Our lives are made up of an infinite number of moments, stories, and connections. We are constantly evolving, ever rising and falling. We dare to explore new parts of ourselves or sink deeper into those in which we already know. We launch ourselves into the unknown or choose to stay in the comfort of the shadows forever. This choice---this freedom---is what makes us human. We get to choose the person we want to be each day, and that is our greatest gift. In our twelfth edition, we illustrate the euphoric states and complicated undertones of what it means to feel. Each shoot depicts a raw emotion and a new perspective, building in intensity with every turn of the page. Join us as we explore ourselves and spiral into disorder. This chaos sets us free. This chaos is where we feel most connected. Allow yourself to welcome this feeling of connection within chaos as we present Entropy.
SUSANNAH CASE FASHION BOARD PRESIDENT
Almost four years ago, I stepped onto campus as a brand-new freshman, completely overwhelmed by the idea of being just one person in the massive sea of a four-year university. Like so many others, I felt lost— just one in a crowd of 20,000. But that changed as I walked into the Fashion Board interest meeting. I had no idea then how much it would shape me, or more importantly, how much the 200 students who make up this board would.
Wednesday nights became the best night of the week, a space where creativity thrived and friendships grew. As each show approached, I knew something special was about to happen—something bigger than all of us, yet made possible by every single person involved. Year after year, I’ve watched new members step in, find their place, and bring fresh ideas to life. That’s the magic of Fashion Board: it turns a group of students into a team, a vision into a reality, and a university that once felt overwhelming into a place that feels like home.
The truth is, the magic has never been about the shows, or the clothes, or the magazine—it’s about the people. It’s about each of you who show up, who create, who pour your heart into the art. Without you, that magic wouldn’t exist.
Looking back, I know now that the reason I felt so lost in my first month at Mississippi State was simply because I hadn’t yet found Fashion Board. And now, as I step away from my role and into the audience, I can’t wait to watch the magic continue.
Keep being the magic,
President Susannah Case
MEG KARNER
ÊTRE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
I will be forever grateful for all that Être and this team has given me over the past four years. Seeing the special creativity that each former Editor in Chief has brought to this magazine has made me thankful for the opportunity to fulfill this role. I was a scared freshman searching for an outlet when Être allowed me to fit in perfectly. The late-night brainstorms, crazy ideas, and Wednesday nights are memories that I will cherish long after these four years. Each individual involved in this publication has a unique light that shines on what we create so well. I have been encouraged, uplifted, and inspired by all of this team.
This edition is full of love, both chaotic and connecting. Every member was challenged to push themselves farther, and that’s what they did. There is so much joy in seeing how every spread interprets the theme so distinctively.
This magazine would not be possible without the stylists, graphic designers, photographers, writers, and social media team. They have worked tirelessly to create something we are all so proud of. We had a vision at the beginning that is so beautifully portrayed in these pages. Throughout this year, I wanted to create a space where students in a small town in Mississippi could showcase their ideas and talent to the world. I know that Être has given that to me!
Please enjoy this trip through entropy, may it bring you chaos and connection!
Meg Karner
SARAH SMOTHERS
ÊTRE CREATIVE DIRECTOR
When I came to this school as a fashion design major, I struggled to find my place for two years. I needed an outlet for my creative ideas outside of projects, and I needed strong people beside me to help those ideas come to fruition.
Junior year, I tried out for Être for the first time, after following the magazine since my senior year of high school. To my absolute elation, I made the team as a stylist. It was my dream since high school, and I wanted to be the best I could be at being a stylist, alongside girls I have known since freshman year. At my first solo shoot ever, I was nervous leading up to it. Not knowing if I had what it took. “Am I going to miss the mark?” was in my mind, but the people who worked alongside me encouraged, supported, and lifted my ideas I had from the depths of my mind. When the photos came out, I will never forget the feeling of being so in love with something I created from my mind, with others, and feeling the love of teamwork. Because at its essence, that is what Être is: teamwork from many different creative minds.
Être has helped me become the most me I have ever felt. The people beside me have inspired me in ways that won’t fit on this page. They have believed in my ability to make my ideas come alive on the page. They have believed in my ability to be their Creative Director. It has been my greatest honor.
I am so proud of every single person featured in this magazine, and their ability to showcase their individual talents. Watching the magazine come to life from bullet points on a theme, to shoots crafted by so many hands, to graphics threading it all together; it’s a feeling like no other. Être, I will love you forever and a day.
