The Thing About Millennials Who Don’t Want Kids Is I Feel Like A Lot Of Them Are Deeply On Board For

It is 😂

It meant I got to learn so much with him though. It’s why he’ll always be my friend - he was my first kiss, first relationship, first person I did everything with ☺️

It’s a good one for in work, when they made us do a group icebreaker of “two truths and a lie” as no one would think a 10 year relationship from teenage years would work!

@getwaytooinvolved

First kiss - I was 14 and it was with a guy I’d had a crush on for ages but assumed nothing was going to happen as we were friends. After, I told my best friend that I hoped it didn’t impact the friendship I had with him. Two days later he wrote me a letter to bare his soul and we were together for 10 years 😂 we broke up but are still good friends although my first kiss with someone other than him felt weird cos I was 25 by then! 🙈

Holy shit 10 years?? That's a freaking long time 😲

I lost my best friend. I’m a mess every day year on the anniversary. When people ask me if I could have one thing, it is still - and I think always will be - to be able to speak to him one more time.

This broke my heart in all the best ways - it’s written so well and deserves everyone to read it ❤️

prompt 106 with ghost!Shawn 👻

106. I’m right here. I’ve been here all along, but you still can’t see me

———————-

June 27th was no longer an ordinary day marked off of your calendar. It hadn’t been one for three years, actually. It was an anniversary, one that wasn’t celebrated by cake, or balloons, or gifts. Three years without your best friend, yet it only seemed to get harder with time.

You tried not to grieve as much as you used to, but the minute the clock struck midnight, every June 27th since that fateful night, you couldn’t help but break all the strength you’ve mustered up over the years.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself up there.” You muttered, clutching his pink hoodie, one of the many that his parents gave to you, insisting that he would’ve wanted you to have them because you always had a thing for wearing them.

You sobbed into the fabric, slight whiffs of his cologne still treaded in the fabrics. You had no idea how they managed to still smell like him, but you hoped that it never had to change. “I miss you so much.” You croak, not sure if it’s possible that he can hear you or not, but hoping that your words somehow reach the other side.

You pulled out the dusty photo albulm from underneath your bed. You used to go through it religiously, constantly adding new photos of the two of you and your adventures. Now it was just too hard for you to do. In every photo, he’s smiling wide, eyes are bright and full of life, you’re both so happy, enjoying your lives together.

You smile to yourself, recalling so many amazing memories that the two of you shared, but it still sent a crippling pain through your heart. “I’m going to make sure my future kids know all about their uncle Shawn.” You whispered, wiping a tear slipping down your cheek.

You eventually fell asleep with the photo album laying over your chest, his hoodie being used as a blanket. You woke up around four, noticing that you left your light on and the photo album out. You sat up, closing the album and slipping it back underneath the bed. You made your way to the bathroom, Shawn’s hoodie clutched to your chest like a baby and its favorite blanket.

You took a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes, sunken cheeks, brittle hair, June 27th. It never fails. You turned on the sink, leaning down to splash your face with some water, and just as the cool liquid is splattering against your skin, you hear a low whisper from behind you. “Miss you”

You shoot back up, eyes snapping on the mirror, nothing at all around you to have made any kind of noise. You look around, brows knitting as you clutch Shawn’s hoodie. You think you might me going crazy, maybe you just need sleep. Maybe you miss Shawn so much that you think you’re hearing his voice. Either way, you excuse it, cutting the water off and making your way back to the bed.

You climb back up, wrapping the blankets around you, cutting out the bedside lamp. You clutch his hoodie, nose dug into the fabric in an attempt to still feel like he’s with you. Just as your eyes flutter shut and your mind slowly slips into dreamland, you hear that low whisper again. “Goodnight. I love you.”

You shoot back up, cutting on your lamp and scanning the room. You feel like your body is rushing with adrenaline, as if you need to be on full defense, but the feeling in the room tells you that there’s no need to be afraid. “Shawn?” You whisper, feeling crazy for even calling for him but you know you weren’t just hearing things in your head.

“Shawn? Are you here?” You ask, slipping out from under the covers, feet dangling above the floor. You don’t hear anything else. Don’t see anything. But you can feel the shift in the atmosphere. You’re not alone, and you know that.

“Where are you? Can I- can I see you?” You ask, slightly afraid. You’re not sure how you would take seeing him again, knowing you can’t run up and hug him anymore. You listen, you wait, begging for him to respond to you.

“Shawn?” You call again, tears edging your eyes and slipping down your puffy cheeks. “I’m right here.” You hear, low, soft, barely audible but loudly heard. “I’ve been here all along. But you still can’t see me.”

“Why? Why can’t I see you?” You whisper shout, hands shaking even though you’re not scared at all. “You’re not ready.” You hear, sounding as if his voice is fading out. “I have to go.” He fades away, leaving you in tears, begging for him to stay.

“No! Please don’t leave me!” You plead. You rise from the bed, slowly feeling the dense atmosphere return to normal, and just when you think he’s gone, and you collapse down on the floor with your head in your hands, you hear his voice again, barely audibly, hardly even heard this time. “I’ll never leave you.”

HOW IS HE SO PERFECT

Sandra the Orangutan started washing her hands after observing her caretakers doing it.

people at work: wow, you are always in such a good mood, how do you do that?

me, an actually cranky, apathetic, trainwreck human: it’s called manners, susan.

i think about this youtube comment at least once a day

Shawnblr turning on Shawn to support Alessia instead when he did her dirty is the type of feminist revolt I like to see.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) dir. Ron Howard

This is a spoiler!?