/u/PistachioPug's posts in /r/TwoSentenceSadness

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Your nursery is painted, your crib built, your dresser packed with little pastel outfits.

171 upvotes

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Somewhere in the multiverse, there's a place where I'm part of the story of your life.

167 upvotes

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I do love my son.

162 upvotes

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I'm not sure whether you were trying to hurt me just now, or simply not thinking.

156 upvotes

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The Saturday after the accident, everyone murmured condolences to the bereaved mother: such a bright little girl ... would have grown up to do great things ...

152 upvotes

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"Please stop," she cried, "you're hurting me."

151 upvotes

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They say pain is just weakness leaving the body.

147 upvotes

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She was an abused child, counting down the days until she could move out on her own and the shouting would stop.

145 upvotes

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My little sister scoffed when I told her not to use "gay" as a pejorative, but she's cleaned up her act since our father came out of the closet.

143 upvotes

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I still have the last letter you ever wrote me, and when missing you gets to be too much, I take it out and allow your final words to flow over me once again.

141 upvotes

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Title	Upvotes	Mark as read	Favorited	Rating	Add to a list
Your nursery is painted, your crib built, your dresser packed with little pastel outfits.	171
Somewhere in the multiverse, there's a place where I'm part of the story of your life.	167
I do love my son.	162
I'm not sure whether you were trying to hurt me just now, or simply not thinking.	156
The Saturday after the accident, everyone murmured condolences to the bereaved mother: such a bright little girl ... would have grown up to do great things ...	152
"Please stop," she cried, "you're hurting me."	151
They say pain is just weakness leaving the body.	147
She was an abused child, counting down the days until she could move out on her own and the shouting would stop.	145
My little sister scoffed when I told her not to use "gay" as a pejorative, but she's cleaned up her act since our father came out of the closet.	143
I still have the last letter you ever wrote me, and when missing you gets to be too much, I take it out and allow your final words to flow over me once again.	141