Signing off, Sarah
Smothers
LEAH WISENER ÊTRE
HEAD OF GRAPHICS
After two years of adjusting to college life, I wanted to keep pushing myself to try new things, so I applied to join Être. Être is filled with extremely talented and creative people, and I was a little intimidated at first. It wasn’t until Jill, the previous art director, asked me to take over her role that I truly felt a part of this group.
Serving in a leadership position was always a distant college goal of mine, but it always seemed a little too far-flung. But the fact that Jill could see potential in me as a leader and designer gave me all the motivation I needed to step into my fear.
I will always be grateful for my time in Être and this role. Being able to work with such passionate, generous people is such a gift. And I am so lucky I get to be the last person who works on this magazine and see all the hard work, energy, and love that went into it before everyone else does.
Most of the credit goes to my perfect little design team, Cate, Emily, and Lucy. I know that each of you will continue to succeed in whatever you do, and you should be very proud of what you accomplished.
And the biggest thanks goes to Meg, who trusted me completely. Without your wonderful leadership and friendly acceptance, none of this would be possible.
Fittingly, the creation of the magazine was filled with chaos, but more importantly, connection. Connection between committees, friends, and strangers. While you read, I hope you can find a connection to something bigger than yourself, just like I did.
With love for the present and hope for the future, Leah Wisener
MEET THE TEAM ÊTRE
24’–25’
ANNA ROSS CARMICHAEL Social Media
EMMA FRAYSER Stylist
KARLEY WOODS
Photography
MARIGNY HAILEY Social Media
ASHLAN BALLARD Writing
EMMA HARDY Writing
KATIE GARCIA Head of Writing
CAMILLE BULLOCK Writing
FAITH WILLIAMS Stylist
KATIE ROSE MILLER
Stylist
MARY VIRGINIA MILLER Writing MAY EKUNWE
Social Media
CATE SIMMONS Graphics
GABRIELLE BRIDGES Stylist
LARA UNDERWOOD Lead Stylist
KARNER Editor in Chief
DAHNIA BELL Photography
HARPER EVERS Head of Photography
LAUREN RESMONDO Stylist
DEVIN DUNCAN Social Media
JORDAN JACKSON Head of Social Media
LEAH WISENER Head of Graphics
LEE Stylist
PATRICK Writing
LUCY WALTERS Graphics
LOVELESS Graphics
Stylist
HAWKINS Stylist
Photography
HOWELL Writing
SMOTHERS Creative Director
DEVYN
EMILY
JULIA
KAIT JOHNSON
RILEY
SARAH
MEG
MARIAMA
TAYLOR SULLIVAN Photography
NYIAH LANDFAIR
TECHNO LOGICAL
It was so easy being a kid. The world felt like it stretched endlessly, full of a million tiny adventures waiting to be discovered. The backyard held mysteries in every patch of dirt. Afternoons meant swinging high enough to touch the sky, wind whipping through tangled hair, feeling INFINITE.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Sarah Smothers
Photographer: Karley Woods
Model: Lara Underwood, Cari Rhett
Writer: Julia Patrick
Makeup: Nevarn Josan
Designer: Lucy Walters
Sleepovers were a sacred ritual. The night full of secrets whispered into the dim glow of a nightlight. Moonlight spilled through a crack in the blinds, pooling onto the floor, illuminating our hushed giggles as we confessed our crushes and wildest dreams. Nothing existed beyond those four walls but our shared laughter and fleeting INNOCENCE . Problems that once felt colossal—who got to sit in the front seat, the sting of a scraped knee, the injustice of bedtime. When life was about chasing fireflies and digging up roly-polies, about getting lost in make-believe without a thought of capturing it for anyone else to see.
But now, it seems like nothing is real unless it’s documented. Every sunset, every plate of food, every moment that should be just for us reduced to a fleeting blip on a never-ending scroll. Kids don’t run barefoot through the grass anymore; their hands grip screens instead of handlebars, their laughter replaced with the dull hum of notifications. They don’t giggle the same way we did. They are so disconnected from one another. They have no clue what they are missing.
It’s not just the kids. Everywhere, people are more comfortable behind a screen than with each other. Headphones in, eyes averted, voices reduced to texts. Creativity, something that is so deeply human, is now being created by a machine. Where does it leave us?
