delete please

sfdf

Wow. It was ... intense. Perhaps to the point of being too much so. I like how you're kind of confused about it, not having much information, so there's tons of suspense. But I'd like to know SOMETHING about the background.

Aha. That's the mystery of it all. The reader has to guess, but you should be able to guess some of it, for example, she's certainly not sane.

Thanks for the comment. This site has changed so much. Wow.

I agree with CK Lynn about it being intense, especially at the last part. I really like that it was intense though.

Anyway, I think what I liked best was the comparison with the Bratz dolls and the breathing "plastics". Also, the imagery in the beginning was great.

I’m wrapped in a blanket of eerie silence, it hugs me, whispering sweet nothings into my ears.

I love that as an opening sentence, but the comma after 'silence' should be a semicolon, methinks.

It’s raining outside, although I can’t hear anything, I can only watch the tears from the sky running down the glistening glass.

You have a comma after 'anything' and...I dunno, it just doesn't seem right. I think you should replace it with a period.

I press my nose against the window; its frozen glass sends a shiver through my nose and down my spine.

'its frozen glass' sounds awkward. Maybe say 'I press my nose against the window, and the frozen glass sends a shiver...'

[quote]
I stare deeply, watching ordinary people fly past, as if there was nothing wrong. Why are they out when they are sad? Maybe there was nothing partially wrong with them. Maybe it was me. I have always wondered if I was the only real person on earth. Maybe I was, maybe those tears the sky is crying is for me. Every breath, every touch I feel – do they feel too? Would they feel the cold sensation at the tip of their nose if theirs were pressed against this cold surface like I do? Or is it all an illusion?

“Don’t be silly, they feel the same as we do.”

But yet how can I be so sure? Maybe I am god, kept in secret from the world who will only find my true potential when I am truly ready. These other beings, these illusions, are just a copy of myself, living everyday lives with no real ambition, no real emotion. I tear myself from the window. A sense of warmth ran through me as if the hot tap had turned on. I turn to the lone bed placed on the far corner of the room. Its white sheets is almost invisible against the white walls. I shuffle towards it, my feet barely lifting off the carpeted floor which is also white, well almost. It had turned creamy, perhaps from overuse or maybe it was fed of being the same as everything else, as if it fancied a change.

I certainly know what I am doing, I’m breathing, moving, blinking, but do they? Maybe they are mimicking me, copying me, learning from me. I could be their controller. I could. I am. But yet how can I control them? My mind? What would I do?

I hear discussions sometimes, between these illusions, about plastics. They say these “plastics” are horrible things. That they are shallow, they wear a lot of make up and have too many fake friends. They say their beauty is fake, and they depend on rich men to pay for their lifestyle. Sometimes I think they’re jealous as they are only illusions and these plastics seem to be getting a better off life. But how would they know? They’re not real. They have no idea.

“How can you be so stupid? They aren’t plastics. It’s just an expression, they’re like you! They aren’t any different.”

I place myself down on the hard mattress and wrap my arms around my skinny frame, rocking back and forward. My minds muddling, it’s tightening into a tight ball of confusion and hurt. They are plastics, I believe them, I wouldn’t lie so neither will they. You see those “Bratz” dolls, aren’t they made of plastic? Yet they don’t talk. Maybe there is a switch, a switch to turn them off, to stop them from talking. Maybe you get the same for those larger versions. If you search hard enough, there will be a switch, and you can turn them off and never need to listen to them again, and I’ll be seen as the God I really am, my illusions will be proud. Just as I would be.

“Now you’re just taking the mick. There aren’t any switches, they are real. Just like you, they aren’t plastic; they’re made from skin and bones, muscle and fat.”

I shake my head, repeating the same word over and over again until it sounds unfamiliar.

“No, no, no…”

What about those helpless people who has no home? Who lives on the streets with only the basic supplies and clothing which only just manage to cover their wasted bodies? No one would want to be in their position. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I had done something naughty, and now people were being punished for my mistake. Yet if I control them, then maybe I can think them out of poverty, out of their own living hell. I think hard, my eyes scrawl up, my nostrils are flaring. A sharp pain electrocutes me in the head, I’m spinning, I overloaded. I am still not strong enough, I can not save them all.

“You’re sounding pathetic, you’re a mad woman. You can’t think them out of poverty!”

The tears begin to rain out my eyes, I’m sobbing, hiccupping every so often as I carry on whispering to myself. I’m never wrong; I’m a good girl, why don’t you believe me? My world is spinning. I’m laughing now, I can’t stop. The salty tears are falling into my mouth, I’m becoming hysterical. The world is spinning faster, it’s becoming blurry, I fall forward and a feel a horrible hard crack, almost blackening me out.

What would my illusions do if they found me lying on the floor? Would they disappear or try and save me? Would the world be a better place? Will the homeless have a roof? Central heating? A fridge full of food?

“It doesn’t matter if you die. You’re not their god, you’re not special.”

Don’t lie to me, I am special. I know I am, everyone worships me, I know they do…

“No one knows who you are, they don’t care, you’re a failure.”

They do. They do. You make me want to drown in my tears, I have my reason to live, don’t take it away from me. I know they know me, I know they think I’m great. I am their god…

Whoa. The concept reminds me of a book I read years ago, but I don't know what it was called. The details seem surreal- like when you've got a high fever and everything off.

Great personification in the first paragraph. The vivid details and figurative speech throughout area great contrast to the sense that the reader;s scope is extremely limited.

It would help if you cleared up the setting a bit.

Whoa. So, obviously the girl is off of her rocker and she has some kind of split-personality disorder, or else some random person is in the room with her. Am I correct in assuming that she's in some kind of facility? That's the feel I get from it, because you talked about the white walls and such.

I think I'm just biased, because I only write in past tense, but I think it would've been a lot more effective if it had been written in past tense. It was kind of halting to read, but maybe it has to do with something else. I like the descriptions of her thoughts, though. I know this might sound a little insane, but sometimes I wonder if all of the other people in the world are real, you know? When I was little, I used to believe that everyone was an alien and would take off their human suits once I was out of sight. XD I was a pretty paranoid kid.

Overall, I thought it was good. Not amazing or anything, but it was an interesting read to say the least.

That's how my idea came from. It makes you wonder, is everything around us actually real? Or is it a figment of our own made up imaginations? Just like dreams.

I thought it would be better in present tense as you would feel as if you were really there, at the time, as if you were feeling it more. Thank you for the comments. It means a lot. (:

i wasn't captivated, but i think it's cool that you're asking these questions. unlike most stories on this site, this feels honest and personal. i like the idea of someone needing desperately to be "god." i like that nothing's really resolved at the end, there's just more questions, and you don't satisfy the reader. this kind of "fiction" will always be worth reading.

i really liked it...especially that it was in present tense since i have severe issues writing in present tense...i also liked that it was very intense...YAY FOR INTENSITY!!!

LOL! Thanks. I didn't realise how intense it was. Sorry.