Hey, <3!
-First off, no problem, thanks for reviewing mine,
-Second, I didn't really think this belonged in the short story section, because I was about to burn this (I burn all my crappy writings), but I decided to at least post it here first.
-Third, the story! I hated this one... the was no plot advancment becase this is just an introduction, the rest of the story is not written from the same POV. So this was just a little intro.
Thank you very much for fixing this... I've attempted to make it better, but I must say, at least it can't get worse. So here is my edited/new/all that jazz version.
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Such an odd person she was. The cheerful-type that some choose to avoid… and in no reason. She was clam and obsessive, the “Dude... where’s my car..?”-type but also the “Holy Shit!!! Where the bloody hell is my pencil?!”-type. Calm, yet obsessive.
I'll admit she was more than weird. She was about as weird as one could possibly get. Not the tight leather, whip, chains and dog collar weird. But the Green t-shirt, big smile after being slapped, purple ribbon weird. She’d show up randomly in the rain wearing a bright yellow rain coat and carrying two extra sweet coffees. I never really figured out if she was beautifully insane, or insanely beautiful. Either way, I was in love.
Random, peculiar and sweet… those were the words for her. She’d warm up your heart; give you hope and all without even trying to. She was a cheerful person; still able to keep some happiness among a world of depressed people.
She played the piano very well. That I admired. She practiced a lot, but there seemed no need for it. I suppose there was, but to me… she was perfect. I guess I shouldn’t say that, it bothered her when I did… but yet, it seems so true.
Art was her passion. Everywhere she went; she carried at least one sketchbook and a few pens and pencils. And she could certainly draw well. Artistically talented, some call it. I would say, just another thing she mastered wonderfully, so early in life.
Her optimism existed was only for the world. She thought so little of herself. It hurt to see that she honestly thought that. It came to the extreme where I had to steal her finished sketches so she wouldn’t destroy them, or get angry about being unable to draw. That was a lie, she had wonderful talent, but she refused to acknowledge it. One day she finally told me that she hated herself. Completely. I just couldn’t comprehend how she could think that.
A sunlight-shimmering exquisiteness formed an aura around her. It was sort of intimidating, being as stunning as she was. Sometimes I much regret blinking when I was with her, that split second, wasted... I could have been soaking her sweet splendor into my eyes. She hated her looks though, she said she was unattractive; how very wrong she was.
Quietness occasionally engulfed her. She didn’t talk much; it was sort of heartbreaking to see. Her heart had been torn recklessly apart by someone she would not mention. But still, she was still a cheerful person; she would just get very quiet sometimes. When that happened, I had never felt so helpless. Some nights she would cry uncontrollably but other times it was rare for her smile to fade.
She said she lived for me. That changed a lot. I was delighted that she loved me, but also disappointed that she could ever think that I was good enough for her. I wasn’t worth her time, there was no way I could be. But yet, there we were, together.
Such a seemingly innocent being she existed as, but ever so knowledgeable. With her positive outlook, one would think she couldn’t see the sadness in life, but she really did. In her own little lonely way, she’d deal with it. Aptness was probably the best word to describe her, partly because she used odd words, such as that, a lot. An angel, but not in disguise, delightfully extravagant... She must’ve been an angel, or perhaps a fairy… Randomly appearing one day and changing your whole life… whichever she was... I suppose ‘twas too good to last.
I’ve been told my mind made her out to be more than she really was, but I’m just in denial about the whole thing. I was in love, what do expect me to think of her? So, some may still ask how anyone could be so amazing. But the real question I choose to ask is; how could anyone hurt someone so amazing? What could possibly be so evil, that it could ever be capable of murdering my Marie?
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I still don't like it, but I think it's better. Still crappy... but better. Thanks for reading.
I like how you fleshed out the story a bit. I did notice a few places where the wording seemed awkward, like:
