Solitary Diving

[downthrough]

She never wanted to see me again. Cut to my room, the place I never left, the place you never saw. Three weeks of no contact, no feeling, just drained.

My sister came to the house with a friend. We were watching The Outer Limits. She seemed like she was in a hurry, but assured me she wasn't. She asked, “Do you want to go to Austin?” I thought, why not, there's nothing left for me here anymore. Little did I know I would never return.

The mononucleosis seemed to have worn off. I wasn't tired, I was fucking pissed off. At who? Everyone, including myself. So what did I do? I expressed it. How? I physically and verbally intimidated others, and for myself, I went straight to my knife. Luckily, everytime I did, I ended up with a thread of hope. How does that work? I put down the knife. Unfortunately, the evidence is still there, streaks of pale lines on a brown canvas, not so unlike a modern abstract painting.

The move to Austin didn't help immediately. I still felt lonely, suicidal and full of hate. All of the time i spent alone didn't help either. I wanted my life back. That meant going back to San Antonio and having the things I had two months prior. Now when I look back, San Antonio was nothing more than an imaginary idea. Home was nothing more than an imaginary idea. I was nothing more than an imaginary idea.

Just because you are prescribed meds and go to therapy doesn't mean you automatically feel better. In fact, one word explains what happens at first, overwhelming. Can you relate? Everyone feels overwhelmed at some point in their life. Mine happened one day when I was alone. Images of Kristina flashed into my mind. Why? We talked earlier that day. Needless to say, that didn't help much. Now I saw her differently. A girl I once thought was optimistic, supportive and loving now appeared to me like a liar, hypocrite and uncaring. I freaked. I found some cord and looked for a high spot to hang myself. Again, as much as I longed for it, I couldn't. Thoughts of family and friends eventually woke me from my suicidal nightmare.


Pretty lame, but eh, whatever. Any comments, suggestions?

 

[Crystal]

no one replied. k, me the first. but, downthrough, what kind of comment do you want? about your style of writing or what? anyway, the following were something that came to me spontaneously.

The first time when i read, it seemed to be very real!

here: "I wasn't tired, I was fucking pissed off. At who? Everyone, including myself"; here :"and for myself, I went straight to my knife. Luckily, everytime I did, I ended up with a thread of hope"; here : "Now I saw her differently. A girl I once thought was optimistic, supportive and loving now appeared to me like a liar, hypocrite and uncaring. I freaked" and here : "still felt lonely, suicidal and full of hate."

The second time when i read, it seemed to be more like a journal, diary or something that helped you vented out your feeling.

"Just because you are prescribed meds and go to therapy doesn't mean you automatically feel better. In fact, one word explains what happens at first, overwhelming."-----reasonable thinking.

"How? I physically and verbally intimidated others," ----so, it seemed that you are a man, right?

"and for myself, I went straight to my knife." -----revealed that you tended to invert those negative feeling to yourself, which meant you are a kind and reserved person--my guess though.

"Now when I look back, San Antonio was nothing more than an imaginary idea. Home was nothing more than an imaginary idea. I was nothing more than an imaginary idea"------- Those who have ever had some hard times in their lives, as they looked back, they tended to view the life as a dream or something like that.

umm, not sure whether what i have said are what you want to get. if not, let me know, and i would be willing to delete them.

my best wishes, and yes, take care,

crystal

 

[Irene Wilde]

I'm going to give you a very honest reaction, and if someone wants to accuse me of a lack of tact, so be it.

I think you've got the beginnings of something very good here, which isn't something that I say often. I read it, and while it's rough and little more than an outline in places, you have a good story and a natural voice for telling it.

What's killing it for me is your tag line -- "whatever." If you don't care, why should I? Why should any reader? And it's that "whatever" attitude more than a lack of experience writing or an inability to express yourself that detracts from your story. You have things you want to reveal, yet you don't seem to trust the reader enough to open up and tell your story. You give bits and pieces and then retreat behind your smoke screen, leaping ahead of your story, hiding behind vague phrases, telling instead of showing. The character in your story has been through a private hell -- take the reader inside that, let your reader live it and experience it, then bring him out the other side.

I'd love to see you tell this story as if you were telling it to your best and most trusted friend, someone you are so close to that, when you talk to him/her, you lose the "whatever" attitude and say what's in your heart to say.

I'm not writing this to make you feel bad about about what you've written. I'm writing this because what you've written shows promise. I'd love to see you expand on it, trust your reader, and trust your voice as a writer to tell the story you've got to tell. I think you want to, I think it's all there inside, and I wish you the best at bringing it to life.

Irene Wilde

 

[Crystal]

...And it's that "whatever" attitude more than a lack of experience writing or an inability to express yourself that detracts from your story. You have things you want to reveal, yet you don't seem to trust the reader enough to open up and tell your story. You give bits and pieces and then retreat behind your smoke screen, leaping ahead of your story, hiding behind vague phrases, telling instead of showing.

Irene Wilde

Irene, that is insightful. (I have learned as well.)

 

[Irene Wilde]

I have thought further on this piece (proof of how much it interests me), and thought perhaps, it might make an interesting commentary on young people today to use some of this fragmentary telling, as a device for the characterization of the narrator, provided, of course, the writer realizes this is a device and uses it accordingly. Let the narrator use his short-hand, concealing his emotions, and then slowly draw the veil back and show what's behind the facade.

It seems like a lot of the younger people out there hide behind this "whatever" whether because of a lack of faith in the world, an attempt to be "cool," or fear that the world is a very uncaring place. It would be an intriguing way to tell a story, so long as the story really gets told.

I'll probably think on this some more, but I'd still love to see it expanded.

Irene Wilde