When a computer can replicate something that is meant to come from the heart. When companies seek efficiency rather than soul. Where does human connection fit in? The scariest part is that technology isn’t just changing the way we live, IT’S CHANGING US. I miss when the world felt real. When moments belonged only to us, not the internet. When laughter wasn’t something you had to record to remember.
Everyone is born with a metaphorical string. From the moment your mother has skin-to-skin contact, a bond is created. As you grow, so does your interrelation with others. As you grow, so does your string.
The degree of separation between you and others is composed of a web of interconnectedness, which can be twisted and knotted into oblivion. When a true bond is formed, you will untangle the jumbled mess of interconnectivity, just for that ONE CONNECTION.
It can be challenging to know when that task is worth your time and effort. There will be many times when that meticulous endeavor you undertake may not be valued by the person. They may not even try to disentangle their string from yours.
For better or for worse, that connection cannot be cut, but rather unraveled into thinness. That bond may be broken, but you will forever be connected.
In such instances, you may lengthen your string away from EVERYONE.
Vulnerability is tough, especially when it has not been respected in the past, but when you find someone that edifies you, the string is pulled closer to theirs, while they untangle yours.
This system feels disorganized, but there is harmony in the chaos.
No bond or connection is ever lost. We are always connected.
WE ARE ONE.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Kait Johnson
Photographer: Tessa Luke
Model: Kait Johnson, Riley Howell
Writer: Riley Howell
Makeup: Tessa Luke
Hair: Riley Howell
Designer: Leah Wisener
The navigation of appeasing both sides of oneself is a difficult journey one must take as the dynamic between the two is often parasitic. The draining nature of one steals from the creative nature of the other. This dual ownership of one body is a pulling entity in the pursuit of finding identity. This permeating feeling in the body, although never easy, will always be worth the challenge. In both lightness and darkness, an equilibrium can be found. In another sense, the light and dark does not necessarily mean a battle between good and evil. QUITE THE CONTRARY.
The light gives hope for the darkness. The absence of the light shows the beauty of the darkness.
A dark night sky still has stars, and a sunny day can still have rain. Both natural happenings show the balance of the two.
The beauty of existing is finding that balance within oneself. Life is not filled with thoughts of l’appel du vide, but rather with evidence that the darkest of times still have light.
She sits staring from a distance.
It’s calling her name.
Her body screams in silence, it is shouting out for sustenance.
She must have strength, she must endure.
“I must have strength, I must stay strong,” she repeats.
Those words, drowned out by the silent screams.
Her strength slipping away into the silent screams of her temptations.
Each second felt like a century. Each minute felt like a millennium. Slowly, the words are silenced.
At last, the silent screams stop.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Lara Underwood
Photographer: Karley Woods
Model: Sydney Denton
Writer: Camille Bullock
Designer: Emily Loveless
She couldn’t possibly make the sacrifice for another second.
Slipping off the edge of the kitchen sink
“Sneaking a single bit wouldn’t hurt,” she says.
Tiptoeing across the kitchen tile, seeing the feast before her, she couldn’t resist.
“One sliver is all I need,” she repeats.
One turned into two, two turned into three, three turned into four, four turned into five, and five turned into the final bite.
“What happened?” she whispers. “Where did everything go?” she wonders.
She shamefully melts to the floor, tears slipping down her cheeks. Washing away the shame of her actions, She promises herself: never again.
Not until the silence SCREAMS ONCE MORE.
ALL OF US
A beautiful lake stretches out in front of me. The waves ripple along with the wind, and all I can see is the blue from the sky reflecting back up at itself.
The sky is the sky. It’s one thing, one being. Its reflection is not complicated, just true. The winds howl as the storm inside my mind begins to talk. My voice echoes back at me.
“People notice your smile first. You need to wear it all the time to make a good impression. They want to see a smile.”
“You need to stick up for yourself. Don’t let someone walk all over you, but you still need to be nice. No one accepts a rude person.”
“You always need to help others, but you can’t ask the same back. That’s an unrealistic ask. It’s selfish.”
“You need to be yourself all the time. You must be real. If not, you’re fake. You can’t completely be yourself all the time, though. You’re a little too much sometimes.”
“You need to be everything, but you could also be anything. Choose right.”
“You need to succeed, but you can’t look like you’re trying too hard.”
