friendship
C.S Lewis got it right: friendship is born when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one!"
The Value of the Human Body. A Look at Body Part Prices.
1. Legal Donation and Medical Value In many countries, including the USA, body parts are not sold for profit, but the cost of medical procedures involving them can reflect their value. For example, when someone donates a kidney, they do not receive payment, but the transplant surgery can cost $250,000–$400,000 in the U.S. This includes the hospital stay, surgeon fees, medications, and post-operation care.
By USA daily update about a year ago in Humans
The Day I Walked Away to Find Myself
I didn’t pack a bag. I didn’t write a long goodbye text. I didn’t even take my charger. I just slipped my phone onto airplane mode, put it face down on the table, and walked out of my apartment like the place was holding its breath and I was finally letting it exhale. Outside, the city was still wet from last night’s rain. Puddles collected the sky in broken pieces, and the air smelled like metal and mud. I didn’t have a destination. That was the point. For years, every step I took belonged to a plan, a person, a deadline. That morning, I decided to walk until the noise inside me ran out of words. At the first red light, I almost turned back. My mind did what it always does—started counting the things I should be doing: the emails, the apology I owed someone, the message I hadn’t replied to, the life I hadn’t been living. But then the light changed to green, and I let the city make the choice for me. I crossed. There’s a bakery three blocks down that I’ve passed a thousand times but never entered. Today I did. The bell above the door made a soft, old sound, like it had been there long before me and would stay long after. The woman behind the counter had kind eyes and a tired smile. “First time?” she asked, and when I nodded, she said, “Then you’re getting the almond croissant. Non-negotiable.” I took my coffee and croissant to a corner table and sat where I could watch the window fog and clear with every gust of wind from the door. I tore the pastry open with my fingers, watching flakes scatter like little versions of me—every piece given away over the years. Every favor I didn’t have the energy to do but said yes to. Every conversation where I swallowed the truth and served something easier instead. My reflection in the window looked like a stranger I almost recognized. I remembered being fourteen and filling the last page of a cheap blue diary with a promise to never lose myself for anyone. I remembered being twenty-three and erasing parts of myself like pencil marks, to fit into a shape that didn’t scare anyone. I remembered last week, staring at a ceiling at 3:17 a.m., wondering how a person could be surrounded by people and still feel like a locked room. When I finished the croissant, I wrote on the napkin: I miss me. I folded it and put it in my pocket like evidence. Back on the street, I walked without thinking. Past the bus stop where I once cried into a scarf no one noticed. Past the park where I used to read before life got louder than books. Past a couple arguing in low, exhausted voices—the kind of fight where both people want to be understood but neither wants to listen first. I didn’t judge them. I just recognized them. I had been both of them. I kept walking until the city started to thin out and the trees got taller. There’s a small footbridge over a creek—nothing special, just wood and rusted nails—but I stood there longer than I planned. The water underneath moved with a kind of certainty I envied. It didn’t argue with the rocks. It didn’t justify its path. It just went. So I tried something I hadn’t done in years: I talked to myself out loud. Not the panicked kind of self-talk you do when you’re late or lost, but the honest kind. “I don’t hate my life,” I said to the creek. “I just don’t remember choosing most of it.” I listed things I thought I loved and realized some of them were just habits. I listed people I gave my time to and realized some of them were just comfortable ghosts. I listed rules I lived by and realized some of them were never mine. An older man with a baseball cap and a dog passed me on the bridge. He nodded. I nodded