View Full Version : Something I Can Never Have

August 21st, 2010, 12:36 PM
Something I wrote a loooooooooooooong time ago. It's very bad and I don't even really like it, but I've been pressured by my friend to post it here, so.

Her picture stares at him from his bedside table. Cool, forever unblinking blue eyes lock on him. He turns his head. He keeps forgetting to rid himself of that picture. He doesn't have the right to look at her anymore. He doesn't need the memories, the recurring nightmares.

Her words echo in his ears as he picks up the picture frame. I don't need you. I don't love you. I don't want you. He cringes and shakes his head. No. No, he doesn't want to remember that! Eyes close. Teeth clench. Ears ring.

He thinks of happier times. Times when everything was good. Times when his world wasn't crashing around him. The pain starts to fade. He opens his eyes. Blue ones meet his again. He feels relieved. He is down to just one thing. The picture. He is scared. What happens when the picture fails to help? What does he do?

No. No, he will not worry himself with that thought. The picture will do just fine. He looks down at the photograph. Eyes trace familiar sights. A smile. Brown hair. Ocean eyes. He grins. She always was beautiful.

Suddenly, his heart is painted with anger, hatred, guilt. She didn't want him anymore. She didn't need him. She had moved on and left him in a pool of emotions and thoughts. Left him with a grey heart.

Tears. Salty water hits the glass in his hand. Deep breath. Thumbs smudge the liquid, caressing the face of what was once his world. He looks up. Grey walls. Black carpet. Dirty mattress. Stained curtains. It seems different. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know why. Yet, it is the same sight he has known for years. Something has changed. It seems...empty.

He sighs. Closes his eyes. Her face seems as though it is burned on the back of his eyelids. He squeezes them shut tighter. Her image will not leave. Eyes fly open. Brown hair and blue eyes are projected on every wall. Breath comes quicker. Movements more rapid. He screams. She has invaded his thoughts, invaded his room, invaded his world.

He throws the frame to the ground. Glass breaks. He trembles. Whimpers. Calms himself. He leans down and grabs the picture. Broken glass digs into his skin. Blood pools, crimson liquid blends with black carpet. The picture is ruined. He panics. No picture?

Tears in the photo paper remind him of himself. Remind him of the torn heart she left him with. He stands. The photograph is of no use to him. The broken frame falls into the trash can, followed by her face. He doesn't want to see it anymore. It is just a fading reminder of who he used to be.

He slides onto the dirty mattress. Eyes close again. He loses himself in deep slumber. He doesn't dream of her. He doesn't think of her. He just wants something he can never have.

Brendan M
August 21st, 2010, 01:29 PM
Her words echo in his ears as he picks up the picture frame. I don't need you. I don't love you. I don't want you. He cringes and shakes his head. No. No, he doesn't want to remember that! Eyes close. Teeth clench. Ears ring.

I got goosebumps when I read the part in italics.

After that, I made a mental note that you write intense pieces very, very well. The quickness of the read and then the sudden stops everywhere make for a confusing and emotional experience. I think, from this piece at least, that's your greatest strength.

But, that said, I think I have to say it may also be your greatest weakness. It gets too repetitive and, after a while, I can't really relate to the piece any more. As a whole, I think this is better as a rough draft to what could be a spectacular piece, as opposed to a completed piece.

Thanks for posting this, though. Your friend was right to push you to do it. May I ask a question?

August 21st, 2010, 02:50 PM
Thank you for the feed back, it means a lot. :D

And sure, ask away!

August 21st, 2010, 05:42 PM
I enjoyed this, and you have an interesting style with this piece that I think is appropriate for this kind of one-scene story. You definitely convey emotion without being too melodramatic, either, which I think is a hard balance to maintain. I do have to agree with Brendan, though, and say that it became hard to relate after a while. I think this is easily fixable. I found that there weren't enough specifics in the story to make the characters feel real outside of this main emotional turmoil (and I say "characters" because the girl counts, too). Maybe you kept it general on purpose so that people can relate easier if they've been in a similar situation, but they can relate just as well, and maybe even more so, if these characters seem unique. You could give them names, talk about some specific physical features of the girl (other than hair and eye color), mention what she's doing in the picture, when the picture was taken (was he with her?), etc.

He thinks of happier times. Times when everything was good. Times when his world wasn't crashing around him.
Like what times? How was she then? Why was he so happy?

Making changes like that will make this narrator who's been through what a lot of people have been through into an original person. Otherwise, your pacing and diction work really well. Hope this helps.

August 21st, 2010, 05:48 PM
Thank you for the feed back! I agree, I could probably develop the characters more to give them more of a feel so others can relate more to them. In fact, I might take a look at this later and flesh it out a bit.

Anyway, thank you very much for reading and the constructive criticism! It's very helpful. :)

Brendan M
August 21st, 2010, 06:18 PM
Thanks. What age are you now and when did you make this?

August 21st, 2010, 06:20 PM
I'm currently fourteen. I wrote this maybe a year or two ago? So really, not that long, but it's still been a while since I wrote it.

August 21st, 2010, 11:54 PM
At 14 a year or two back can seem like a loooooooooong time ago. My only real complaint about the story is the lack of detail about 'Times when everything was good.'

August 22nd, 2010, 01:47 AM
Wow, fourteen? This is damn good for fourteen, let alone thirteen or twelve.

August 22nd, 2010, 09:54 PM
What is bad about this?? This is GOOD! Everything you write is superb, and I mean that. I agree with mandax; like I said before, you're only 14 and doing this kind of work. You never cease to amaze me. Good job.

August 23rd, 2010, 04:34 AM
I agree with Brendan M, intensity is obviously one of your talents in writing. When I read this, I thought that you were much older, because it seems too deep and sophisticated for a 12-14 year old! I'm fourteen years myself, and I certainly can't write this good. This piece shows talent.

August 23rd, 2010, 04:35 AM
:) Thanks, Fox!

And thank you, Ripka! :) It means a lot for you to have enjoyed it. :)