2023 EHS Literary & Artistic Magazine

Literary&ArtisticMagazine

Dedication

In loving memory for all we ' ve lost.

DearEHSCommunity,

Imagine playing with a kaleidoscope as a child. At first glance, the cylindrical shape of the tube seems simplistic, but you continue to inspect it carefully As you bring the kaleidoscope to your eyes, you find an assortment of vibrant colors and fractals. Even though you are captured by the intricate design, you are still surprised by the sudden movement of the design. As you move, the images evolve into a new complex pattern within an existing preset of colors

We, the editorial staff, believe that the emotions felt during the 2022-2023 school year were much like a kaleidoscope Through varied and ever-changing emotions, we processed the tragic events that happened to our community. Through grief and sadness, we found our own ways to cope with what was overwhelming our community.

For some, they found their comfort in interacting with loved ones. Others found their comfort by creating something with their hands. Even though we found comfort in many different ways, the emotions we felt were like the fractals found in the kaleidoscope At first glance, these raw emoticons were chaotic But as we combine the emotions we share as a community together, it creates an intricate form of collectiveness among us. This year’s magazine comprises pieces of work that may range from grief to acceptance

As you flip through the pages of this year ' s edition of the Literary and Artistic Magazine, we hope that at least one of the creative works done by your peers will resonate with you This year, we wanted the creative works to speak for themselves instead of the graphic designs. But you will find the red string of fate incorporated into each page to convey the collectiveness we felt as a community. All in all, each creative work has a story to tell and emotions to convey.

This year ' s journey has been special for us all. We, the editorial staff, hope that these pieces of creative work will provide comfort and inspiration as we embark on the next steps of our life Thank you for staying strong and continuing to persevere.

Yours Truly, Crystal

Li

Everything

by Meagan Smith

I have a galaxy resting in my heart Full of everything, everything, Everything. It slips and spills out the edges sometimes, All the everything, everything Everything. It overflows it overtakes, everything everything Everything

My back to the floor it overcomes me, All the everything, Seas full of stars lapping at the walls All the Everything. How do I put Everything back? Keep Everything in my heart? I can't swim in this ocean, This ocean full of everything.

by Erik Lopez

TheAppleTree

by Sam Davenport

As I sit under the apple tree, I think: Life is a tornado, everything seems fine Then suddenly, clouds and storms come Happiness, a distant memory

That night, I cried in your arms And you cried in mine The thought of you hurts my brain I wish I had the courage to accept it

But that night, through all the sorrow You reassured me that no matter what happened Nothing could separate us That you’d always be in my heart

I know you never wanted it And neither did I You’re a piece in my puzzle The puzzle of life

In your last few moments, you smiled through the pain Sending a silent message to me That everything would be fine That I should have joy instead of woe

When I think of all the memories

The times you made me laugh, and the times we shared grief

My brain is flooded with contrasting emotions

A kaleidoscope of both hope and fear

But then I again remember your smile And as I look in the distance I notice the clouds starting to clear The tornado slowly dissipating

As I see the beautiful mountains, lush with trees The flowers, bright with cool hues And the grass I sit on, a vibrant green I am filled with peace and content

Now, as I sit under the apple tree, I remember all the wonderful times we had Then suddenly, I remember your smile And pain becomes a distant memory

by Karsyn Schmidt

I'llNeverUnderstand

I’ll never be the one to lead you to the promised land.

I’ll never be able to play you the hopeful keys on a baby grand.

I wish I could wear my emotions like an armband but the world reprimanded me when I reached out my hand.

You. I see the tear stains branded on your cheeks, I see the scars spread across your wrists.

Are you the beautiful flower choking on the thorns?

I have the power to shield you from the metal bullets, but why can’t I do more?

Why is my tongue paralyzed? Why can’t I empathize?

Photo by Chase Hutton, Poem by Isabella Nocon

I’ll never understand

I think of the words I want to say but then they die by the light of day. Like pebbles in a stream, they struggle to hastily roll across my tell-tale tongue. The last breaths of air retreat from my leather lungs as I imagine all the ways you are dealing with the pain.

