@SirDavidBent Tired of your slow, clunky laptop holding you back? 💻 Upgrade your game with a brand new lightning-fast machine! Get ready to conquer your work, crush your studies, and unleash your creativity. We've got the perfect laptop for you, whatever you need. #UpgradeYourTech
Years ago, I lost a family member to commercial sex work. She contracted HIV and couldn’t accept it. Within two years, it progressed to AIDS. I nursed her for three weeks before she died. I had her phone throughout and it kept buzzing 🧵
@Oladipsoflife one the best mhennnn woke up to march 24 II nothing you wan tell me there're some rappers you can't understand if you never face local life mhennnn
@eazykelee@DeltaAlpha2x Those werey go come larony come ball we go pursue ourselves commot with bottle and stones even the so-called living stone and true light which were private school na oyabo go scatter us last last 😹😹😹
This will bring a tear to your eye.... - Shared from Casey Lynn. A tattoo artist.
❤"Yesterday a woman walked in at 4 PM. No appointment. Asked if I could squeeze her in.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She showed me a photo on her phone. Numbers. Just numbers.
“392. On my wrist. Simple. Black. Can you do it now?”
I looked at her. She’d been crying. Eyes red. Hands shaking.
“Yeah, I can do it. But can I ask what 392 means?”
She sat down in my chair. Took a breath.
“It’s the number of days my daughter stayed clean before she overdosed. I found her yesterday. I want to remember she tried. That 392 days mattered.”
I didn’t know what to say. Just nodded. Started setting up.
She kept talking. Needed to talk.
“Everyone’s going to say she relapsed. That she failed. That addicts always relapse. But they won’t say she was sober for 392 days. That she went to meetings. Got a job. Started painting again. That she was my daughter again for 392 days. They’ll remember one day. The last day. But I’m going to remember 392.”
Her voice broke.
“This tattoo is proof those days existed. That she fought. That she almost made it.”
I finished the tattoo. Simple numbers. 392. On her wrist. Where she could see it every day.
She paid. Tipped way too much. Started to leave. Then turned back.
“Can I ask you something weird?”
“Anything,” I said.
“Can you keep that stencil? The 392? And if anyone ever comes in here struggling with addiction. Or losing someone to addiction. Can you offer to do this tattoo for free? Any number. However many days their person stayed clean. 10 days. 100 days. 1 day. I don’t care. Just so they know those days counted.”
She left before I could answer.
I kept the 392 stencil. Put it in a frame behind my counter. Wrote under it:
“Days of sobriety tattoos — always free. Any number. Because every day counts.”
I didn’t think anyone would take me up on it.
Three days later, a man came in. Saw the sign. Started crying.
“Can you do 1,279?”
“Absolutely. Who’s it for?”
“My brother. He was sober 1,279 days. Died in a car accident last week. Sober driver hit by a drunk driver. The irony is killing me. He fought so hard. And some stranger took him out.”
I did the tattoo for free. He hugged me for five minutes.
Word spread.
I’ve done 23 sobriety number tattoos in three weeks. Free. Every single one. 47 days. 6 days. 1,823 days. 2 days. One woman got “14 hours” tattooed.
“My son stayed clean for 14 hours before he relapsed and died. Everyone says 14 hours doesn’t count. But it does. He tried. For 14 hours he tried.”
I tattooed 14 hours on her shoulder. She sobbed the entire time.
When I finished, she looked at it and whispered, “Now everyone will know he tried.”
Yesterday someone came in and asked for “0 days.”
I was confused. “Zero?”
He nodded.
“My daughter never got clean. She tried to quit so many times. Went to rehab four times. But never made it past a few hours before using again. She died at 23. Everyone says she didn’t try. But she did. She tried so hard. Zero days sober but a million attempts. Can you tattoo 0 with a little infinity symbol?”
Because her attempts were infinite even if her days weren’t.
I cried while doing that tattoo. Zero with an infinity symbol. For a girl who never stopped trying even though she never succeeded.
A teenager came in two days ago. Seventeen years old. With his dad.
“Can you do 91 days? For me. I’m 91 days sober. I want to remember.”
