Young Writers Society

I think it’s both beautiful and strange how easily a person like me falls in and out of emotions. They’re almost like clouds, they’re so unstable, so quick to fade when touched; and it takes more bravery than anything else in the world to touch those emotions. It’s always been this way, and I don’t expect it to change as long as I’m alive because that’d be hopelessly optimistic, and I can’t force myself into that.

I think I’ve been choked lately by those moments of you’re not good enough snared up between try harder and nothing you do will work. And it creates hopelessness, I suppose. At least, that’s the easiest way I can describe it. I want to feel good enough; I really do. And while it’s supposed to be an intrinsic truth, I can’t close my teeth around it long enough to taste the truth; and if you can’t taste sweetness, you’ll never understand the depth of happiness.

So it brings me to a place where I’m tracing roots, finding ways to trick myself into being happy if I have to. I’ve tried—and failed—too many times to find my place in this wasteland, and I never, ever succeed. And I think it’s making leaving easier; and I think it’s making my heart colder in the process.

I don’t quite understand how I can hurt so badly for so long over things that shouldn’t matter, over things that no one else gives a nod to or even hesitates over. It’s another layer of you’re an alien plastered onto the decaying, corpsesque face of no one gets it. People get it; of this I’m sure, but if they never say a word about it, it’s impossible to prove that it’s true.

God, and it feels so awful to feel alone in these thoughts, to think that the first person who hears this out of my mouth will just say oh, well I understand, but listen to what’s wrong with me because I swear it’s ten times worse.

But I’m still enough of a fool to try time and time again. Friendships, love interests: they all end up the same. One person gets suffocated or forgets about the other, and before you know it, you’re the one having to speak first every single time. It’s the moment when the person you love withdraws from you because she can cough up pieces of her mind all day long and spoon-feed you thoughts until you’re poisoned, but she can’t speak her heart to save her life. It’s the moment when you choke up around a friend you’ve known for years because you’re too close for your good, you’re too close for his good. But you want to try and care; you want to force yourself to keep pushing, even when they won’t push back. And before you know it, friendship isn’t enough.

The cycle never stops, nor can you expect it to. Once you’re set in your ways, you’re damned to them, snared in the circle that won’t relent.

It’s an eternal trap, and the only way out is through force.

I like your writing it is extremely complex and your vocabulary is to die for. Although I found the wrting very confusing and that made it hard to follow and me want to read on less, even though the writing is so beautiful.

You're writing is deep, beautiful, and intriguing. It's like a look into your mind. Very unexpected!

Lumiii!
I don't think I've ever reviewed anything of yours yet, but I suppose I can always start now!

I almost got scared reading some of your points, wondering if I'm actually in a similar situation, but that's good because it has the thought-provoking factor. It reflects in this piece how it really is a person's train of thought. Relatively simple language, frank descriptions. I sort of pictured a person sitting on their porch, glowering at his/her surroundings with an overcast sky while thinking.
Perhaps it's the way I think, but I appreciated how the piece seemed to flow and yet have this element of choppy-ness, the way our thoughts can seamlessly switch from one thing to another without giving us much pause unlike if we were to say it to someone. And also how you didn't reveal too much or too little.
(I'm trying really hard to critique you! >_<)
If I had to force myself to pick on something here, it would be the use of 'corpsesque'.
On one hand, I argued with myself that it fits with the tone then, as I noticed the language get more vulgar after that
On the other hand, I felt that 'decaying' was sufficient, subtlety to prelude the harsh lines that would follow.

And while it’s supposed to be an intrinsic truth, I can’t close my teeth around it long enough to taste the truth; and if you can’t taste sweetness, you’ll never understand the depth of happiness.

This line made me pause, for long.
1) I'm curious as to why you chose teeth, since it's our tongue that would taste the sweetness. Something I'm not getting? >_< I suppose because it's using the teeth, then the sweetness obviously can't be tasted?
2) For the life of me I can't figure out why I'm at odds with this line. A part of me feels it's a little contrived and disconnected to the persona, a part of me feels it fits the whole exploration of depression and the fact that our thoughts can carry layers of complexity too.

Aha, now I'm officially scared to review your works because it seems you're on a whole other planet of awesome from me. But that means I liked it!
(I figure I didn't help much and exposed my ignorance/noobishness instead, sorry xD)

~Meep(:

WOW...this is...amazing! Deep and profound. Nothing bad I can say about it.

They’re almost like clouds, they’re so unstable, so quick to fade when touched;

This analogy and image is dead on, I love it. It makes your opening very strong for this piece. And this character that you've developed, partly through your own experience (lending it some truth), has a well sculpted voice. I haven't read any of your stories if you write them, but this character would make for a great first-person story in my opinion.