That pain that eats you alive in the dead of night. The pain that’s so apparent.

I don’t need stage lights to see the face that others call “alright ” The pain that lingers with you no matter how many chains you choke around it.

I see it in your eyes when you assure me of those well-thought-out lies. Your lies compel me to let my impotent imagination run wild with “what ifs”

What if her mom isn’t ok

What if you stop believing this is just like the metaphors we use to read in the bookstore?

Why can’t you tell me more?!

What if she’s already rested her palm in death’s hand?

I can’t imagine what happens when the wolf finally corners the lamb. What if you can’t brush this burden off your shoulders?

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if you can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror because all you see is her? Her in the hospital bed.

You in the leather chair beside her.

I see you I see you right now

You have nobody to stroke your hair for you, nobody to tell you to breathe. Why can’t you just leave?

I remember the mother you once had who lovingly patched up your silver sores. But now all I see is the mother mercilessly scrambling for the lock as death approaches the door.

I may feel like I’m experiencing your heartache first-hand, but the truth is, I’m in the nosebleeds.

And I will never understand

Human

By Meron Zeleke

I used to revel in the simple joy of being human.

I used to watch the day unfurl and watch the pinks, blues, and oranges shoot across the skies.

I used to breathe in the fresh dew of the morning, feeling my lungs yawn open, then rest, and yawn open again.

I used to listen to the soft song of night that lingers along with the charming birds and walking creatures of the sun.

I used to feel the gentle breeze spill through my window, and brush over my skin pressing peace into my bones.

I used to revel in the simple joy of living.

I used to have sweet teas and harmonies and bittersweet goodbyes; basking in a summer moonrise, and settling in beneath the stars.

I used to harbor a soul within my chest, and called this body my home I used to walk upon Mother-Earth as one of her own, and drink in all of her wonders.

IDon'tBelieveI'mUnlovable

By Bianca Patten

I don’t believe I’m unlovable But I’m not someone worth loving for a lifetime We would stay up late Reveling in the way we found each other Across galaxies and lifetimes

Promising soulmates. Because every path to forgiveness would lead home.

we started like stars burning fiercely and no one knew we were done for until lightyears later. but did you ever feel the supernova? The everlasting love that still somehow lived on and simply just changed shape? or did your heart become a black hole that tore up all our memories?

was it truly me you wanted or was it my constellation my rough outline and first impression that made you fall in love? did you truly want the galaxies I gifted you or were the stars the only thing you needed? you took the brightest parts of me and held me up on a pedestal in the universe only for the vast space you longed for to consume what used to be

I don’t believe I’m unlovable But i’m not someone worth loving for a lifetime. Now i stay up late reveling in the way we lost each other across galaxies and lifetimes forgotten soulmates. Because even paths to forgiveness have their dead ends

by Gael Bernal Vargas

TheBleedingPeople

by Alexander Greene

The bleeding people

The endless unconnected connectedness

The bleeding people

Given the tools to bleed

But denied the ability to scab

These - these bleeding people

Given all they could ever need

But still craving more

These bleeding people

Torn to shreds from the inside out

But still somehow kept intact

The bleeding people, as a matter of fact

Have flooded their brain but deprived it of its oceans

They have taken every atrocity and dipped it in vain

Every emotion now jampacked with an underlying after-taste of pain

Using their fluids to put themselves into emotional ruins

Or influence your choice to pay for a higher priced insurance

The bleeding people

Loaded with so much new that the old never knew what to do

Over saturated with overtones of blue

The splitting of flesh always stuck to them like glue

The bleeding people

We, the bleeding people

Yes we have blood on our hands

But what's the matter if you ' ve met all our demands?

As it stands the bleeding people have Rewritten the social norms of right and wrong

And we as the people who have bled

Shall never be led astray

For in this society that may cause dismay

We still have our bloody morals

Even if they're scattered in disarray

We the bleeding people have never let intuition stand in our bloody way

By Marco Pazmino

By Chase Hutton

By Cyrus Banner

InVietnam,The...

By Linh Le

In Vietnam, the fragrant smell of sizzling thịt nướng fills the air of the night market.