I looked at his dad. Dad nodded.
“He asked for this. I’m proud of him.”
I did the tattoo. 91 on his forearm. When I finished, the kid stared at it.
“Now when I want to use, I’ll see this. I’ll remember I made it to 91. I can make it to 92.”
His dad paid. Tipped $200.
“You’re saving lives with ink,” he said. “Keep doing this.”
The kid comes back every 30 days. I add a small tally mark next to his 91. He’s up to 151 days now. Five tally marks. He’s going to make it.
The original woman came back yesterday. The 392 tattoo.
I’ve been the town librarian for twenty-five years. A library is supposed to be a safe haven, but to a kid who made a mistake, it can feel like a courtroom.
On a quiet Thursday afternoon, an eight-year-old girl named Maya walked up to my desk. She was usually my best patron, always leaving with a stack of fantasy novels up to her chin.
Today, she only had one book. And it was in a plastic grocery bag.
She slid it across the desk. Her eyes were red and puffy. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
I opened the bag. The book was completely destroyed. Waterlogged, pages stuck together, the spine warped beyond repair.
"My little brother pulled it into the bathtub," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "My mom says she can't afford the replacement fee until next month. She said I can't check out any more books until it's paid."
I checked her account. The replacement fee was $24. To a struggling family, $24 might as well be $1,000.
I saw the heartbreak in Maya's eyes. She was a reader. Taking away her books was like taking away her oxygen.
I started typing aggressively on my keyboard.
"Maya," I said, putting on my best serious-librarian voice. "Did this book happen to fall into the bathtub on a Tuesday?"
She sniffled. "Um... yes. It was Tuesday night."
"Thank goodness," I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "Because the library board just passed the 'Accidental Submersion Tuesday' bylaw. If a book is ruined by water, specifically on a Tuesday, the publisher covers the cost completely. It's a very rare loophole, but you qualify."
She stopped crying. "I do?"
"You do," I said, dragging the ruined book straight into the trash can. "Fee is waived. Now, go grab the new Percy Jackson book. I know you've been waiting for it."
After she ran off to the shelves, I pulled my debit card out and paid the $24 fee online.
We talk so much about teaching kids responsibility.
But sometimes, teaching a kid about grace is infinitely more valuable.
A love of reading should never be suffocated by a price tag.
Anonymous
We’re not talking about it that much not because “We no get motion” but because we’re “JADED”.
One disadvantage of being a fan of Real Madrid is that we’ve experienced so many elite moments that things which amaze the rest of the football world sometimes feel common to us.
I’ve seen Rodrygo score a hat-trick on his UCL debut against Galatasaray.
I’ve seen Vini score a hat-trick against Dortmund.
I watched Karim Benzema score a hat-trick against PSG in March 2022. The next month, April, he scored another hat-trick against Chelsea, and the month after that he scored a brace against Man City. Ramadan Karim>>>>>
And then there’s Cristiano Ronaldo with hat-tricks against clubs like Wolfsburg, Bayern Munich, Atl Madrid, and Juventus
Kylian Mbappé even scored a hat-trick against Man City last season.
Real Madrid have made so many comebacks that comebacks have become normal to us. The whole football world calls us the ‘Kings of comebacks’.
There’s no category of goal I haven’t seen a Madrid player score.
Is it Sergio Ramos’ 93rd-minute header in the Champions League final?
Cristiano Ronaldo’s overhead kick?
Gareth Bale’s brace in the UCL final against Liverpool F.C. or his famous solo run against FC Barcelona?
Zidane's stunning left-footed volley?
Rodrygo’s late goals against Manchester City F.C.?
Vini's nutmeg goal against City?
Federico Valverde’s rocket against Napoli?
Or Casemiro scoring past Buffon?
The list is endless.
Real Madrid have spoiled their fans with so much success that any season we don’t win the UEFA Champions League feels like a bad season.
So expecting Madrid fans to start shouting on Twitter because Federico Valverde scored a hat-trick against Man City is like expecting Elon Musk to be happy that you followed him on this app while nah him get the app!