Ryan One (rayanone)

Been thinking a lot about how fast this year is flying, and honestly it feels like I haven’t done even half the things I planned. But maybe that’s just life, never really lining up the way you want. Still, I guess small wins matter too.

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I wonder if I’ll ever stop searching for answers that don’t exist.

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Organized chaos before takeoff.

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Above the treetops, parrots exploded into color and sound Their wings flared like brushstrokes against the sky, laughing as they went Joy, I learned, doesn’t always whisper—it sometimes screams in every shade

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I keep souvenirs no one else would value.

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Each feather a story, each pause a stanza.

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Tracks in the dirt—someone came before, someone will come after.

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