Remedy

Just something I wrote spur of the moment, for about ten minutes. It didn't quite fit anywhere else, and I'm not going to make it into something better/different. Out of curiosity though, if you don't mind, how do the characters appear? Is the narrator annoying, or can you relate to her? What about the woman who's the focus of the story? The characters are more what I'm interested in than anything else.

Thanks.

It’s an honorable notion, to save someone, but it’s not always worth it.

All of the years of encouraging words, late night talks, all of the pleading and reassuring: it all fell on deaf ears, led right back to where it started.

She’d work herself into a state of confusion and anger, sobbing and sniveling that she was worth nothing, that she deserved to die, that she had no place in this life.

Privately, I agreed, but I never told her that. Originally, I was attracted to her pain, her sorrow, and I wanted to make that go away; seeing others in distress isn’t bearable to me. And it wasn’t just I who flocked around her, trying to bring her up to a level where she could stand. They weren’t all like me either, wishing that she would just finally go up or at least die all ready.

Was it cruel for me to wish for her suicide? Yes, perhaps it was; after all, hoping that someone will finally take their own life is not the nicest notion.

She accused me of that once. “You strike me as the type of person who would rather someone commit suicide than talk about her problems,” she shouted, throwing a wine bottle and threatening to cut. It was the first time that we had fought like this, but all ready her techniques were old. And later, when she had drunk herself to a stupor, it was me who cradled her while she whimpered, brushing back her hair and assuring her that no one wanted her to die.

As accurate as her statement might seem, given what I’ve all ready said, it wasn’t completely true. I was tired of hearing about her problems; by that point, I had done everything I could think of, short of bundling her up in the car and dropping her off at the hospital for an extended stay in the mental ward. But to hear her speak, you would have thought I had done nothing; she insisted, time and time again, that no one cared about her, that no one would notice if she just stopped appearing, that everyone was there only to hurt her.

I had a friend commit suicide a few months after that first fight, after I first started hoping that she would just get up the guts to pull the trigger. The death of that girl, while not surprising, still struck me hard; I had liked her, and it had seemed for a time that perhaps she was picking up – she was clean from drugs, she was beginning to gain weight after an active anorexic/bulimic period, she was in family therapy and individual therapy for the rape, and she really seemed to love her boyfriend. Then, just as suddenly, it all went downhill; her beau committed suicide, shortly after calling her. He had left her with a question; an insignificant thing at the time, but she was left wondering what if; what if she had picked the other answer – would he still be alive? What if explaining her answer would have taken enough time that he would have opted out with more thought? What if… So her death was not, unfortunately, as surprising as it could have been; nonetheless, I mourned for her passing. In my own closed hearted way, I had loved her.

So no, I do not actively encourage suicide, and I do not rejoice to hear of its occurrence. This woman was just… a special case, I suppose you could say. It was an inner feeling, something I never spoke of, never gave a hint of, wished to forget.

And it was not entirely there because she annoyed me. In a way, I saw it as her only way out; she’s one of those people who will whine forever without ever attempting to do anything. She does have problems, severe problems, but she refuses to get help for them; her only solution is for her unrealistic expectations to be met, something which will never happen. She will spend her whole life being miserable; her pain will not go away unless she begins to help herself, even if that just entails going to her doctor’s appointments, but she’s made it clear that she will never do such.

She is a leech. She leans heavily upon the community, bemoaning her every problem, and she saps up so much attention and pity that it’s amazing that she’s yet to burst like an overbloated tick. What’s more amazing, at least to me, is that she has her lapdogs; people who, while never quite rational, seem to be capable of thinking (sometimes) by themselves. So when they jump to her every command and echo her every pitied comment, it surprises me. Those who are new to the game do not know; they often learn in time and drift away after that. But there are those who have been there for as long as I have, and yet they still do not seem to see that she is a hopeless case, doomed forever to her own mind unless she clears up; and she cannot be cleared up by us; we’ve tried too hard to get nowhere.

Perhaps the best solution would be to ignore her, and for a time, I did. She left where I remained, and the arrangement pleased me, for I was no longer obligated to try to help. And when she returned, not too long ago, still filled with the same complaints and grievances, it was almost as if we had met for the first time again. My older wish was gone, and I truly did feel sorry for her; she does, after all, have problems that she cannot handle by herself (although she must be the one to take the crucial steps; we can hold her hand through them, but we cannot push her through the hoops and hope for a good result). But quickly, ever so quickly, it fell back into the old pattern: every day, she would whine. Every day, she would refuse to get help.

It irked me, but I intended to stay clear this time. Curiosity would be my own fault, should I continue to listen, and otherwise, I could tune her out easily enough. Intentions do not always work out though.