Here, a chemical stench clings to my mama’s clothes

Of polish and alcohol

As she spends her life hunching, shaping a coffin nail

And the acetone smell curls like smoke like trembling fingers Cusps her head her face takes her breath fills that salon she works–I hear that smell can kill you

In Vietnam, milky plum blossoms fall, like snow, in the springtime

Here, the chalky, ash-like skin falling dead from strangers’ feet are her plum blossoms

She scrubs and scrubs And paints these flowers On strangers’ toenails

The cost of degradation Is called a thirty dollar pedicure

In Vietnam, the full moon smiles with crater dimples over the crimson lanterns of Tết New Year

Here, the moon has never looked so lonely Hanging–In a starless sky

Twinkling–

Just like eyes

Full of tears

They weep for the lonely soul

Cradling red paper lanterns

Around no family no home

They weep for a life forfeited

A life renounced for another to flourish

Who is she to make such a sacrifice?

What for? What for?

The trade of her family her happiness her youth her life

Whom for?

In Vietnam, we say ‘con yêu mẹ. ’

I love you.

I haven’t told her in a long time Because I think if I do, I am a liar

I could never love her like she loves me

And I can never tell her With words she has given me But can never understand

I hope that in another life She’s back at home Her wrinkles from smiling, not stress Young and content and carefree

Even if in that life she never had me

by Connor Tierney

by Rinoa Valdez

MyOldFriend

By Zoe Horne

He tried.

He was weird. He made mistakes. He wasn’t like the others

He was not a dime a dozen. He was not wrong, just different. He was curious and easily distracted He wanted to help anyone and everyone. He was more than what people told him he was. He missed the people who left him.

He was misunderstood He was my friend. He will always be my friend.

He is too busy to spend all his time with me anymore

I’m happy for him, but I miss him and I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him.

“Want to meet up for lunch today?”

I guess he missed his old friend too.

by Elliot Suttman

BeatenandBruised

By Isabella Nocon

I was once a worried wanderer.

I was beaten and bruised, banished for every word that I said

You saw right through me. You forced me to conform

“I was too drastic,” you said.

“I was too different, too daring, too declaring, too much of a red herring.”

“Too benevolent, too boundless, too benign” “Back in line!” you yelled.

Bounding my wrists together, you spat in my face, preaching about the pleasantries of obeying.

And yet, you still saw the flicker in my eyes, daring you to devise my demise.

And so you broke the spirit from my spent soul, you drained the oxygen from my weary lungs and ripped

the words from my distressed jaw

Once a spark now a salted wound, once a heart now a void vulnerable to your vile words.

Kicked to the curb, concrete cut across my palm, I didn’t believe I was wrong, yet why was I so far gone?

You’ve been the archer, you’ve been the prey, but now you are the predator Your fingers curled tightly around the knife as it loomed over my next-tonothing life.

And just as I let the darkness engulf every last bit of me you dropped the knife

I looked up and there you were staring down at me, eyes that once saw right through me filled with pools of liquid

The knife, vacant from your shaking hand. I knew right then this was not what you had planned. You brushed the dust and blood from my cheeks

I was weak and so you helped me to my feet and walked me across the street. You took me in with open arms and a gracious smile, you showed me how to be brave

How to resist the cave of shame because I knew my words had the power to spread like a flame.

My spirit bandaged, restored, my wounds mended my heart open.

You once were beaten and bruised like me and so you locked away the parts you didn’t want others to see.

But in my moments of agony, you saw the catastrophe of who you became A person you couldn’t dare to call by your own name.

Fellow dreamers, this world will beat you and bruise you with your back up against the chain-linked fence, hence why so many are worried wanderers. But I beg you, hunt for humanity, maintain your

morality, sing the melody of your enemy, for there is unity in community.

by Chloe Rodocker

Kaleidoscope

By Ty Campbell

Katya could barely breathe. But she couldn’t stop. If she did, that...thing would get her. So she kept going. Ignoring her body’s every urge to tell her to stop, she kept going, adrenaline fueling her survival

She raced across the broken landscape. Everything around her was shifting like a mess of paint and light. Trees of every shade of color distorted themselves. The Light Realm was an inverted form of the world she knew The familiar streets and landscape around her was an off color, constantly warping itself into a new shade of blue, red, green, yellow, purple, and everything in between. Katya didn’t even remember how she got to this crazy place All she knew was that if she failed, everything would be consumed by darkness.

