All-the-thoughts-ever-thought - A Collection Of Thoughts

Crystal Crown

you’re not selfish for wanting to be treated well

“In 1984, when Ruth Coker Burks was 25 and a young mother living in Arkansas, she would often visit a hospital to care for a friend with cancer.

During one visit, Ruth noticed the nurses would draw straws, afraid to go into one room, its door sealed by a big red bag. She asked why and the nurses told her the patient had AIDS.

On a repeat visit, and seeing the big red bag on the door, Ruth decided to disregard the warnings and sneaked into the room.

In the bed was a skeletal young man, who told Ruth he wanted to see his mother before he died. She left the room and told the nurses, who said, "Honey, his mother’s not coming. He’s been here six weeks. Nobody’s coming!”

Ruth called his mother anyway, who refused to come visit her son, who she described as a "sinner" and already dead to her, and that she wouldn't even claim his body when he died.

“I went back in his room and when I walked in, he said, "Oh, momma. I knew you’d come", and then he lifted his hand. And what was I going to do? So I took his hand. I said, "I’m here, honey. I’m here”, Ruth later recounted.

Ruth pulled a chair to his bedside, talked to him

and held his hand until he died 13 hours later.

After finally finding a funeral home that would his body, and paying for the cremation out of her own savings, Ruth buried his ashes on her family's large plot.

After this first encounter, Ruth cared for other patients. She would take them to appointments, obtain medications, apply for assistance, and even kept supplies of AIDS medications on hand, as some pharmacies would not carry them.

Ruth’s work soon became well known in the city and she received financial assistance from gay bars, "They would twirl up a drag show on Saturday night and here'd come the money. That's how we'd buy medicine, that's how we'd pay rent. If it hadn't been for the drag queens, I don't know what we would have done", Ruth said.

Over the next 30 years, Ruth cared for over 1,000 people and buried more than 40 on her family's plot most of whom were gay men whose families would not claim their ashes.

For this, Ruth has been nicknamed the 'Cemetery Angel'.”— by Ra-Ey Saley

jokes aside i think it’s amazing and heartwarming to see like 4chan incel bros perform the miracle of crawling out of that hole and becoming real human beings and chronicling their journey to realizing that they can be well adjusted happy normal dudes

Please remember that almost everyone around you is traumatized. I didn’t understand this when I was younger. I wondered why people acted so strangely and irrationally. Maybe all children wonder this. The author Robert Anton Wilson said (paraphrasing), “We have never seen a completely sane adult human.” No one makes it out of this life alive. It’s not their fault. Mercy, kindness, forgiving — these are what makes one human. They are other names for love. People break in the strangest of ways.

THIS IS THE MOST GLORIOUS WARM FUZZY HILARIOUS ANIMATION XMAS STORY I DIDN’T KNOW AND I LOVE THIS

W o Ah

Adhd symptoms no one talks about:

I cant finish cleaning my room because I can't organize my desk because I haven't organized my vanity because I cant organize my vanity because I haven't organized my closet drawers because I cant organize my closet drawers until I organize my nightstand and I cant do that until I GET A NIGHTSTAND because the space between my really heavy bookshelf full of books and the space between my bed is abnormally narrow BUT TONIGHT WHILE I WAS AT ROSS I found the perfect nightstand so now I can go home and put all the stuff thats supposed to go on and under my nightstand on and under my nightstand and then I can organize the space next to my bed, then I can organize the closet drawers, then im at another impasse because I still need the proper vanity organizational materials; but we have made some achievements tonight boys

“I used to think that a dead person’s words die with them. Now I know that they scatter, looking for meaning to attach to like a scent. My mother used to collect orange blossoms in a small shallow bowl. I pass the tree each spring. I always knew that grief was something I could smell. But I didn’t know that it’s not actually a noun but a verb. That it moves.”

— Victoria Chang, from Obit