back. It felt like we were sharing a secret: neither of us had figured it out, and both of us were still trying. On the way back, I took a different route, on purpose. I didn’t want to return to my apartment the same way I left it. I stopped at a stationery shop and bought a notebook with a cover the color of wet leaves. At home, I made tea I didn’t drink and sat at my desk without opening my laptop. I wrote three headings on the first page: What I’m Carrying, What I’m Letting Go, What I’m Choosing. Under What I’m Carrying, I wrote: The fear that if I stop saying yes, I’ll stop being loved. The belief that if I’m not useful, I’m not valuable. The version of me people clap for, even when it exhausts me. Under What I’m Letting Go, I wrote: Apologizing for needing rest. Explaining my boundaries to people committed to misunderstanding them. Waiting to be chosen. And under What I’m Choosing, I wrote slowly, like I wanted the ink to sink deeper than the page: Mornings that start quiet. People who ask, “How are you, really?” and wait for the answer. Work that feeds me, not just my resume. Saying no without a novel attached. A life where I don’t abandon myself to be acceptable. I cried—not the dramatic movie kind, but the messy kind you almost choke on because it’s coming from someplace deep and old. When it stopped, I felt empty in a way that wasn’t scary. It felt like an empty room ready to be lived in. I texted two people. One was an apology that didn’t include self-blame. The other was a boundary that didn’t include justification. Neither reply came immediately. For once, I didn’t refresh the screen to make them arrive faster. As the day faded into evening, I lit the only candle I owned, the one I’d been saving for a “special moment” I could never define. The room smelled like vanilla and something I couldn’t name—maybe hope, maybe freedom, maybe both. I read a few pages from a book I never finished, not because I was trying to be productive but because I actually wanted to know how the character ended up. Before sleeping, I taped the napkin from the bakery above my desk: I miss me. Under it, on the notebook’s first page, I added one more line: But I think I know where to find me now. I won’t pretend everything changed overnight. The next day, I still had emails. People still asked for things. Old habits still knocked like persistent salesmen. But now I had a door I could close. A voice I could hear. A map I was actually willing to follow. Choosing yourself isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a daily practice. It’s the way you put your phone down when your heart needs silence. It’s the way you breathe before you answer. It’s the way you leave a room that keeps shrinking you. It’s the way you return to the bridge, to the bakery, to the notebook—again and again—until the life you’re living finally sounds like your own voice reading it out loud. If you’re lost right now, I won’t tell you to be brave. I’ll tell you to be honest. Sit with the life you’ve built and ask, “How much of this belongs to me?” If the answer hurts, don’t run. Take a walk. Buy a cheap notebook. Write badly but truthfully. Cry without apologizing. Say no without decorating it. And then, when you’re ready, choose yourself in small, stubborn ways—until it becomes the only way you know how to live. Maybe one day you’ll tape your own sentence above your desk. Maybe it’ll say I’m back. Maybe it’ll just say Me. Either way, I hope you never forget it.
By Nirupam Kushwaha about a year ago in Humans
Condom Uses: What You Need to Know
Imagine a simple, thin shield that has quietly reshaped public health, empowered millions, and averted countless crises around the world. It’s a tool often whispered about, sometimes debated, yet its impact resonates globally – from bustling metropolises to remote villages. Despite its humble appearance, this guardian has a fascinating history, far-reaching benefits, and persistent misunderstandings. Have you ever considered how one small invention could hold such immense power in protecting futures and promoting well-being across diverse cultures? This isn't just about a product; it’s about understanding a pivotal instrument in the ongoing fight for healthier lives and stronger communities worldwide.