I guess my only significant complaint is that this piece is a bit too didactic at times.

The ending is very odd but cool. You make this suggestion that force is necessary and it almost sounds like a challenge to the reader, leaving the piece open-ended and thought-provoking when it's done.

I loved this. A lot. I especially like the part where you're talking about a girl spilling out her thoughts and being able to talk all day, but really never speaking her heart. I felt like that just today, like all I do ever is force my thoughts and opinions down someones throat, but I don't let them see that other side, my heart, or maybe I just have nothing meaningful to say I guess. I'm not sure. But anyway. This was easy to read without being full out boring. Your word choice was sophisticated without being overly wordy. I really enjoyed this piece. I think everyone should be able to see this side of people, the side thats hard to show sometimes and that people rarely understand.

I don't have any criticisms. I was honestly too in to it to care about anything else. Stunning work Lumi =]

This is more of a response/analysis than a review. But I feel as though I owe you something for all the amazing reviews you've been doing, and I think I'd be far more useful talking about prose than poetry. Also, I find these sorts of things interesting to think about, and I don't often find people that discuss them.

(Me when I read the spoiler: "Depression? Oh, this is so mine.")

So violin practice, chemistry worksheets, world history project, and essay on Fahrenheit 451 be darned. This is getting done.

***From the very beginning, I look at this very critically. If you don't know what I'm talking about, what I'm talking about probably doesn't mean anything. Also, considering the character aspect and my reluctance to refer to this character as "you," I took the liberty of picking a name. I'll call him Alain.

***Much of the following is simply stupidity, the incoherent conjecture of a teenage boy. Perhaps, in the end, my ponderings may lead you in some interesting (and hopefully helpful) directions.

***And I make an incredible number of assumptions. About your character himself. I don't think I know him better than you, I just didn't want this thing to go on forever...

It’s always been this way, and I don’t expect it to change as long as I’m alive because that’d be hopelessly optimistic, and I can’t force myself into that.

-Interesting. I think Alain knows he can be happy. If he believed (or, as he would say, "was under the delusion") that he could change, in that faith ("delusion") he might actually be happy. I feel that he won't force himself to believe that, however. Maybe he doesn't want to lie to himself, which shows how much he values the truth. Maybe he sees it as stupid, to believe in something that he knows isn't real. But "the only way out is force"--he believes he'll only be happy if he does lie to himself. I'm not sure if you did that on purpose, but if so, I'm quite impressed.

-(My ideas on this are a bit biased toward the pessimistic, as Angel is the same way, except applied to the idea of religion, minus the objectivity of himself. Funnily enough, I saw a lot of my characters in this one study.)

I think I’ve been choked lately by those moments of you’re not good enough snared up between try harder and nothing you do will work. And it creates hopelessness, I suppose.

-There's truth to this. But Alain has a passive voice, and here I get the sense that "try[ing] harder" wasn't really what he meant. In Alain's perspective, it may be that it's not trying that gets him where he wants to be--after all, what is it that trying harder would be to yourself? Others see you try harder. But you, looking in at yourself, see what? Improvement, perhaps? Or is it just there, one morning when you wake up, some flower that blossomed in the middle of the night? We work toward "aspiration," I think, but as it's something we want, we never really see ourselves as trying harder. We only see what we want. So my question becomes, what is it that Alain wants? Approval? Somewhat--he wants to be able to be proud of what he does. I don't think it's someone else telling him he's not good enough, nor will ever be.

And while it’s supposed to be an intrinsic truth, I can’t close my teeth around it long enough to taste the truth; and if you can’t taste sweetness, you’ll never understand the depth of happiness.

-Here is where Alain and I differ. What is a lollipop to a woman that spends her days leisurely, in utter comfort, with everything she could ever want? What is a lollipop to a woman that spends her day of the side of a road begging for change? It would seem that living in the dimness of sadness would allow you to absorb more of the light of happiness, while already dilated pupils would be able to widen no further.

-Of course, this brings us to the true definition of happiness. And while that may be something I'll have to save for later, I will say that I also believe Alain is incorrect about the origins of happiness. It's funny that he should believe happiness is natural, when he seems to me like the type of character that has never had happiness that belonged exclusively to him. Something that didn't depend on the love of another, for example.

So it brings me to a place where I’m tracing roots, finding ways to trick myself into being happy if I have to.

-Unfortunately, I skipped this line the first time. And I find that it ultimately contradicts my first hypothesis of exactly who this Alain character is. Perhaps honesty in deception--he's trying to be completely honest with himself even when he tells himself something like, "I don't need friends." To him, even though he knows it's a lie (and reminds himself of such), he wants to believe it. Because who doesn't want to be happy? But--my apologies. I'm trying to make the evidence fit the conclusion. Moving on.

