no matter how old I get
I will always be at least slightly convinced that I’m capable of hurting a stuffed animal’s feelings
Toy Story mentally fucked a generation of kids.
Anything involving John and his dad seriously affects me.
Because I’m close to my dad but since I live with my mom I’m far away from him.
Heck when I was little I would always think of worst case scenarios that could happen with my dad which would obviously scare me.
I’m always scared of what can happen to him when I’m at my mom’s place because he’s so far away.
He’s a great dad anyone can ask for.
And seeing John being sad after his dad’s death practically killed me.
I have no idea where I’m going with this.
Just needed to let that out.
A young man stands in his bathroom. It just so happens that today is the first time he will try shaving. He has never before considered that his father would not be there for this IMPORTANT RIGHT OF PASSAGE INTO MANHOOD.
THESE ARE ACTUAL TEARS :C
You’ve imagined this scenario hundreds of times over in your head and now you’re here, with your friends, standing triumphant against The Game.
As you catch your breath and separate from the tight group hug, you turn, scanning the small crowd for a familiar white fedora.
Something catches your eye and your eyes widen and you all but fly over at top speed to the familiar man. “Dad!” you shout, but he instead turns away.
He scoops Jane up into his arms, and your face drops.
Your heart feels several tons heavier as the adrenaline seeps out of your system. Dejectedly, you make your way elsewhere. You can hear the others chattering animatedly with their friends and family, excited to go back to normalcy. There are squeals and shouts of names, but none of it actually gets absorbed by your brain.
Son? You sniff. Your brain must be hallucinating now, because Dad used to call you that. If he was here he’d say,
“Son I’m so proud of you.”
You stop dead in your tracks.
You look up, and there he is, standing barely ten feet from you.
His eyes are darker than Jane’s dad.
They’re not just dead white planes.
His eyes have color.
It’s Dad. He’s alive. He’s here.
It starts as a single step, but you pick up your feet and tackle him to the ground, sobbing into his shoulder.
Dad wraps his arms around you tightly, and you think you hear him getting all choked up. You stay there for what feels long time, with his arms around you strong and secure like when you were a kid. You’re not a kid now, and you haven’t hugged him in what
feels likehas been years.
When you separate and stand back up, you realize that Dad is barely three inches taller than you now. Last time you checked he was at least half a foot taller than you.
“You grew,” he notes with a quiet voice.
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Do I see some stubble?”
You nod again, remembering the first time you tried shaving. Your face was a mess of toilet paper bits and white cream that day.
“You-You always told me that you’d make a congratulatory cake for me when I shaved on my own for the first time.” Inhaling, you try to dispel the shakiness of your voice. Instead that just triggers a sob and a few tears.
Dad steps forward and pulls you into a hug again.
“Ja-Jade sucks at bak-baking,” you sob into his still white shirt.
He shushes you, hugging you tighter. “I’ll bake something when we get home.”
this makes me cry tears that cry tears
I’M SENDING THIS AROUND AGAIN
He opened the bedroom with a cake in his hand, his eyes watering as he sat down on the bed and gently set the cake next to him. He slowly breathed out as he removed his hat and set it on his heart, his gaze on the computer. He hadn’t been in his son’s room in four years, since he had passed away. It was some game that was supposed to be a virtual reality, but it was more like a singularity. John had uploaded himself into that blasted game to create a new world and the game killed him. The man ran his hand through his graying hair and coughed as he pulled the knife from the cake and cut himself a slice, a fork having been sitting on the tray. “Happy seventeenth birthday, son… If you’re hearing this, I miss you, but I am so, so very proud of you.” he whispered softly as he picked up the fork and took a very small bite from the cake. It wasn’t Betty Crocker. He knew how much his son hated Betty Crocker. He stopped baking Betty Crocker four years ago, and he breathed out again as he tasted the store brand on his tongue. He rolled the flavor in his mouth and closed his eyes, imagining the face of his boy grinning up at him, telling him thank you and that he was the best dad ever. “Happy birthday.”
Why would you do that
I AM FUCKING DEAD. SO I WAS HAVING TROUBLE DOWNLOADING THE SIMS 2 THING THAT’S BEEN GOING AROUND SO I CONTACTED THEIR LIVE CHAT SUPPORT FOR HELP. WELL THE PERSON WANTED MY INFO AND FOR ME TO ANSWER THE SECURITY QUESTION I SET UP SO THEY COULD PUT THE GAME IN MY COLLECTION.
THE QUESTION WAS “What was your dream job as a kid?”
GUESS WHO HAD TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION TO A LIVE PERSON WITH “Doing your mom.”. SPOILET ALERT IT WAS FUCKING ME.