Novel Treatments / I'd like a little bit of hope on the side please.
i sat in silence.
i sat in maddening silence.
i sat in maddening silence and watched the world go by.
and while i sat, i thought, and while i thought, my heart ached. real pain. none of that emo bullshit. my heart was actually throbbing. pounding. pulsating. it was on fire. and it fucking hurt. and every fucking beat reminded me i was alive. every fucking beat made me hate myself more. every fucking beat reminded me of everyone i had hurt. i am sick. i am sick and twisted. i ruin everything. they should all hate me. they should all ban together and destroy me. i have ruined their lives and i’m living in thier house. living in thier house, sucking them dry. dry. i am a failure. i will never get better. i am a monster and i hate what i have become. i hate who i was. and i hate who i am becoming. every little action, every little thing i do, makes me hate myself more. the hatred grabs my intestines and twists. it twists. and it fucking hurts. it pulls out my guts, throws my sins in front of me. i can’t face myself, i am a failure. the pain mixes with the hatred, with the shame of who i am. and it swirls inside of me, it fills me, it drains me, it becomes me. and my head pounds out what has now become my instinct.
kill.destroy.kill.destroy.kill.destroy.
i wish i belonged somewhere. i wish i could love something and not be afraid to fall. i wish i could. i look up at the night sky and wish. i wish on every fucking star i see. please i beg. please, i just want to be loved.
i scream into my pillow. i scream till my voice fades. i wish i hadn’t done this to my parents. i know i’ve broken their hearts. i know i’ve made them feel horrible. i’m sorry! i’m sorry! i’m so sorry! please don’t forgive me. i hate myself for making you cry mom. what kind of sick kid does that to thier mother? i want to tell her. i want to crawl into her lap, to spill my guts, to show her the inside of my head. to make her understand just how sorry i am. so sorry for ever existing in her womb. it was a space i never should have occupied. i’m sorry mom. i’m sorry for letting my pain fill the bit of you it did. i’m sorry for the shrinks. i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry for things i’m not even aware i’ve done. i’m so so so so so so sorry. i’m sorry for the nights you cry and dad comforts you. i’m sorry for causing all the hurt i did.
i pound my head against the wall.
i feel nothing.
i do it again. and again. and again.
i do it to prove that i am sorry. i do it so my body will bear the marks of the pain i have caused others.
i’m so sorry. i’m a selfish, smartassed bastard, and i’m sorry.
i pick up my ipod.
menu
settings
repeat one
menu
music
artists
blue october
all
hate me
play
the song starts, and this indescribable wave of painful relief sweeps over me. yes. yes. this is what i need, right here right now, this will save me, music will save me.
“I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home”
i’m so sorry mom.
“There’s a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?”
my stomach twists, i hold on to it, the pain blares through my head. the song keeps playing.
“Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you”
hate me mom.
“Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you”
hate me dad. move on. the song’s carrying me away. i’m safe within it’s words, it’s guitar rifts. i’m home.
“So I’ll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind”
i will leave, i promise you that. i sing soundlessly to myself, my lips shaping around the words Justin Furstenfeld feels. the words that bond souls. the words that prove that music will heal you.
i sing to myself
‘hate me today, hate me tomorrow, hate me for all the things i didn’t do for yooooou, hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swaaallow, hate me so you can finally see whats good for you.’
i close my eyes, i open my heart, i let every emotion inside of me flow and i sing along with him.
‘And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “Make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “How can you do this to me?”
Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you
Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you
For you
For you
For you’
and then i cry. i cry because that song is so beautiful. i cry because i know that other people feel like i do. i cry because i feel part of something. i cry because even though i have all of that, i am still, completely, utterly, alone.
i cry until i meet the darkness. i cry until i meet the monsters of my nightmares, i cry myself to sleep and hope that i never wake up.
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First, I want to say, I really like how you included the connection to music and the emotion and healing power of it, how it can make a person feel less alone in the world. It was very powerful and I love how you worded it.
