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Rated: ASR · Prose · Philosophy · #2243666
a prose piece that describes what color I am as of this moment.
I am yellow. Like Van Gogh, I see my own suffering. I see others through a lens of pain. Though yellow is a gift from the Sun that nourishes, helps us to grow. In the eyes of some, it hurts. We see the world through a filter that lets us see others' pain. We have empathy, while we crave our own resurrection from the box that keeps us from feeling and loving. We need others. Our arms reach out and we scream for understanding and for the walls to fall. Yellow is the color of psychotropic drugs that we need to survive, despite our need for the more important vitamins that the Sun wants to give us. Yellow is a color of confusion but also love.
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