My fiancé, forever a gentle soul, attempted to help in his logical, rational, completely stubborn mule ways; he would give advice and philosophy time and time again, and though perhaps he was not the most effective at communicating it, his advice was sound, his wishes good. But, as independent as he is, he doesn’t see the point in attempting to prevent people from making drastic choices; past a certain point, he deems, people should be entitled to taking their own lives if they truly wish to and nothing has helped them. Right or wrong, it’s his opinion, and while he never tries to force it upon someone, he will express it.

Still, he did not bring this up with her until she wished she had cancer. This is one of the few things that will touch an emotional cord with him, and he told her straight out that she was being selfish in wishing such when so many people who wished to live did not have a choice; that it was selfish for her to wish to die without taking responsibility while gaining more pity. He advised her, upon his own beliefs, that if she truly wanted to die, she should die; there was nothing stopping her.

The woman, who has been threatening suicide for over a year, went ballistic. She accused him of not being human, having the “emotional range of a teaspoon” (his emotional range runs much deeper than hers, from what I’ve seen), and of being hypocritical. She told him to go to hell, and one of her ever-handy lapdogs jumped in with a profane choice of words. The hate exhibited was severe; her reaction to something she didn’t like overdone. Then, to turn it even more, she used it to gain more sympathy, returning to her whining, emotionally wrought self.

Saving her just wasn’t worth it.

Roxane

It does not belong in file 13 at ALL. This is great, and, having known such a person myself for a looong time, I really felt this piece! you just seemed to put the words in my mouth. However, you desperately need to shorten your sentences in many places, below it just an example. Keep working with it, although I can see you already have.

Remedy

Thanks. I'm glad it's something that you can relate to, as I was hoping that some people would understand.

I didn't catch some of those run-ons. Eep. I'm bad with that, especially when writing emotions. Thanks for pointing it out. I'll shorten some of those when I edit.

I'm afraid it'll have to stay File 13; although I might expand it and tweak it for myself, everyone in there is a real person, and the events are real. Anyone who's been around me for long enough can easily identify the leech woman, which could be problematic.

joifulartist84

This "she" sounds a good deal like an ex-roommate of mine.... that I had while living in Ohio, incidentally. I completely relate to the narrator.

Joi

dhyre

Wow, I mean I only had enough time to read the first half and leave you this comment. What do you think you're doing posting this in File 13 or even posting it at all? Not to be mean or anything, but I have met a writer or two in my time who have tried to steal other's work, especially when it is better than their own.

This is a piece that explains the narrator so well that we completely understand her point of view, her experience but we can not predict what she is going to do next.

I think that if you aren't going to do anything with this piece now, save it for later. It is amazing and any other writer couldn't do it the same as you have. This feels like one of those moments where your brain isn't involved in the writing, your heart is. And, though others may be critical it shows an us that you are an extremely talented writer when your heart is involved.

Take it home, put it in a box. And one day, you'll find a use for it.

dhyre

__________________
*** correction: Writing is about individuality, breaking the rules, testing new grounds, listening to ourselves. That's why we do it, to show we are individuals, we are human and because everyone's idea deserves a chance, even if you don't think so.

billypurkiss

I completely agree with everything Dhyre Has just voiced!
Good luck!

Billy
xx

__________________
"I want booze! I DEMAND Booze!" Withnail And I
"Gravity is merely an object of imagination" Mr.Happy
"Running away is one of life's mere necessity's" Southend-on-sea's tramp.

SamsonNorth

I think the emotions are coming through loud and clear. The switch from past to present back to past tense is distracting from the emotions you are trying to get the reader sucked into, but I get the sense that this wasn't something you were trying to make perfect before you posted it. Overall, I think that most people can relate to the feelings you are trying to convey and most people have had these sort of feelings before.

I also agree that you should hang on to it for a while to see if something else develops in your mind from it.

overall, very nice!

Remedy

Thanks, y'all.

In response to why I put it here: as I stated before, I'm not going to do anything with it (at least now... if she dies, I don't know what that does for legality issues). And as for posting it at all... Not to sound arrogant (I manage, I've been told, to sound arrogant really quite a lot; I don't mean such), but this is how most of my writing is, at least in quality (not that it shows when I'm just typing around here). Lots of years of practicing, figuring out what works and what doesn't... If I restricted my postings to work that I thought would be unattractive for potential theft (I have had that happen before, by the by), I really wouldn't post anything. But thank you.

I will take a look at the verb tenses, SamsonNorth. It seemed a bit unclear to me as I was writing, but I didn't want to stop and look it over. Looking back... yeah, it's confusing, even to me.