Hannah 🌱

[Hannah 🌱 @heyhannahbecker]

These didn’t make the ig cut

[Modern History @modernhistory]

Catherine Zeta-Jones as
Scheherazade in 'Arabian
Nights' (1990)

[Jes @bloodstarvedjax]

I'm so fr you should be burned at the stake for saying this

[TOP DOG LAW @DejahNoVu]

pussy on the ground journalism 😭

[bug @bugcel_]

videos like these are like cocomelon for your coworker who has partial custody of his kid

[cole @shaunasadecki]

if you lot don't put the ai down

[Marie🧚 @glitchu__]

Thank God I was born into the best era in the world to be a girl

[serena shahidi @glamdemon2004]

They’re calling it the saddest story ever told in only six words

[⚝ ⚝ ⚝ @ThinkFloating]

this is how we’re meant to live

[pearl 📖 @pearlreads_]

:(

[Madame Black Swan 🕷🦢 @DrIndyEinstein]

being famous has to suck like I can’t even get wasted on my birthday anymore in my 20s?

[✧ @cessonmute]

i found an old “to-do” list in my mom’s handwriting from 2003. item #3 was “buy a new dress for myself.” it was crossed out, and underneath she wrote, “buy school shoes for little lamb.” that's me, i’m little lamb. i looked at my shelf of medals and certificates and realized they were all paid for in dresses she never wore

[m @msnetik]

sorry just saw this

[Crazy Vibes @CrazyVibes_1]

My mother-in-law kept every broken earring, every loose button, every tiny trinket in an old Folgers can for forty-three years. When she passed last spring, my husband wanted to throw it all away.

I stood in her kitchen, holding that rusty can while he loaded boxes into the truck. The morning light caught a piece of costume jewelry at the bottom - a butterfly pin missing one wing. I remembered her wearing it to my wedding, proudly telling everyone her late sister had given it to her. My chest got tight.

"Just old junk," my husband said, reaching for the can. But I pulled it closer, feeling the weight of all those little pieces. The smell of her lavender hand cream still lingered on some of the fabric buttons. I couldn't let go.

For weeks, that can sat on my dining table. I'd catch myself running my fingers through the contents while drinking coffee - finding theater ticket stubs from 1987, a child's hospital bracelet (my husband's, from when he broke his arm), single earrings from sets she'd loved. Each piece whispered a story I'd never hear.

Then I remembered seeing these shadow box displays on online shop when I was browsing for vintage frames to sell some of my own crafts. This seller had turned her grandmother's sewing notions into art. Something clicked. Maybe I didn't have to let go of everything.

My sister helped me sort through it all one rainy Saturday. We found her first driver's license, a locket with a photo of her as a young bride, keys to houses long sold. "Mom would've loved this," my husband said quietly when he saw us working, his voice catching. He sat down and started telling me what each piece meant - stories I'd never heard in twenty years of marriage.

We ended up making three shadow boxes. The butterfly pin sits at the center of one, surrounded by all her other broken beautiful things. When we hung them in our hallway, my husband stood there for the longest time, just looking. "She would've pretended to be embarrassed," he said, wiping his eyes. "But she would've loved that we kept it all."

Now when guests ask about them, we get to tell her stories. How that tarnished thimble helped sew my husband's Scout badges. How those mismatched buttons came from her father's Navy uniform.

Turns out it wasn't junk at all. It was proof that she'd lived, loved, and held onto the things that mattered - even if they were broken. And now, finally, I understood why.

[ant ☆ @dojonikaa]

i think we’re just gonna have to accept the fact that she’s a loser now

[spice boy 🍯❣️ @PeachieBottoms]

this dance aint for the weak lmaoo took me days to learn 😭