Katya ran with awkward form; she was clutching a large, dark book with ancient runes on the cover. It was bigger and weighed more than any textbook she’d ever had from school If that monster got it, that would be the end of the Light Realm.

The Monster roared mere meters behind, snapping its fangs at her. Her diaphragm wouldn’t allow her to scream. So she frantically kept going, crying freely from terror Her tears washed all the colors together so she could barely see a few feet ahead of her. At one point she lost her balance and tripped over her own legs in a clearing in the rainbow forest She landed hard and dropped the book As much as she wanted to lay down and accept her fate, her body would not be killed this easily. She fumbled desperately for something in her skirt pocket. The Monster was getting closer.

Finally, she drew out a green mechanical pencil The Monster was within striking distance. It was a horrible thing. It was the color black and had no form, and its body contorted and folded itself into different shapes. It had no eyes, but it seemed to smell Katya. Its mouth had several rows of sharp, ivory teeth Her arms and legs went stiff with fear. Katya clumsily pointed her pencil at the Monster and

clicked it once A long cord made of pencil lead shot out of it and impaled the Monster. She clicked it again and snapped it back in place. Katya kept beating the Monster back with every ounce of her fury. But it kept coming despite the punishment she gave it.

Katya grabbed the book and scuttled backwards The thing kept advancing on her. If only I had a pen! she thought. Each blow from her pencil caused pain to the Monster, but it kept pressing despite that. Desperate, she reached back into the folds of her memory and used a simple binding spell. A ring surrounded the Monster and prevented its advance. It was already breaking free.

Katya knew she only had a few seconds left. After that, it would be over for her Then she looked at the book she was holding If there was another option she would have taken it, but there was no other way. She would have to deal with the repercussions later.

She flipped to a specific page in the middle of the book. The pages were dyed black, and the text was written in blood Katya ripped out the page and stuffed it in her mouth. Her esophagus burned as the words flowed into her body. Her eyes turned black.

The Monster finally broke free of the prison It rushed towards her with its might, but Katya was prepared. She summoned eight daggers and thrust them into the apparition's body. It stopped dead.

The cloud of vapor surrounding the Monster disappeared, and all that was left was a body bearing eight stab wounds Blood the color of black ink oozed out. It was male and had dark brown hair like Katya's. She knelt down next to the boy, who looked up at her with dying eyes. She couldn’t stop the tears from gushing out of her black eyes and onto the body

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I had to.” She choked out tears of grief and agony. “I love you!” she screamed.

The boy looked up at Katya “Save your breath, sister ” He paused and coughed. “I hate you,” he spat. The boy then stopped breathing and his eyes went cold and dead. Katya felt hollow inside, and couldn’t find a way to stop the tears from spilling out.

by Chloe Rodocker

By Marco Pazmino

By Ty Phipps

SightLines

By Sarah Nance

I know the right side of my mother’s face better than any other part of her.

How soft lamplight brightened her cheek

How the 40-something lines tendered when she sat in her chair.

The perfect silhouette started with her right side: And her crossed-over, right foot kicked methodically at nothing…

At a dream, a magazine, An unfinished book she wrote Two finished books she once read An old friend in a red car Trips to Spain she’d never take A child she never had A secret she never told A missed appointment again A pill she forgot to take A field trip for to me to take A grocery list to fulfill A good life with someone else The first tear slid down her cheek Dissolving into a crease And she knew I saw it too.

It was always the right side of her face that answered me first Paused, ripped away from the dream, momentarily, she would turn to find me:

When are you coming back? I asked.

I’m right here. She answered.

I know the right side of my mother’s face better than any part of her face

But it is only a part of her. And I wish I knew the rest.

