. And enjoy the thought in mind that you could have just SAVED that story, with just a few taps of the keyboard...If you agree with what I have said then please copy and paste any part of this story you wish onto your profile. Modify it in any way you see fit; there is no need to use my exact words. You make it say what you want it to say

I'm a writer, not a fan fiction writer, but I am writing my own books. I believe that everyone that picks up a pencil has potential to be a writer. maybe not a world wide famous author, but enough to at least be known by someone as the best writer they know. so if someone tells you, "you suck at writing," or "your a failure at writing" then tell them they their the one who sucks, and they are the failure. because even tough I believe that they have potential, their only hurting themselves in the long run, by wasting their talents in writing, by trying to bring someone else down.

- Son Of Fenris.