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

Year:

Only show posts with narrations

I imagined my five year old and his tiny hands hitting my back, like an artist painting a lilac sea on a canvas.

409 upvotes

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I turned on my camera and entered the chat room, making sure beforehand that my hair, clothes, and background looked perfect, hoping someone would want to be my friend.

392 upvotes

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It was at that moment that I realized who my best friends Liv, Leong, Brian, and Reinhart actually were.

270 upvotes

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“I finally did it!” I yelled from the top of the bouldering wall, finally doing a Tier 3 difficulty climb for the first time.

230 upvotes

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After my parents finished another one of their late-night arguments, I slowly opened my bedroom door and snuck into the hallway to use the restroom.

163 upvotes

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Tracing the scars on my wrists was oddly calming, like writing cursive.

94 upvotes

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“Can’t you forgive your father?” my mom pleaded, my father laying on his death bed.

78 upvotes

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I told my dad that I was ready to forgive him for the years of abuse.

65 upvotes

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“Next time, don’t do that or the monster will come out again,” my dad whispered to me.

51 upvotes

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I’m afraid of losing a lover to death again, so to prevent myself from getting hurt, I closed myself off from the world.

48 upvotes

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Title	Upvotes	Mark as read	Favorited	Rating	Add to a list
I imagined my five year old and his tiny hands hitting my back, like an artist painting a lilac sea on a canvas.	409
I turned on my camera and entered the chat room, making sure beforehand that my hair, clothes, and background looked perfect, hoping someone would want to be my friend.	392
It was at that moment that I realized who my best friends Liv, Leong, Brian, and Reinhart actually were.	270
“I finally did it!” I yelled from the top of the bouldering wall, finally doing a Tier 3 difficulty climb for the first time.	230
After my parents finished another one of their late-night arguments, I slowly opened my bedroom door and snuck into the hallway to use the restroom.	163
Tracing the scars on my wrists was oddly calming, like writing cursive.	94
“Can’t you forgive your father?” my mom pleaded, my father laying on his death bed.	78
I told my dad that I was ready to forgive him for the years of abuse.	65
“Next time, don’t do that or the monster will come out again,” my dad whispered to me.	51
I’m afraid of losing a lover to death again, so to prevent myself from getting hurt, I closed myself off from the world.	48