Photo by Abigail Jones

ColorReturns

By Zoe Horne

Everyone has a mist; a unique pattern full of different colors that interact with the world around them. Each color says something about the person. I can only see it in person As a child I would tell people about what I saw Everyone would dismiss me and tell me to stop being crazy. As I got older it got worse until it just stopped affecting me. I remember when I first realized that I didn’t care It was a few years ago, when my mom died; I wasn’t sad, I didn’t even care. My family called me insane, but the words didn’t hurt.

I watch horror movies and I am no longer scared. I don’t know when I stopped feeling. I don’t remember the last time I cared. I have no idea when I last cried. A smile has not crossed my lips in years The color has been drained from me, but others still cling to it. I don’t really understand why.

All the colors did were hurt me. No longer feeling the colors is the best thing that ever happened to me.

The fiery pain of red and orange eating at me from the inside as I refuse to let it burn someone else. The overwhelming blues that drew tears from my eyes. The greens that make me regret and re-think. The ugly browns that stain all they touch. The sweet yellows that hug me and make me feel safe The purples that feel amazing, but always go away with the person that brought them into my life. I’m glad they’re all gone, even the amazing yellows and purples that were rarely in my life.

All the colors in the world weren’t worth all the blue

The blue blinded my life. Every part of my pattern seeped with blue and leaked into the world around me. I made everything blue. My family, my friends, my loved ones, my pets, the plants I walked by, strangers, everything alive suffered the effects of blue because of me I’m glad it’s gone I’m glad I can’t feel it

I’m so happ- I’m not happy. Happy is what other people call yellow. There is no yellow in me, just like there is no blue, but I am glad there is no color in my life I sit in my colorless house or in my colorless office and work day in and day out.

After I stopped feeling the colors, they started running from me. Everywhere I go, everything I touch, they dull. The places I frequent have no color left. No blue, no yellow, no green, no purple, no red The people that come into my life lose their color too, and once they realize it they run.

They love their color, but I don’t understand why.

Why would people cling to the blue?

Why would people cling to the green?

Why would people want the browns?

Why would they keep the bad colors?

What possible reason could they have to want all-...All the colors. The world is not just blue, it is full of a million shades of a million colors. No color is bad, they are just colors.

I can use the colors!I can mix the blues and reds into the lovely purple that never stays for long. I won’t ignore the colors I don’t like, I will feel them and then they will mix with the other hurtful colors and turn into a tapestry, a masterpiece woven from my pain! They will still hurt, but it will be worth it if I can feel the yellow again

How do I bring the colors back? How can I feel again?

I look around the colorless room I have lived in for so long. It feels like the air is being sucked out of the room as the colors were

I-I can’t breathe in here.

I have to get out of here.

My feet carry me out the door and they keep going. I start running. The air rushing across my face feels so nice

The beautiful colors of the world back with all the beauty I forgot existed. The feeling of running brings yellow back.

The last time I ran like this was before Mom got sick. I was a senior in high school and in track I got first place in a meet and I was so happy I loved to run I would run whenever I could, until I didn’t have time anymore.

When Mom got sick, Dad left. He left me to take care of her alone. I managed to finish high school before getting a full-time job to pay for all the things she needed. I spent every day working, so she could go back home, and leave that ugly white hospital that she hated, but she just kept getting worse and worse. Just another reason for me to hate the colorless world I live in, as she did.

I fought with her for years before she decided she had had enough I tried to talk her out of it, but she told me she wanted me to go to college. I started taking night school and she promised she would be there to see me graduate.

She promised.

The yellow is replaced by an overbearing blue

She wasn’t there. I went back home to find her dead.

They all thought it was my fault, but none of them helped. None of them tried to convince her to stay alive None of them saw the way she was suffering None of them went through what I did.

My father even had the gall to tell me he’s sorry he left!

He showed up to the funeral with his new wife and told me how he never wanted to leave me, but that my mom was the problem

Red blinds me and I keep running.

I didn’t tell him off, I didn’t apologize, I just left him there and said nothing.

I planned the funeral, I paid for it. I picked out her casket. I did everything right and all I got was blue

The red intensifies.

I stopped telling people what I saw once they told me to. I took care of them. I did the right things and helped everyone and all I got was hurt!

Mom’s death was just the last thing it took!