My problem with this is this: You say in the first real paragraph, “none of that emo bullshit,” and I was glad to hear it, except the rest kind of read as “emo” to me. We know the character has angst, yes, and that there’s a bad/shaky relationship with the parents, okay, but there’s no depth to it. You need to explore a backstory there. How can I care about the character’s pain if I know nothing about the character or what is causing it?
Also, I am pretty sure you cannot publish a work that has that many lyrics in it, due to copyright issues. I could wrong though.
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So tell me how you really feel…
I definitely felt the ‘fuck it’ sort of feel you wrote about. What the hell is this all about? I get that you’re mad and sad and full of rage and hate and shame and all that other stuff. The golden question is… WHY??? What on earth made this guy so pissed off? Did he come out of the closet and shame his parents? Did he do a hit-and-run on the little girl down the street? Did he impregnate the girl next door? Is it all the black he wears that match the shit he has pinned in his face around his tattoos? What did he do that makes him plead for forgiveness for 1071 words and still doesn’t get?
There’s no story here. There’s no beginning, no middle and no end. There’s no closure whatsoever. It’s a bunch of fragmented sentences, uncapitalized words, repetition and ramblings of a seriously messed up person.
I wish I could be more positive but I have no idea what I just read.
Sharon
Well, if you want to get this published ( i really hate to break it to you) , but you are going to have to capitalize.
The poetic feel submersed me into the story from the beginning. Good job on that.
But as I got further it just felt repetitive and annoying.
It’s okay to be inspired by a writer. I was inspired to write my novel when I read “Speak” by laurie halse anderson.
The key is to develop your own style aside from that.
”
i do it again. and again. and again.
i do it to prove that i am sorry. “
Mash it together and do be afraid to play with your grammar (compound complex…etc)
I’m a fan of the angst driven, troubled teen character so keep going!!
Your talented.
Happy writing,
JD
You certainly have a sad pice of writing here. I think it could be improved if you let the reader know where the guy is. You said living in their house but also mentioned at one time being someplace else. I pictured him in his room on his bed. But is that where you want him to be? Is he in a hospital?
You spoke of what you did to your parents in a way that led me to believe it to be criminla. Are you in juvenile?
The writing itself was very good, especially from one so young. I believe you have a carreer in writing. You have a lot of talent. Good luck.
I appreciate your ‘fuck it’ style of writing and it doesn’t bother me personally, however it generally does tend to disrupt flow of reading words (and unconsiously disrupts people’s enjoyment of your work, in the same way bad picture on a tv can ruin the experience of a really good movie) when things are not formatted correctly.
Delivery of words can be more important than their content. And it would suck to have great content suffer because of bad delivery. Your writing would be better received by others correctly punctuated, even if you don’t want it to. (they don’t have a ‘fuck it’ style to reading your work)
reason i say this is because I think your flow of words is excellent (and would hate for someone to miss enjoying them through lack of formatting), I thoroughly enjoyed them. They expressed my own feelings from when I was a teenager dealing with self hate issues. It’s fantastic expression of unhappy and confused feelings. Your words are evocative, moving and expressive.
Paragraph placement in the first 3rd (before the lyrics) could use some attention.
spelling mistake – thier is spealt their
overall – great piece. A moment of life captured well in words. Thanks for a grat read.
Since your goal is to be published, the first thing you need to do is use capitalization at the beginning of every sentence. You’re not e.e. cummings and you’re not writing poetry, so there’s no exception to this rule.
Second, in order to use song lyrics in a published piece, you must get permission from the copyright owner and PAY them for their use. From what I understand, this can get very, very expensive.
That being said, you’ve done an excellent job of expressing anguish and remorse, especially in a teenager. You’ve provided enough foreshadowing to keep the reader hooked into the next section to find out exactly what the hell this kid has done and what havoc he/she has wreaked. Good job, and good luck.
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