And I think it’s making leaving easier; and I think it’s making my heart colder in the process.

-This is one of my favorite quotes from this--not because of any special revelations, like many of the others, but because of the subtle mystery it presents. Leaving where? Home? His friends? The world? I really can't elaborate here, but it reminded me of something I read long ago--

People get it; of this I’m sure, but if they never say a word about it, it’s impossible to prove that it’s true.
God, and it feels so awful to feel alone in these thoughts, to think that the first person who hears this out of my mouth will just say oh, well I understand, but listen to what’s wrong with me because I swear it’s ten times worse.

-I've always found it extremely amusing when people do that--you tell them why your day's been bad, and they'll tell you why theirs has been worse. So Alain probably keeps many of his problems to himself, because he feels that if he talks to someone about them, they'll tell him he's being overdramatic or overreacting or something along those lines. Because your problems are always much worse than anyone else's. Maybe that's why so many people have such disdain for what they will quickly label as self-pity--What are you whining about? I've got way bigger problems and I'm not complaining!

It’s the moment when the person you love withdraws from you because she can cough up pieces of her mind all day long and spoon-feed you thoughts until you’re poisoned, but she can’t speak her heart to save her life. It’s the moment when you choke up around a friend you’ve known for years because you’re too close for your good, you’re too close for his good. But you want to try and care; you want to force yourself to keep pushing, even when they won’t push back. And before you know it, friendship isn’t enough.

-Ah, the part with the title in it. These are always (arguably) the best parts. Unfortunately...

-So I'll admit--I've never been in love. Being "in love," to me, requires two people that love each other. But I guess you could say I've felt love (and trust me, I've been infatuated so many times that I'm fairly certain they're on different levels). So this response is automatically 50% less "reliable" than any of the preceding, and those aren't the most dependable ideas in the world... which makes me, again, reluctant to open my big, fat mouth (type on my big, fat keyboard?).

-But I will mention that I love the first sentence. Perfect depiction of something that I've seen countless times. I also love the second, but it's harder for me to understand because of the (intentional?) vagueness. I can make about three solid theories, but I won't share because this is already WAY too long. However, it does annoy me that this seems to have great significance to Alain, yet I'm not entirely sure what he's trying to say. In the end, I suppose the meaning is somewhat universal, and I do like the return of the idea of force ("pushing").

It’s an eternal trap, and the only way out is through force.

-I agree with inkwell; this ending is very thought-provoking. Nice way to tie this up.

It's almost scary how well I can relate to this. But I think that's quite obvious from everything I've said. So I'll shut up now.

(P.S. I hope I haven't offended you. I don't think I did, and I certainly didn't mean to, but I have a habit of discussing controversial ideas with the perfectly wrong people. If so, I apologize.)

Hey Lumi.

So it brings me to a place where I’m tracing roots, finding ways to trick myself into being happy if I have to. I’ve tried—and failed—too many times to find my place in this wasteland, and I never, ever succeed. And I think it’s making leaving easier; and I think it’s making my heart colder in the process.

This paragraph is where you start to lose me just a little bit. Every image is so visual, so well described up to this point, that I found myself stopping here and not seeing such a clear image. I see snatches, which is maybe what you wanted, but I found it a mild break in style.

That being said I do find the images fit and create an emotional response which fits along with everything else in the story. But I'd just like it to be a little more grounded in a strong set of images and a bit more of a defined purpose. Right now it's floating just a bit, and I think there's a bit more you can say on the topic.

~

I won't comment on the ending until/unless I get an answer for it myself.

Unsure what to think about this piece, to be honest. I like it because it just lays out everything that normally I don't express and sometimes can't. I dislike it for the same reason (that little part of me that wants nobody to know). A paradox, I know, but I'm leaning more towards "like" because you reminded me what it's like to feel when reading a piece. The description, especially at the beginning, is so well done that it let me just sink in and read. You shift away from that side to a more introspective style in the second half (pretty much after the paragraph I quoted) but by then I find it doesn't matter as much. You've taken us into your thought process enough that it doesn't really matter, and we can start filling in blanks on our own. Plus, not a lot of metaphors are really needed in that segment.

I like the cycles that flow through this piece, as well. The way it starts on a downward circle then creeps back up, and ends on an upward note but it still sits in the middle of the tone of the piece and is overall hopeful. I find, at least.

Not sure how much more I'll say about this. I'll end with this: I find you hit the scope of feelings and the frequently unwritten constant that comes with not being sure what happiness is rather nicely, and while it is probably impossible for you to hit that perfectly, you did a good job of it with this.

You know where to find me if you have questions/comments.

~Rosey