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Jun 19 · 30
Childhood/Nostalgia
Papaya Jun 19
The reason we romanticise our childhood isn't because we miss it; most of us would do anything not to go back or maybe even to forget it.
When we were children, we had no past; we were free. Our past is what keeps us in a mind-cage. We are slaves to it.
To find true freedom, one must live each day as if it were their first.
π‘­π’Šπ’π’… π’π’π’”π’•π’‚π’π’ˆπ’Šπ’‚ π’Šπ’ π’šπ’†π’”π’•π’†π’“π’…π’‚π’š.
Jun 19 · 26
~To The Sun
Papaya Jun 19
Even when you're out sight,
Even on my happy days,
You're bright.
from a painting with sunshine and no sun. I wrote this 4 years ago; I don't really understand it now.
Jun 19 · 130
To The Moon
Papaya Jun 19
Even when shielded by the clouds,
Even on my darkest nights,
You shine.


Why give up when the moon is so beautiful?
From a painting of the moon half covered by clouds.
Jun 18 · 54
Paranoia
Papaya Jun 18
I have never truly been alone.
I have always written to an audience, to someone.
Someone who sees in me even what I don't see in myself.
I am always being watched.
At night, my pillow watches.
In the kitchen, the window watches.
On a walk, the leaves whisper warnings in the wind.
I don’t understand when people ask what I’m like when I’m alone
because I have never truly been alone.
I experimented with structure to mirror my inescapable paranoia using circular writing.
Papaya Jun 18
Because joy is the absence of sadness
and sadness is the absence of you.
from my journal, 4th of Feb.
Jun 18 · 60
14th of Sept
Papaya Jun 18
Something I notice in myself, in my sadness, is the way I yearn for it during times of happiness,
But absolutely despise it when it truly comes.
From my journal
Jun 18 · 98
oneness
Papaya Jun 18
Humans are inherently selfish
Everything you experience, everything you preceive
Your world
Your reality
All of it is an extension of yourself
Jun 18 · 17
Love Letter
Papaya Jun 18
This is probably the least exciting love letter you've ever read. Maybe my love for you doesn't excite you, it doesn't feel like a challenge or like anything you can win.
I don't want you to win me, I don't want there to be a winner. I want truth, understanding. I want you to see in me what I see in you. I want to give you, to show you, life.
But you already have that, you can learn nothing from me; you can use my brain to think, you can use every part of my being, but you can never learn from me.
This isn't my love for you that writes these lines; my love for you is happy, sunny, green, it is filled with memories of your smile and brown eyes. This is my premature regret, my fear of losing you, my acknowledgement of the free will you gave me, the one that I cannot bring myself to use to make you feel this void inside me that calls your name.
Maybe this is a plea, a way for me to beg you to accept me. Maybe it's reassuring to think that if I say it a certain way, it might disgust you less. I don't want to repel you.
From a love letter I wrote. I couldn't write about my love for her because I don't understand it. I can only write about my fear of never telling her.
Jun 12 · 52
my first poem
Papaya Jun 12
Why is it that a stranger's gaze is the only thing that truly comforts me
This is the one I posted to get invited!! I thought I had to share; I think you should too!

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