Los Angeles
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Rock’a My Baby 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
Follow me on IG: @punisherpapi South Central. Every day we running. Every day — looking to be. Becoming. But what are you becoming? Always remembering — sometimes we are not alone. Let me light this fag once more, tilt my head toward the stars, take a puff — let it swirl into the heavens. This story?… Continue reading
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The Hate of You 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
Follow me on IG: @punisherpapi To light another fag, to let the swirls of this smoke flow, flow through the streets of South Central. Ground control — the place where many don’t walk through to see. Today’s story? It’s that of a young woman in her twenties — she could be any girl. A woman… Continue reading
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“The One Thing I Wish I Had More Of”
What I wish I had more of every day is time. Time is the one commodity people rarely treat like a commodity. We give it away constantly — to work, to errands, to obligations, to other people — without realizing how valuable it actually is. Some people say taking time for yourself is selfish. I’ve… Continue reading
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“The Leash Is Gone”
No fireworks—just relief. After years of pressure, the loan is gone, and I’m finally building without that ankle weight. Continue reading
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“Liberation”
A school loan ballooned from $11,500 to $45,000—then came one phone call: “Your loan has been dismissed.” Continue reading
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“Triple 9s”
Depression can feel like a vice grip, but it lies. This is a reminder: you are your actions—rooting for my sister and for myself. Continue reading
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“A Van, a GameStop, and a Chai Tea”
A tired night after deliveries: low sales, 30 flyers, and a chai tea morale move—plus the quiet reason I keep writing from a van. Continue reading
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“The Bag World Flipped Overnight”
Paper bags flipped the whole business overnight—huge cases, a printer that only prints PDFs, and a day that turned into chaos. Still moved. Continue reading
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“Stop Calling Me a Collector”
When owning movies and games became “weird,” something got flattened—media, culture, and the way we feel things. Continue reading
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“Sam, the Armenian Zorro”
Sam runs a liquor store like family—quiet trust, real reverence for his mother, and a moment that made me think about my own mom’s love with hands. Continue reading