Please read the three stories below. Two are re-posted with minor edits to grammar and spelling and the last is self-written. Feel free to repost any of them.

"One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class who was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books.

"'Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday?' I thought to myself. 'He must really be a nerd.' I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I just shrugged my shoulders and went on.

"As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him.

"So, I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives."

"He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!"

"There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before.

"We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends, and he said yes. We hung out all weekend, and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same.

"Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscle with this pile of books everyday!" He just laughed, and handed me half the books.

"Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke.

"I knew that we would always be friends, and that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation, and I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.

"Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Sometimes, I was even jealous!

"Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, 'Hey, big guy, you'll be great!' He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. 'Thanks,' he said.

"As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began, "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach . . . but mostly your friends . . . I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story."

"I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later, and was carrying his stuff home.

"He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

"I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth."

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. Whatever force might will the heavens into existence and preside over us all, be it God, Allah, Yahweh, or simply a unifying force, we were forged from it for a purpose. And despite what might unbalance you in your life, despite what might make you feel unwanted for unneeded--chances are you had an impact like this. The kid you passed in the store and said, "Hey, nice shirt" too might have gotten the spirit to stand up to his abusive stepfather or bullies at his school.

Or, in my case, the Shaolin instructor you always laughed at his jokes might have been a dark, abused child whose only solace was the art, and then his family.

If you're considering suicide, or running a dagger over your wrist, you feel isolated and meaningless. But you want to know something? Everyone feels isolated and meaningless. There are over 7,000,000,000 people on this planet, and at one time or another, they all feel like the rest of the world is out there to spite them. Do you know what this world would be like if that were true? If everyone human soul who thought they were worth nothing killed themselves?

We wouldn't exist.

I'm the first to admit this race has fallen. There was a time when a solemn handshake was an unbreakable vow of trust. Now even marriage is treated as though it is not sacred. But there are shining examples of the human race still left in this world.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster (what I call God, because I cannot see such a force as not having a sense of humor and I loved the book "Interworld") places his angels strategically. The day I honestly had a knife to my chest was the day an old friend called me up and said, "Hey, no clue if you remember me, but we were friends and you really helped me with my grades." The day when I couldn't help but feel undying contempt for my parents was the day I found a familiar author on this site who, once again, saved my soul. There are numerous other examples, but they are all true.

More than likely, Fate divined that you would have those thoughts, and the purpose you are meant to fulfill must be fulfilled. Thus, it sends well-chosen people to help and guide you. Sometimes, they're the smile on the street. Sometimes, they're the freaky fanfiction author who randomly PM's you and tells you her life story. Sometimes they're a butterfly that lands on your nose, and sometimes they're even subtler than that.

Look for them

You now have two choices.

You can either:

1. Put this on your profile.

Or...

2. Forget you read this and act like it didn't touch your heart.

As you can see, I took choice number 1.

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly." -Author Unknown

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 afterall, 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 newspaper 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 newspaper 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) Re-post this message.

2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart

I did the first.

I used to have a rather outdated story on here about my struggles with depression. Since then, I have been diagnosed with more than a few problems, none of them being true depression, but all having affected my life in drastic ways. I won't go into it, but I do want to say this:

If you struggle with feelings of inadequacy, instability in your emotional skin, relationships, or anything else with dire effects on your life, seek help. You have no idea how long I prescribed to the nonsense people preach about psychiatric medications being cop-outs and the stigmas surrounding mental illness. I ignored a multitude of signs pointing to much more severe problems than "some depression and anxiety" (not that either of those things should be overlooked, but I told myself I could only suffer mild cases of those disorders, because anything else would label me "a crackpot" and steal any chance I had at a successful life). For these reasons, as well as the intense spiral I descended into a couple years ago (including homelessness and attempted suicide), I aspire to spread awareness through my stories. You would be hard-pressed to find anything I post to be devoid of reflection on mental illness, save very brief stories focusing on something very different.

While my characters have a tendency to do what I did--fight mental help like it is the Bubonic Plague--all of them do, inevitably, get help. No matter how long it might take them to concede to therapy and medication, should they need it, don't fight it, should you find yourself in a similar position. Don't listen to society's ignorant lies about the mentally ill being problems. Neuro-typical people are more rare than anyone else at this point. Truthfully, mental illness is so commonplace, classifying anything as "neuro-typical" is ridiculous in and of itself. You are special for a million more wonderful reasons than how the chemicals in your brain fire. Get whatever help you need, now or ever. Prioritize yourself, so you can later prioritize your loved ones.

If any of you feel lost or insecure, feel free to PM me. I will listen. I won't hesitate. I'll offer whatever morale support I can, although I am not a professional. But I will cheer you on in your corner, no matter who you are.

The Scarred Hero Trilogy (Series 1 of The Converging Worlds Chronicles) - Percy Jackson & the Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus AU

The Forgotten Fear: cross-posted on Archive of Our Own, on indeterminate hiatus while I solve an important plot discrepancy, credit to Rynna Aurelia and TwistedSaiyan for assistance with plot and grammar

Warnings: Schizophrenia, depression, suicidal ideation, emotional and sexual abuse, along with discomfort regarding a very valid sexuality stemming from childhood abuse

To Be Limitless - How to Train Your Dragon - finished one-shot character study on Astrid Hofferson

No warnings apply

Not Their Perfect Fix Chronicles - Percy Jackson & the Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus

Not His Type - finished one-shot mending the weirdness between Percy and Nico (also reminding everyone that Percy Jackson is not a narcissist obsessed with Nico's lack of attraction toward him)

Not His Home - three-shot following the inevitable mental breakdown of Leo Valdez to his recovery. 2/3

Series Warnings: Depression, runaway tendencies, Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder, schizophrenia, referenced child abuse

All canon-compliant and as family-friendly as I could make it, as curbed by the limits established in Riordan's stories (see: Percy tortures the Goddess of Misery and Nico enacts appropriate vengeance on a murderer)

All in-progress stories on hiatus until further notice.