Self-Loathing (474 Words) - Writers Forum

murdershewrote2005 · 10-07-2007, 12:01 PM

“I can’t stand to even look at you anymore,” she says.

Tears run down the woman’s face, mascara trails as thick pancake syrup and black as the used up oil her Daddy used to drain from lawn mowers like viscous, sticky blood.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks. “Is it so difficult just to be like everyone else?”

The lawn mower howls and smoke spills out of the engine like a confession. Daddy gives it kick, and calls it a ‘son of a bitch’.

“You know what’s wrong with you?” she screams. “You’re such a fucking good person. Well, I don’t want to be a good person anymore.”

Lush green grass, huddles together in apprehension and says a final prayer before being whacked by a ‘son of a bitch’ in a whirring puff of smoke.

“I’m going to be a virgin forever because of you,” she bellows. “just because he never loved you, doesn’t mean no one ever will.”

Daddy smells of grease and dirt and smoke and his hands are black. The hole he left in her heart is big enough to hide a child inside, but she leaves it gaping and raw like ribs cracked open and left unattended on an operating table.

“You know what you’re problem is?” She says. “You’re afraid you’re going to be just like him someday and your mother will have another, better reason to hate you.”

The little girls thrusts a stick between the carbon saturated molecules of a pan of used oil, stirring it so the rain water will get swallowed by the darkness just like she did, and spat back out somewhere on the other side of love to figure out why it was never good enough.

“See this?” she shoves her arm into the woman’s face. “This is what happens when you let him win.”

She counts the marks on her arm. One for every time he hit her, his eyes screaming revenge over something she had no hand in. One…two…three…

“You should be ashamed of this,” She tells her. “It’s never going to solve anything. We’re still going to be stuck just like this.”

Cotton flaps in the wind, delicate, and graceful. Daddy sits atop his ‘son of a bitch’ and the grass screams in agony as it shoots out the side of the lawn mower and into another dimension. That’s what the little girl imagines anyway. She covers her face with a blanket, wishing desperately to join the grass in it’s journey.

“I am a fucking good person,” she cries. “But I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

Terry cloth induces darkness, and the girl in the mirror disappears.

~~

Hating yourself becomes second nature if you do it long enough. I know. The girl in the mirror knows too, because I cast her out of my life and all it took was a towel. She makes me angry, that girl, always staring back like she has something to say, but never saying it. She lets me scream at her, never defending herself until the towel falls and it’s too late. There is something to be said about silence though; it’s a way of overlooking things, like the way her eyes fade to blue when she’s sad, or the how we can stare at each other and it’s as if we’re both looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” I whisper. “How can I not know you?”

I reach out, my fingers bushing against the tips of hers, the world becoming perfectly symmetrical with itself. Every curve, every angle meeting one another and morphing into one big picture. Her eyes frown, her lips, slightly parted, breath slipping through them one after another in a pre-determined rhythm.

snorrie · 10-07-2007, 02:01 PM

Your prose is filled with metaphors denser than the black of night. I just can't take this type of writing as if it were caster oil. The images stick to me like white on rice. Maybe if you could easy up on them like the liquor I always drink to much of then maybe your prose will not be drunk and dizzy like a fly that's been swated buy a fly swater. Know what I mean like a kick in the head?

murdershewrote2005 · 10-07-2007, 02:10 PM

uhhhh...Thanks?

snorrie · 10-07-2007, 02:15 PM

I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself. Really though, ease up on that stuff. It really brings down the prose and cheapens it.

Arkalem · 10-07-2007, 02:20 PM

Snorrie,

I'm new here, so farbeit for me to get confrontational...but....

I feel like perhaps your criticism could have been less sharply edged. Part of why I joined this site was so that I would be able to gain some constructive criticism for my works in progress. Your ad hominem thrust was not constructive in any way.

Murder,

Allow me to attempt a rewording of the gist he was reaching for.

Your prose is eloquent enough, and the emotions certainly spill through, but your structure doesn't differ enough. Falling into the rote pattern you have developed, with each and every noun having some sort of descriptory analogy isn't really neccessary.

I like the story, I feel for the young lady (and..oddly enough for her father), but I would consider re-working a few of the metaphors.

Now, please take into consideration that I'm a novice writer, so take my 'advice' with a HUGE grain of salt.

=)

-Arkalem

murdershewrote2005 · 10-07-2007, 02:29 PM

OKay guys. Try this. I edited.

PS: Its based on a true story. Not that you needed to know.

Arkalem · 10-07-2007, 02:39 PM

Okay...

With a quick edit there, the story feels much more powerful.

There is a real sense of pain, and it is compounded by the seperation between the girl and the father. He's outside, in his own world, completely oblivious to the pain he has caused and the battle she's fighting.

Strong work.

-Arkalem

snorrie · 10-07-2007, 02:39 PM

Well, Arkalem. Sorry to rub you the wrong way...well, not really. Excuse me, but if you looked at what I wrote afterwards, you would have seen that it was all in fun. And if you can't take criticism, then maybe you shouldn't try to write. I'm nothing compared to what real critics will do to your work. And they're the ones you have to be concerned about. I'll be looking for your work and will give you the real deal, not some sugar coated gumflapping that you expect from this site. Have a nice day.

murdershewrote2005 · 10-07-2007, 02:53 PM

You werent bothering me Snorrie. I've had much worse. And I knew you were joking around but in a serious way. Thanks to both of you.