“If things are hard, you need to tell someone, but you can’t be a burden.”
“Remember who you are…right now.”
Birds fly across the water in their blue sky paradise as fish jump out of their blue lagoon of mirrors. The outside world reflects in the lake. The reflection is constantly changing but still staying the same, much like people.
It takes more muscles to frown than to smile, but all I want to do is break down, break free. Doesn’t it take the least amount of muscles to let the smile fall and just to wear my face as it is? A blank canvas, not showing the emotions ranging within. Is that better than constantly changing from one expression to the next to communicate what I can’t say?
Would anyone be able to understand what was going on in my mind if I just let my face fall and my mind rest? Everything the same. Everything still. Throwing away the different masks I see myself in. The ones I have constructed out of my own thoughts and fears.
WHAT IF I JUST WAS?
Can I just be?
I want to be everything, but I don’t want to have to adhere to a certain reflection of myself.
The world around me has changed me. I am who I am because of the things in my world. Why can’t I show those parts of me to the people who gave them to me? Why can’t I be all the things I want to be all the time and not just in the quiet of my own presence?
I am the water in the lake that my family fished on. I am the sky that my friends looked up at to discern different cloud shapes. I am the birds that fly free in their own world. I am the fish that can’t breathe without the sustenance their ecosystem supplies them with.
I live on the words that others speak to me. I am changed by the simplest of actions, the waves and winds, the fear clutching the areas of the unknown, the experiences I gain when I jump out of the water, or into it.
Whispers swirl in my head until they become shouts.
“She’s a million people at once.”
“She’s enough for one person, but too much for the other.”
“She has to be everything for everyone and nothing for herself.”
“A smile in the light and a tear in the dark are the supplements to her health.”
“She’s a stranger to no one but herself.”
I am everyone and no one all at once. The crinkles in my smile and my frown make me who I am, even with a face that falls into place just like rainwater.
Trying to find myself is an endless journey of trying to find everything I ever wanted to be and everything everyone else expected of me.
I am a bird, free to fly where I want and create reflections into the small lakes I fly over.
The blue lake reflects the sky and me from its place on the ground. It shows me, up with the clouds and down with the grass. It shows me, all of me.
I recognize the girl I see in the reflection. No mask. Just thought and curiosity. I hold her hand, and she takes mine. She wants to be someone else for everyone, but she can only do that by being there for herself. She is my best friend, and I am the only one who knows all parts of her. When she extends her hand out, I extend mine. When she stills, I still. I am attached to her. There can’t be one without the other.
The lake… it’s blue, just like me. I feel it calling. My image isn’t still. It’s rippled. It’s multifaceted. It changes with the wind, and so do I.
She is the imprint of the people before her, but she is her.
SHE IS YOU. SHE IS ME.
SHE IS ALL OF US.
Stylist: Katie Rose Miller
Photographer: Nyiah Milan
Model: Natalie Magee
Writer: Emma Hardy
Designer: Lucy Walters
Who knew that you would become the most important person in my life?
I live for you. I love dancing with you, I love laughing with you, I love fighting with you. I love everything about you. I think about you all the time. DO YOU THINK ABOUT ME?
CREDITS:
Stylist: Meg Karner
Photographer: Harper Evers, Karley Woods
Model: Laney Howell, Dalton Washington
Writer: Katie Garcia
Designer: Leah Wisener
D o I h ave
sameeffectonyou?
Every moment we spend together is a dream come true. I yearn for the next time I can see your face. An eternity passes in a matter of hours that we are apart. Here I stand, waiting for you to bring me back to life again.
I am spiraling into a feeling I have never experienced before, a state of mind only you have unlocked for me. I have never felt closer to someone, even when we clash. You are the air that I breathe.
How couldIeverlivewithout
you?
Could you ever live without me?
I don’t know what you have done to me, but I revel in this feeling.
Iwant to feel like this forever
CREDITS: Stylist: Katie Rose Miller, Devyn Lashae
Photographer: Karley Woods
Model: Elizabeth Nichols
Writer: Riley Howell
Makeup: Tessa Luke
Designer: Leah Wisener
My thoughts have sundered. I feel myself split
into tiny little pieces of everything that is wrong with me. I am aware that this is irrational. I know I am one being within the universe, yet my mind is shattered.