By Reality Brooabout a year ago in Humans
Words That Touch the Soul: Deep Love Messages She’ll Never Forget
In a world where quick texts and emojis have become the norm, something as timeless and profound as a deep love message can be a rare treasure. We often forget how powerful words can be when they are soaked in emotion, vulnerability, and truth. When you truly love someone, especially a woman who holds your heart, expressing that love in words can create unforgettable moments—messages she’ll read over and over again, messages she’ll save, messages she’ll feel in her soul. This isn’t about flashy quotes or copy-paste lines. This is about raw, honest, deep love—put into words. Whether you’ve been with her for years or you’re just discovering the depth of your feelings, here are a few long and heartfelt messages you can draw inspiration from. Each one is a testament to what it means to love deeply, fearlessly, and sincerely. --- 💌 Message 1: “My Safe Place” My love, I don’t think I can fully express what you mean to me, but I’ll try anyway. When I wake up, it’s your face I wish I could see first. When I go to bed, it’s your voice I want to hear last. You’ve become my safe place, my comfort zone, my peace in a chaotic world. I’ve never met someone who could calm my storms just by existing. With you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be strong all the time. I can just be me. You see the broken pieces I try to hide, and instead of running, you stay. That means more than words can ever say. I hope you know how deeply you are loved—how grateful I am for every laugh, every hug, every fight that taught us how to love better. You’re not just my girlfriend, my partner… You’re the heart that beats in my chest when mine is too tired to keep going. I love you, endlessly. --- 💌 Message 2: “Even On My Worst Days” My queen, Loving you is the easiest decision I’ve ever made. But it’s not just your beauty, or your smile, or the way your eyes light up when you’re excited. It’s the way you love me when I don’t deserve it. The way you believe in me when I can’t see my own worth. You’ve seen me on my worst days—those moments when I’m distant, impatient, or overwhelmed. And yet, you don’t give up. You don’t walk away. You stay, and that means everything. I want to build a life with you that feels like poetry—messy, real, beautiful. I want to celebrate your wins like they’re my own, hold your hand through losses, and wake up every day promising to love you better than the day before. You are the greatest gift life has given me, and I’ll spend the rest of my days making sure you feel just how precious you are. --- 💌 Message 3: “If I Could Paint Love” If I could paint love, it would look like you. It would have your warmth, your strength, your laughter. It would carry your name in every brushstroke. If I could write a book about everything you make me feel, it would never end. You make me want to be a better man. You’ve taught me that love isn’t just about grand gestures—it’s in the small things. The way you hold my hand. The way you remember my favorite songs. The way you whisper “I love you” like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. You are my inspiration. My heart belongs to you, and even if I live a hundred lives, I would always choose you. Over and over again. Thank you for being you—completely, beautifully, wonderfully you. --- 💌 Message 4: “When We’re Old and Gray” Someday, when we’re old and gray, sitting side by side on a porch somewhere, I hope we look back on this journey and smile. I hope we laugh at the silly fights and cherish the quiet nights. I hope we remember how hard we loved, even when life tested us. Because I want to grow old with you, not just in age, but in love. I want to know what it’s like to love someone for a lifetime—and I want that someone to be you. Even now, when I look at you, I see forever. I see a thousand possibilities, all more beautiful because they include you. --- Why These Messages Matter Love is more than just a feeling—it’s action, it’s intention, and it’s words. Especially for women who crave emotional connection, hearing how deeply they’re loved can be healing. It can strengthen trust, deepen intimacy, and spark a sense of safety in the relationship. These long love messages are more than just paragraphs—they’re emotional anchors. They say, “I see you. I value you. I’m not going anywhere.” So don’t wait for a special occasion. Send her something today. Let her know she’s the reason your heart beats a little faster, your days feel a little lighter, and your life is a lot more meaningful. After all, words have power—but only when spoken. Or better yet, written with love. Thank you for reading this 🥰.
By Azmat Roman ✨about a year ago in Humans
LIFE....
The Beginning of Life Life begins with birth, but it truly starts to take shape as we grow. In our early years, we explore the world with curiosity. As children, everything is new — we learn to walk, talk, and understand the basics of relationships and emotions. These early stages are the foundation of who we become.
By USA daily update about a year ago in Humans
how to impress a teacher
I still remember the day I stayed after my college lecture in Mumbai, heart pounding, hands sweaty—only to offer the professor a thoughtful question that revealed I’d done more than skim the slides. That moment wasn’t about flattery; it set the tone for how she saw me—as someone genuinely curious.
By Michael B Norris (swagNextTuber)about a year ago in Humans
