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Reading the title of this article, you probably think I’m talking about dead people, I’m not. I’m talking about the living, breathing people who affect our lives, make significant connections with us, and vanish into thin air without a trace. For no apparent reason (known to us at least).

This has become normalized as a well-known phrase called “ghosting”. It has become such a common occurrence in all of our lives, that we’ve all accepted it as a casual, routine behavior. Well, I am here to tell you it’s not.

It’s toxic

If that person you cut off did nothing to seriously…

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The light slowly shines into her bedroom. Dappled among thin linens. Barely making it through. She wants to feel something, anything. But nothing is there. Only the emptiness of what lies within. Not happy. Not sad. Not upset. Not angry. Not anything.

The fire escape is the farthest she goes to touch sunlight. But she doesn’t escape. Faint laughter and shrieks of children down below remind her of what it’s like to endure pain and joy. The nicotine slowly rises to her head. Relieving her from the dread of not feeling.

She wants to have a purpose, a reason to…

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In 2016, there were more than twice as many suicides in the U.S. (44,965) than there were homicides (19,362). Suicide was also the second leading cause of death between the ages of 10–34.*

I am 22 years old, going on 23 this May. I have lost four acquaintances and friends to suicide, and have had several friends with suicidal thoughts and attempts since I was in high school.

I have gone through a lot of ups and downs in my life, just like everyone else. I thought it was normal that I was having thoughts of not wanting to live…

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He walks in the door I feel a burst of electricity run through my veins. My hair pulled up in a high bun I don’t feel great. He sits by my side, tells me about his day, I tell him about mine. He tells me things will get better, and I am beautiful. His words so genuine, so true. Weeks go by, he says things that hurt and bother me. I try my best to ignore but I can’t. I finally tell him how I feel. He looks at me as if poison is spilling from my tongue. He is…

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Photo: Luiz Claudio |

Cold fingertips, cracked hands.

A sudden burst of energy pulsed through sweat glands.

The void within him was unexpectedly filled.

And breaking the pattern left him lustfully thrilled.

He began to fall in love with her clarity and grace.

How the shadows at dusk played upon her face.

And the way her eyes glistened like the gaseous stars in space.

Upon his realization, she said, “Come on, let’s get outta this place”.

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Since she was three feet tall, she was told what she should be like

How she should act.

Pigtails swaying in the wind, a school girl facade.

Made of sugar and spice

Always sweet, always kind.

Never speak when you’re not spoken to.

Be quiet, be reserved.

Always, always smile

Even when you don’t feel like it.

Don’t take up too much space

Always move out of the way.

Now she’s grown into her body

Being pushed and pulled and told

What to do and how to act for twenty years.

This isn’t it.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to…

I remember to forget. So I can forget to remember the warmth of the memories we shared. The car ride home when we blasted Paramore on the interstate. The windows…

Warm sun fades from a building facade.
Sometimes the best moments in life are flawed.
Light grows shorter as darkness lurks from behind.
Crisp air fills the atmosphere, giving the city a peace of mind.

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Sage Lucero

A writer, not a fighter. Words are my weapon.

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