My mind shut out the pain, so I could deal with all the immediate problems and I never let it in. I never let anything in; that’s why I’m alone.

The red fades to purple.

People let me in They loved me, and I pushed them away

Back to blue.

My feet keep pounding on the ground as tears start to stream down my face. I miss them so much! Why did they have to leave? Why did I have to make them leave; because I was afraid they wouldn’t stay?

I’m an idiot.

I’ll apologize to them all.

The blue starts to fade to green

I’ll make it up to them!

It’s yellow now.

I can fix my life if I bring all the colors back!

My feet come to a stop at a place I did not mean to go

I am standing in front of a grave.

This is a place I haven’t been since the day of the funeral. This is where Mom’s body lays; right here under my feet

The world fills with blue as I stare at the final resting place of my mother.

The last time I saw her alive rushes back to me; it was the morning before graduation and she assured me she’d be fine getting there by herself, "I’ll be fine sweetie,” she said with a smile full of all the yellow in the world, “I’m not going to die when I’m so close to seeing what I’ve been staying alive for!”

The world blurs as I remember that day.

Going home to a quiet house filled with anxiety.

Seeing the body

Watching the color drain away from the world as it drained from her once rosy cheeks.

Calling the police

So many people, all so fast. No time to think, I just had to take care of the funeral.

Then my own family blamed me and the color left forever. Blue is all that’s left in the world as I finally feel all of it

All the rest of the day, people walking by see a girl sobbing at her mother's grave on the 4 year anniversary of her death.

by Ayden Coon

TheLightofHope

By Diego Lopez

Looking at the horizon

Overlooking everything, as the sunlight dies and the darkness begins to conquer the blue skies. We are left in the dark

As we try to find our way back We are struggling through these troubling events to find our way home Our attempts are fruitless. We keep failing

As the darkness spreads throughout the sky

We trip, and fumble and mumble and ask, why do we even try? With nothing guiding us back, we think of going into hiding

After all, we are never going to find our way back. All seems lost in our attempts to make it home. But then…

A light is ignited

A flame that we tamed or a wire that makes electricity isn't what we need in dire times.

It’s better than a lightbulb above our head

It is the light of hope

This is a light that is always shining

A light that can never be extinguished.

When everyone else is in the dark and lost

There is always someone who is a guiding light

So when you feel lost in what we would call a dark world, and when others are lost, Be their light of hope

Be the one to help those fight through the might of the dark

Be a beacon of change

Be a light of hope

by Erik Lopez

Sunsets

By Sparrow Mark

This short story contains descriptions of suicide and depression The characters in this story are fictional, but that doesn't make the feelings any less real. We advise reader discretion while reading.

I remembered how I would watch as she smiled so sweetly every time we watched the sunrise, but the truth is, I never needed the sun to rise in my life. I just wish that she knew she was the reason it was always so bright outside, regardless of what the source of light was. They say “there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel,” and she was mine. Even during difficult times, she has never failed to make me laugh Something as simple as her presence always ended up making my day, no matter how awful I felt.

She always seemed so happy whenever we were together, and it made me happy to know that she enjoyed the moments we shared with each other. Ironically, I’d say that she was as if the color yellow was a person, but she was streaks of red and orange and pink painted over a big blue sky too. She was a never-ending canvas full of beautiful sceneries that flourished with color fields packed with flowers, trees overflowing with leaves, clouds swaying across the gentle skies and every one of them was almost as if they were from a dream. Every scenery was different, but paintings of the fall season would perfectly describe how I felt about her Fall has always been my favorite time of the year because it has a sense of security and warmth in the homely smell of it. I started associating her to it because she made me feel that way too Home isn’t always a place Home can be a person, and something about her always made me feel like I belonged. While seasons and feelings may come and go, they were eternal for as long as we were together.

Sienna was so much more than simply a color. She was everything to me.

