Author has written 35 stories for Bleach, Death Note, and Durarara!!/デュラララ!!.
"Hatred is simply another form of love.
I don't know the author.
I'm a tortured soul. I'll go back to read and watch moments of anything just so I can cry, just so I can be sure I'm human. And I know, that if I ever stop crying at those moments, that I've come less of a human.
16 THINGS TO DO AT WAL-MART
1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they aren't looking.
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If you fall for this please put it in your profile, I fell for it too:
You know you live in 2008 when...
1.) You accidentaly enter your password on a microwave.
2.) You haven't played solitare with real cards for years
3.) The reason for not staying in touch with your friends is they dont have a screenname or my space
4.) You'd rather look all over the house for the remote instead of just pushing the buttons on the TV
6.) Your boss doesn't even have the ability to do your job.
7.) As you read this list you keep nodding and smiling.
8.) As you read this list you think about sending it to all your friends.
9.) and you were too busy to notice number 5.
10.) You scrolled back up to see if there was a number 5.
11.) Now you are laughing at yourself stupidly.
12.) Put this in your profile if you fell for that, and you know you did.
This is really sad-
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.''
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 with out 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 for ever. 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.
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