The season for tearjerkers?

Recently, everywhere I go online I find various tearjerker stories: a baby talking to his mother from inside her womb, a little boy who can't afford to buy a doll... In the end, we find out that the baby was getting aborted, and the boy was buying the doll for his little sister so "mommy could give it to her when she goes to heaven...." Each story is aimed at a particular issue: abortion and loss/poverty/giving in these two instances, "daily miracles" of love and forgiveness, and treasuring friends over possessions. The list of topics can go on, and on, and on. At the end of each story, as if to add guilt to tears, the post asks "to re-post if it touched your heart or do nothing if it did not."
I guess my heart is just untouchable, because I never re-post these stories. For one, I do not believe in chain letters, and that's what these stories basically are. The people that posted these did not write them, they just hit "re-post" (or "share") and made it "theirs" for the day. And while hitting "Share" shows them to be sensitive and understanding, what does it do for anyone - except overload internet?
That was "for one"... For "two" (sounds too weird), over the years I have come to recognize all the stories that get posted. It seems several stories - always the same - go out every year around September - beginning of October, they reach their peak around Thanksgiving and slow down right after Christmas. The story about the little boy with the doll was seen by me every year for the past ten years. My once-sensitive heart was aching the first time I read it, but eventually sympathy gave way to cold recognition of a gimmick.

Which is what it is... A gimmick, an advertisement of sympathy and compassion - online, for everyone to see. Instead of doing something real - hit "Like" and "Share" in your corner of virtual space. That's just...

This says it all. 

About a lady who did not want to go to the ball

Once there was a lady who was invited to attend a ball. Her daughter was turning 16, and the ball was her coming-out party.
The lady was very happy and proud for her daughter. Indeed, the girl was beautiful, intelligent, well-spoken, polite and respectful -- what else was there to wish for?
So, the lady started to get ready for the ball. She wanted to look good on her daughter's special day. But the lady could not help feeling sad, for no matter what she did, what makeup cream or powder she used, or how well she dressed, she could not feel beautiful. All the makeup and powder, instead of making her prettier, just reminded her of her age and made her face look shiny.

Just then the daughter came into her mother's dressing room. She did not need to dress up - or powder up - to look pretty. The lady was reminded of the time - not so long ago, it seemed - when she was young and beautiful. Not any more...

And so the lady made a decision. "I am too old for these wild parties," she said. "Let your father take you, and I shall stay home." - "But I want you to come," protested the daughter. " I want you to be there for me."
Then, the lady took out a cameo brooch.

 " Put it on your dress, " she said. "That way, I will always be with you, and you will always remember what you will become, and we'll be inseparable. "
The daughter put on the present and went to the ball...
However, it did not turn out quite as expected..... 

Gifts of Depression

My therapist says I ought to "get out there" and meet people, put myself in the situation where contact with others  would be possible. Then, she says, I give myself a chance to meet the ones I might like, and then - who knows? - I just might find friends.
I thought about her suggestion long and hard, and instead locked myself inside. Contact with others, conversations - all this seems fairly pointless. I have come to the conclusion that I do not like most people, and contact is often painful. Not because they say mean things or intend to hurt me, mind you. It is just so painfully obvious that they don't care.
While inside, I did not waste time, though. I learned how to crochet afghan blankets - and made two for my daughters. I also made a basket of biscornu to go with it. So, here are my Gifts of Depression.
Enjoy!

I liked working on the patterns, crocheting - with its repetitive design - seems to be therapy in itself.

Have a good time, everyone, and don't let your depression and stress go to waste. As Christopher Titus said in his latest album "Neverlution", stressing and worrying is NORMAL. Worrying about rent getting paid is HOW RENT GETS PAID.
And after paying rent - get creative to commemorate the occasion. And these will be the gifts - of depression.