My Name? Thea. My age? 492.956. LOLjk, I'm 15. Occupation? In your back garden eating oreos. What I do for a living? Proffessional Procrastinator. Need one? Gimme a call ;3
I have that Pinoy pride most Filipinos' are born with. x]
I live in England :U Yes, it's cold and very rainy. How I learn to live with it? I honestly have no idea.
I seem outgoing, playful and outright wierd. However, I'm able to hide the pain behind my smiles.
I will always blog to express, never to impress.
This blog is mine, and only mine.
It carries my inner emotions, thoughts and devotions.
This blog is My Simple Reverie.
Oh, and I'll follow back if I like your blog c:
This is Demi and her friend Trenton Cole Bailey Stout. They were best friends. They had known each other since Demi was 2. He was a year older than her. He stayed at their house a lot, it was like his second home, and Dallas was like his sister. They both lived in Colleyville, Texas. As they grew up, their friendship only got stronger. But you see, since Demi was a grade below him, she didn’t know his friends, what was going on, and all that in his grade. Like she said, she’d gotten suicidal thoughts when she was 7, but he got her through it all. She stayed strong for him. She started getting an eating disorder, and he could tell, he worried about her, so he tried to stand up for her, but it didn’t work very well. He was bullied before that, but just in his own grade, after trying to stand up for Demi, he was bullied in both the grade below him and his own grade, making it nearly impossible to have friends, or feel safe. He and Demi were a lot alike, they both struggled so much with peer pressure, bullying, and that type of stuff. One day, the walked to school together, Trenton seemed fine. They had a normal day and went home, hung our for a while at Demi’s house, then he went home. Demi was about 12. Trenton was about 13. The next day, he didn’t walk to school with her, worrying her. But she thought he might’ve been sick- even though he was never sick and had never missed a day of school in his life. She thought about him all day and worried about him. At the end of the school day, she’d still heard nothing about him, no one knew what happened, not his friends, not anyone in his grade, not the teachers, not her friends, which turned her stomach in knots. As she was about to walk home, she got a call from her mom. Her mom was crying, and told Demi that Trenton had died. Demi didn’t believe her and ran home. Her mother hugged her tightly, as the ambulances surrounded her house, and Trenton’s house. She ran over to his house, and she saw his body. She didn’t think he looked like the Trenton she knew. The Trenton she had loved. She fell to her knees crying, and her mom just held her. After a while, her mother explained what had happened. Trenton had hung himself with his belt, because of how bullied he was. Demi immediately blamed herself, wishing she could’ve helped him, even just one little sentence, she was convinced, could’ve changed his mind. And that’s when she admitted to had fallen in love with Trenton. Her first love, ripped away from her. She never got to tell him, she was too scared, but she always wondered how he felt about her, but she would never get to know. That’s what pushed her over the edge, and that first night- she cut for the first time. It felt to het like the pain was flowing out of her, so she kept doing it.
This post is in remembrance of Trenton Cole Bailey Stout.
It will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking..
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window.
The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end.
They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days, weeks and months passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.
She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.
It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy. ‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present .’