I wait for my mind to unite with my body, but this body is not mine. It belongs to the critical analysis that consumes my psyche.
I am simultaneously too much and NEVER ENOUGH.
I can always lose the weight, but I can also gain the validation I desperately need. If I looked better would people like me more?
I would rather conform than ACCEPT MYSELF because there will always be something to adjust or to dispose of.
My fragmented disposition and the affinity for what I cannot have, leave no room for me to breathe.
So, I am left here SUFFOCATING.
It starts as a whisper, a shadow, a sigh, A quiet little thought that says be more, reach high. A flicker of envy, a smoldering spark, A longing that lingers, that gnaws in the dark.
But soon it’s a fever, a wildfire’s roar, A hunger that aches, that demands even more. It steals all your quiet, your breath, any release It chains you to yearning, it shatters your peace.
You stand in the mirror, her hand in your own, The child you were, the roots that had grown. Her world was once magic— wild, strange, and free, But now it lies burned by who you should be.
You carved out a garden, you built it with care, But you let the voices of others set fire to the air. The shapes, the reflections, they bend and twist, Until you no longer know that you exist.
But still deep inside you, she waits in the ash, The child you abandoned, too tender to last. And one day she rises, all golden and true, A whisper of sunlight, a seed breaking through.
No mold can hold you, no mirror can define, The path that is yours is impossibly mine. And when she returns, when you give her the space, She’ll bloom into wonder, love, and grace.
And it will be blissful. It will be good.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Lara Underwood, Emma Frayser
Photographer: Nyiah Milan
Model: Cobey Brantley, Ayden Brown
Writer: Julia Patrick
Designer: Emily Loveless
C PR U R G
T O Y O R
CREDITS:
Stylist: Kait Johnson, Faith Willians
Photographer: Harper Evers
Model: John Nasekos, Riley Whittington
Writer: Emma Hardy
Designer: Emily Loveless
BREAKING NEWS
“ The world is burning, and we don’t care,” an onlooker comments.
She is gasping for air as she takes one more assignment, one more project, one more responsibility under her belt. Working hour after hour, she is determined to run herself as hard as she can, until there is no more air left to breathe.
He is burning in his own obsession. He can’t think of anything else except the next task, the next day where he might prove that he is supposed to be there, in a corporate prison of man’s own creation.
“This place is just as dead as it is alive,” one more person dares to add.
Last night two corporate business officials were found wholly consumed by their work. A woman was seen drowning in her professional obligations while someone reported a man engulfed in the flames of his own ambition. The pair appeared to be in a hallucinate state. There have been no more reports of the incident, and there is no knowledge of their whereabouts at the current time.
She works day and night to pay the bills, but somewhere along the line working to live became living to work.
He got his first promotion and found himself obsessed with what came next, working tirelessly to work his way up to the top.
Both man and woman climb up an endless cycle of descending escalator stairs. Each step they take keeps them working twice as longer to reach the next step. They’ve lost sight of reason and can only think of what might be waiting for them at the top, if they ever arrive.
At what point did life become so complicated? At what point does the world of professional responsibility take each individual one by one, snatching them up with no escape in sight?
At some point, the hours of work bleed into the free hours, tormenting the sleeping minds and the dazed awake.
We are prisoners of the working world. We are working to obtain the kind of green that’s manually manufactured rather than the type of green that’s right outside of our doors. We can’t live without work, but with it, we’re not really living, are we?
At what point does it all become too much? At what point can we live for ourselves and not for the system that has encaged us all at one point or another?
If we made the system, isn’t there a way to live without it?
We sacrifice our time, our health, our state of mind, and our thoughts to put one more hour of work onto the time sheet. We work until our eyes are heavy and our minds are exploding and throbbing.
We spiral into obsessions, obsessing over keeping the perfect job, obsessing over being perfect and not making mistakes, obsessing over what the next day will bring. We won’t conjure a second thought on the toll our fixations have had on our body.
So blinded by their need to work, the man and woman can only think of the tasks ahead of them. They have entirely forgotten what they are even working for. Transfixed on the days and work ahead, they can’t remember what it was all for, and they have forgotten about their future altogether. This is their life, and they aren’t sure what is next. All they can feel is the weight of a corporate system that will never let its prisoners go.
The flood of overwhelming expectations and the fire of blind ambition both consume and diffuse each other. Destructive in their own nature, they work separately to take down the obstacles in their way.
