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Painting the Sun
When I was a child, I would paint with all of the colors of the sun, and I was so inspired.
These colors ment something to us.
Red was love.
Green being nature.
The sky was blue and everything was so beautiful.
I remember it being seven in the morning, and I would eagerly wake up to see the colors of the sun shine through my green curtains, dancing on my ceiling, and gliding down my walls, onto my bed.
It was time to see the day.
And as I have gotten older, I see different colors, and I'm afraid.
I'm afraid to loose sight of what's beautiful.
Red is now the love in which I do not have.
There is no green in nature, none at all.
The sky isn't blue anymore, oh god help me.
Now I see so many terrifying things.
Pink is the barbie doll that I wish I was,
Yellow is her hair that I long for.
I see a purple that shows so much hate and a grey that shows how empty I feel and a black that shows the nothingness within me, please someone save me.
I'm spending so much time in my room trying to find these colors,
Trying to blend them to match her shade of lipstick or the color of her dress that flows down her perfect waist line.
I'm blending and blending and it seems like...
I've lost myself.
Now at seven in the morning I don't have a reason to roll out of bed to see the colors of the sun through my windows.
They remind me too much of what I so long to be.
All I see is her perfect sunlit hair coming in through my curtains that are the little green ties in her hair and they dance like her and are beautiful like her..
And I am not.
I want to be a child again.
Painting the colors of the sun and being inspired by them.
Being myself and now worrying if I am her.
I want to paint the right colors,
I miss the beautiful colors,
God, let me see them,
Please.
The colors.
I want to dance, but it is gone.
The colors of the sun.
The beautiful, beautiful colors.
Gone.
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