every morning, as soon as i leave my room, and every time i pass through the door, all day, every day, i am disturbed. when the year began, we moved into apartments with our names written on signs on our doors, the names of all the roommates who would share the year.. my roommates and i wrote descriptions under our names (see: alpha surly bitch), and did likewise for certain neighbors. one drunken night, the boys next door decided to follow our lead and note the whereabouts of the people who had left their room, which was a majority. they made silly comments about those who remained, and the absence of those who moved. but one boy from that room killed himself and under his name is only 'r.i.p.' for a while, in the few days after his death, the sign lay on the floor, no one outside the room knowing whether to hang it back up or throw it away. they rehung it themselves, and added the addendum. it seems so cheap, so unsettlingly nonchalant, like he should still live there, or here, or anywhere.. though he doesn't. and every time i walk by it, i'm almost fooled into thinking he's just like the rest: dropped out, moved home or off campus. and i catch myself and i don't understand.

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