Life
A Trip to The Younger Me. AI-Generated.
The first time I tried to leave my own life, I didn’t pack a suitcase. I packed silence. It was the kind of silence that sits on your chest and calls itself “rest,” the kind that whispers, You’re tired because you’re failing. The kind that makes even the softest morning feel like a verdict.
By ABINEZA SHINGIRO Vivien Brunoabout a month ago in Writers
The Abandoned, part 1
We’ve all heard something about ghost towns and abandoned buildings. You might think it’s a fascinating but rare phenomenon, but you’d be wrong. If you dig deeper, you’d find it’s actually quite common. Disturbingly common, in fact. There’s at least one in every U.S. state, and thousands around the world. When you add in vacant properties, the list probably balloons to millions.
By Gabriel Shamesabout a month ago in Writers
CRIMSON. Content Warning.
My hands are stained and trembling with a clear, crimson red. A rich and ugly sight to behold, I wonder who is dead. Who’s blood do I have smeared all over me? I don’t think to wash it off, it’s almost exposure therapy, to see how long I could last, evidence, for all to see, show them I am a bad person, so I can be free.
By Liberty Pageabout a month ago in Writers
Listening to Trees
I didn’t go into the woods looking for wisdom. I went because the city felt too loud in ways sound couldn’t explain. Sirens, screens, conversations stacked on top of each other—everything demanding attention, everything urgent, nothing patient. I told myself I just needed air. A walk. An hour without notifications.
By Jhon smithabout a month ago in Writers