The man and the woman live in a system that they assume can’t be changed, trapped in the endless cycle of working for a life they might one day have.
We’re always working for what we might have one day, but what about the life we live today? How many anxieties do we have to face and how many pieces of life do we have to miss out on before we start questioning what we’ve become and what we’ve created?
We’ve become so hypnotized by a world of stress and obsession in which we created.
We are the perpetrators to our own sorrows.
We’ve lost all sight and understanding, replacing it for the hope that we can have a better future if we trade in our present.
We watch as life passes us by only to be fully utilized when it’s almost over.
The downpour of the woman’s workload and the standards thrust upon her slowly drench her, chilling her to the bone in the night air. She gasps in the battling wind that whips at her cheeks and freezes her hair. The water won’t stop pouring, and the wind won’t warm. She still has things to do, though, and time is running out. She can’t just let the storm sweep her away. She has to push through and weather the conditions, for who will complete all the work she still had left to do?
The man is slowly burning up in his own ambition for the future.
Unaware of the flames licking his lips or the heat consuming his being.
He can only think of the next raise he might attain or title he might gain. He doesn’t notice the destruction occurring to the things around him, just the sweet glint of the future he is so sure will arrive someday. He must deal with the heat, for there is still work to be done.
They kept working because how are they supposed to debunk and escape a system so desperately designed to trap them in the very water and fire that consumes them?
THROUGH THE MIRROR
I love my art, I truly do.
I love how my art is my body, my soul, and my spirit.
You see my art in every motion I make and every spin I take.
It all seems effortless.
Dancing until the dawn
Each decision affecting the next, without precision, there is no perfection without perfection, there is no precision. Without that who am I?
Who am I without my art?
My art infects every fiber and nerve in my body, as much as it hurts, I must endure.
I must endure while I still can sauté while there is strength, arabesque while I am able, pirouette while I am passionate.
I see my love for my art fading.
My art is my body.
How could I ever not love my art?
My art is me.
My greatest work of art only growing weaker over time.
Most artists improve over time, while I watch my art turn against me right before my eyes, right THROUGH THE MIRROR.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Gabrielle Bridges, Lauren Resmondo
Photographer: Harper Evers
Model: Sayler Tidwell
Writer: Camille Bullock
Designer: Cate Simmons
T E
You know, not too long ago I had a personality. I would spend my days absorbing the world around me. I loved reading, writing, and talking to others. I had hobbies. I had aspirations. I lived life.
Now, I am glued to this device in my hands. I no longer fill my days with enriching activities, but with endless short videos. My screen time is a reminder of time lost. I have become desensitized to the things I see.
It is like second nature at this point.
Put phone down, pick it back up. Close one app, open another. See one video, scroll to the next. My brain surrenders to the numbness that overcomes me while I am lying in my bed for hours on end. Here, I lay surrounded by my devices: my links to the world but also the things that make me feel isolated from it.
Am I becoming one of them?
I feel rigid and robotic in my bed. No matter how intense the video, I can no longer find it within myself to react. I am broken. I am itching for the next time I can scroll like an addict. Technology is the buffer between me and my daily life, and I cannot live without it.
Occasionally, though, I find myself missing the feelings of happiness and excitement. I even miss feeling sad and angry. When did those feelings leave me? I wish something could wake me from this mundane stupor, this fruitless activity of doomscrolling.
I sink deeper into my bed. Gone are the days of having emotions. I think back to my childhood, how I always had a sparkle of wonder in my eyes. That sparkle has been replaced by the perpetual white light of my device’s screen reflected into my pupils.
How long has it been since I have felt fulfilled?
When was the last time I smiled?
All my dreams are now held hostage within these devices around me. Everything I wanted and the person I dreamed of growing into, locked away behind a series of passwords. With these devices, I have just become another user. Another mindless, anonymous user. They have stolen my enthusiasm and robbed me of my determination. I want to escape, but I do not know if it is too late.
CREDITS:
Stylist: Mariama Hawkins, Sarah Smothers
Photographer: Nyiah Landfair
Model: Seth Caruth
Writer: Katie Garcia
Makeup: Mariama Hawkins
Hair: Nyiah Landfair
Graphics: Jordan Jackson
I bring my hand to my face and am met with the sensation of cold, hard metal beneath my fingertips. I must unplug. I must feel human again