Every year, I used to take her to the boardwalk next to the ocean for the annual fair, but this was my most memorable trip. We went on the most thrilling rides and won loads of prizes from games like ring toss and skeeball. When we finished trying almost everything in the fair, we bought a massive cone of ice cream Each scoop was a different flavor, and we shared it as we rode the ferris wheel. The glimpse of all the colorful lights and the view of the illuminated city in the near distance was one of the most breathtaking experiences I’ve ever had Even our long walk back to my car was delightful, and we stopped to admire the gleaming ocean. We raced down to the shore and danced under the moonlight, kicking the water beneath our feet as we laughed. I never wanted that night to end.

After I dropped her off at her house, I drove back to my own to settle down for the night. It was truly the most peaceful drive I’ve ever been on. There were barely any people on the highway, and it had begun to sprinkle from the cloudy night sky I smiled to myself the entire 45 minutes back to my place, listening to Sienna’s favorite songs on repeat. I convinced myself that my life was just too good to be true, and it was, because little did I know that leaving her alone that night would have been my biggest mistake

If I could turn back time, I would’ve warned myself that when I woke up the next day, the sun wouldn’t be there anymore.

It really felt like time had suddenly stopped that cold, dark morning Well, time always stopped when I thought about Sienna, but this time, it wasn’t because I fantasized about all the things we could do and all the places we could see. It was a feeling of pure emptiness. I just couldn’t live in the moment if she wasn't in it with me anymore

The once surrealistic and vibrant painting will never be finished. It will never be varnished and displayed for an audience to admire It will simply never be complete no matter how full it can become, and neither will our lives because she decided it was best to take her own. Everything seemed perfectly normal the night before, but I guess I was terribly mistaken.

When I eagerly checked my phone, expecting a good morning text from Sienna, I was confused to find a very long message from her instead. The more I read, the more panicked I became This was all just a joke, right? It has to be.

The peaceful drive I had the night before soon turned into the longest and most dreadful When I arrived at her place again, I banged on her door and begged her to come out. I honestly don’t know why I assumed she would answer. A few minutes of silence passed, and I decided to unlock the door myself I’ve always had a key, but I never thought I would’ve needed to use it until that day.

I searched frantically for Sienna, losing more and more hope every time I left an empty room My heart was pounding so loudly that it felt like I was in a horror movie where the feeling of suspense would uncover something gruesome. I could feel my body growing heavier and weaker with each step I took, trying to resist what was inevitable for me to find. It was only a matter of minutes before I saw her fingers, splattered in blood, through the crack of the bathroom door upstairs.

Nothing would’ve been able to prepare me for what I discovered, even if I knew what it would be. I was aghast to find that she was as still as a picture a picture I wish I never did see. It was as if each memory in the camera recording our lives was suddenly tinted with red.

Even if she was always a joy to be around in my eyes, it seems I’ve failed to see the agony she was truly in Unknowing of the reason she felt she had to leave, I just couldn’t bring myself to try and understand why. While I’ve always tried to be understanding and patient, I was too distraught, yet furious, to even begin to question her reasoning And regardless of what I did to cope, I took her suicide very personally. I fought an internal battle with myself for years, and nothing seemed to convince me that I could not have done anything to prevent it.

Every somber day after that, I had endless thoughts and questions that felt like bullets going through my head.

I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about it

I had no idea.

Nothing has been the same since you left me.

Why did you have to go?

Are you satisfied?

But now I realize that there’s really no point in searching for an answer anymore, because in the end, do I really want to know?

The amount of regret and guilt I felt is still unbearable to this day. Nothing has gotten better since she left I still have no one to love, and I still don’t have anyone to love me. I’m aware that it’s entirely my fault, but Sienna is just irreplaceable. It feels disrespectful to make her share what we once had with someone else, even if she’s gone. I’m not sure how much longer I want to go without her I mean, any average person would’ve already moved on by now, right?

Today is the first day of fall one of the few first days of fall I’ve spent without Sienna And for the past few years during this dreadful period, I’d spend every night with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling for hours as I sank into my bed. The air around me feels so cold this time of year, and the environment always makes me feel as if I’m drowning I can't help but think about how everything seems to fade away. Every leaf flutters away from its tree and crumbles to the ground at some point. What once was the season of warmth was now just a cruel reminder that nothing lasts forever.

By Connor Tierney

By Manzi Venter

By Jaxson Brumage