And you never said snorrie. better or no?

Arkalem · 10-07-2007, 03:03 PM

Snorrie,

Once again, I'm not trying to force a confrontation with you. Instead, I'm trying to open the gates for criticism that is worthwhile and not just inflammatory vitriol.

I have a story listed under the Critique and Advice section. Please, feel free to offer your criticism. I ask only that you do it in a civil manner.

And no, Snorrie, I dont have to worry about 'real critics'. I write as a passtime, not as a career. I do it because I enjoy it. I'm not incredibly interested in publication.

Thank you, I will have quite a nice day.

snorrie · 10-07-2007, 03:11 PM

Get rid of them. You would have a strong piece if you could use another way to describe things. Similies, metaphos, and whatever else, are not bad when used sparingly. They can acutally be quite powerful. But when they are abused, then it hurts the prose emensly. Rather than taking the time to develop the piece you use the quick way out.

Quote:

“I can’t stand to even look at you anymore,” she says.

Tears run down the woman’s face, mascara trails as thick pancake syrup and black as the used up oil her Daddy used to drain from lawn mowers like viscous, sticky blood.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks. “Is it so difficult just to be like everyone else?”

The lawn mower howls and smoke spills out of the engine like a confession. Daddy gives it kick, and calls it a ‘son of a bitch’.

“You know what’s wrong with you?” she screams. “You’re such a fucking good person. Well, I don’t want to be a good person anymore.”

Lush green grass, huddles together in apprehension and says a final prayer before being whacked by a ‘son of a bitch’ in a whirring puff of smoke.

“I’m going to be a virgin forever because of you,” she bellows. “just because he never loved you, doesn’t mean no one ever will.”

Daddy smells of grease and dirt and smoke and his hands are black. The hole he left in her heart is big enough to hide a child inside, but she leaves it gaping and raw like ribs cracked open and left unattended on an operating table.

“You know what you’re problem is?” She says. “You’re afraid you’re going to be just like him someday and your mother will have another, better reason to hate you.”

The little girl thrusts a stick between the carbon saturated molecules of a pan of used oil, stirring it so the rain water will get swallowed by the darkness just like she did, and spat back out somewhere on the other side of love to figure out why it was never good enough.

“See this?” she shoves her arm into the woman’s face. “This is what happens when you let him win.”

She counts the marks on her arm. One for every time he hit her, his eyes screaming revenge over something she had no hand in. One…two…three…

“You should be ashamed of this,” She tells her. “It’s never going to solve anything. We’re still going to be stuck just like this.”

Cotton flaps in the wind, delicate, and graceful. Daddy sits atop his ‘son of a bitch’ and the grass screams in agony as it shoots out the side of the lawn mower and into another dimension. That’s what the little girl imagines anyway. She covers her face with a blanket, wishing desperately to join the grass in it’s journey.

“I am a fucking good person,” she cries. “But I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

Terry cloth induces darkness, and the girl in the mirror disappears

.
__________________

Mermaid on the breakwater · 10-07-2007, 03:36 PM

Snorrie, if you insulted someone's child what would you expect in return? Writing is like a brain child, if you are that harsh and completely unfair then you won't win any friends. More likely a slap.

Usually, a strong use of metaphor and an overly romantic or overly imagery based prose is the sign of a very talented author, but an inexperienced one. So go with confidence murdershewrote and keep refining and honing your skills. Despite it's many flaws, an entertaining read, which is all anybody cares about anyway. Well done.

snorrie · 10-07-2007, 03:49 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mermaid on the Breakwater
Writing is like a brain child,

Inexperienced as well? I'm tired of people sugarcoating everything on this sight. Everyone says how wonderful all the works on this sight are. Well, they're not and that's what we come here for--to better our skills. I'll bet you're one of those people who use timeouts for children. Oh no, I have to go stand in a corner...the horror. Good luck with your metaphors and wonderful writing. I'll take the blunt truth everytime. I have a tough mentor and she's helped me out with cold hearted truths even though they stung like the acid rain on a hot summer's day during a hail storm with razor cuts all over my body like a thousand romans run me down like the dog that I am. Have a nice day.

murdershewrote2005 · 10-07-2007, 03:51 PM

Thanks Mermaid. I'm more of a poetry person usually. Wrote this for a contest on my usual site. And I'm actually more experienced than you think. Just not used to writing in this particular style as the contest is themed. So yeah. THanks fo reading!

Mermaid on the breakwater · 10-07-2007, 03:59 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by snorrie

Inexperienced as well? I'm tired of people sugarcoating everything on this sight. Everyone says how wonderful all the works on this sight are. Well, they're not and that's what we come here for--to better our skills. I'll bet you're one of those people who use timeouts for children. Oh no, I have to go stand in a corner...the horror. Good luck with your metaphors and wonderful writing. I'll take the blunt truth everytime. I have a tough mentor and she's helped me out with cold hearted truths even though they stung like the acid rain on a hot summer's day during a hail storm with razor cuts all over my body like a thousand romans run me down like the dog that I am. Have a nice day.

Two words would just about do here: Obnoxious prick.