Ambrosia Walk

I can wake up one day and feel like the world is against me, that everything I touch is rubbish, that I'm a lowlife and that I deserve to be alone forever. That I should die. Afterall its what everyone wants, though they may say different, I can see it in their eyes. I have no friends or family in these moments of time. They all hate me. However, weeks or months down the line I will wake and be unstoppable, invincable, powerful, amazing. Nothing can harm me. I will walk into the road without looking and no car will hit me. I am able to jump from buildings and not get hurt. I'm happy beyond belief. If I truly wanted to, I could jump from a plane without a paracuit and survive.
Its my reward after a short eternity in hell.
The last year was the worst of my life so far. I began it in three months of deep depression, where my life was lived from my room. Light was not my friend and I refused to eat more then the bare minimum, why did I deserve to eat? My legs were covered in holes from a small pen knife, which I had been thrusting into my leg and twisting till a lump of flesh would fall to the floor. I was to weak to take my own life, but not to weak to put myself in serious pain. I never really slept. I couldn't sleep, it was impossible, each time I closed my eyes I knew someone would come into my room and kill me in my even more weakened state. My routine was to selfharm, then starve myself of both sleep and food and become a hermit in my own room. I was hospitalised twice in these three months. However, my parents ignored what my Doctors said and just classed it as "teenage problems". They didnt want a freak as a child; eventhough they never said that, I knew they thought it.
However, after this came my payment. Happiness would slowly return and it felt amazing. I lived for days without sleep, afterall I didn't need it. I was unstoppable. I didn't eat because I just didn't need to. Who needed to waste time on food? I spent hours running in the glorious sunshine, from morning till dusk, just running and running wherever I felt like it. I'd normally run to the seafront and back, that was around fourty miles all together. Sometimes when I'd get to the sea I'd just carry on running into it, I'd swim in the freezing cold water, not caring if my skin went blue, then I'd colapse on the beach and sleep till I was once more unstoppable. This happened for around five months. I'd never felt like this for so long, it was fantastic. Though once more I was taken to hospital. This time because I had lost atleast half my body weight, again my parents ignored.
After this depression took over again, this time for six weeks. It wasn't as long as the previous, but it still felt like hell, I still felt unwanted. Everything still felt like it was falling apart. This time I wasn't hospitalised however, though I did become really ill. It was because of food poisoning. I welcomed it. I was close to death and that is what I wanted. I wanted to be able to be tortured as I was a lowlife. I was pathetic. I was a freak. Sadly I recovered.
Once more, after this ended, unbelievable happiness shined through. This time I felt more powerful then I ever had before, it was fantastic, I was maddened by the power it gave me, I was more unstoppable then ever. I was now everyone elses hell. I stole because I couldn't be caught, I took everything I could get my hands on: money, clothes, food, bikes, cars. Anything available. Yes, it was drastic, but it was fun. I never stopped smiling. I never stopped laughing. It wasn't enough though, I had to do more, I had to have that next heartstopping thrill. I had to jump off the cliff.
Next to the beach I always visited was a Forty foot drop. It was called Ambrosia Walk. It was known as the meeting place of the God's in mythology. It was said if you were to jump off it you were welcomed by a feast in the Afterlife, that sounded like my kind of place. So I ran once more. I ran towards the cliff with a crazed smile on my face. It was amazing. When I got to the cliff I stood on the edge, I peered over and saw a blanket of jaggered rocks bellow me. This just made me happier. I knew if I jumped I could fly over them, I could do anything afterall. So I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes, raised one foot and fell into the darkness.
I'm here today because I needed to tell you about my story. You see I'm Bipolar. I wanted to warn you about what can happen if undiagnosed. It is hard to put someone who is Bipolar on medication. As they may, in a depressive state, think there is no point, or if they are in a time of "mania", they will not want to get rid of this feeling. I am now in a wheelchair. I am paralized from the waist down because of my jump off Ambrosia Walk. I am also medicated so I am more stable, but this can't stop the damage that has been done. I just want to warn you. Please be careful. Don't let this happen to you. Be safe.


Ok, I really hope that I haven't offended anyone who may be Bipolar in this piece of writing because I know it can be a touchy subject. I just spoke to my Psychology teacher and I believed it could be a powerful piece to write and I've been working on this for several days now. I am sorry if I have offended, but I do hope you liked this. All comments welcomed.

Take this and make it into a story.

As it stands now, it's a very long, kinda bland monologue.

The first paragraph is okay as it is because it serves as an introduction to the manic nature of your MC. But then it continues in this fashion, just a retelling of the events with no flavor. [I was sad. I stabbed myself. I was a recluse. I went to the hospital. My parents didn't care. Then I got happy. I ran. I swam. I went back to the hospital.]

We don't have enough time to linger on the subject, to feel what we're supposed to feel. A narrated story format would fix that, where you get to measure the pacing and take us through the events with all the proper drama and confusion and emotions. But as it is, you spend one or two sentences on each wild act then move on to the next wild act. Hence, we feel very little from your piece.

And then you end it like it's a public service announcement, which ruins everything. You know, it's like if at the end of Requiem for a Dream, the characters, alive or dead, come to stand next to each other and look at the camera and say, "And this is why you shouldn't do drugs." It's silly. It's unnecessary. It's immature.

Also, please go back and proofread. If you, as the writer and creator of this piece, don't take the time to make sure it looks good, then why should we, the reader?

Examples:
"paracuit"
"colapse"
"Its my reward" (It's my reward)
"blanket of jaggered rocks"
"paralized"
"fourty"
"atleast"
"didnt"
"invincable"

Sargsauce really hit the nail on the head. I'm going to make some small comments, and then basically echo what he said.

My legs were covered in holes from a small pen knife, which I had been thrusting into my leg and twisting till a lump of flesh would fall to the floor. I was too weak to take my own life, but not too weak to put myself in serious pain.

Stabbing yourself with a knife doesn't work like that. I don't suggest trying it out, but a lump of flesh would not come loose and fall to the floor unless you took the time to carve it out, which is disgusting and improbable. More likely she's just scarred and bloody.

Also, like Sarg said, please proofread. To = too.

However, my parents ignored what my Doctors said and just classed it as "teenage problems". They didnt want a freak as a child; eventhough they never said that, I knew they thought it.

I find this impossible to believe. O_o Starving yourself and chopping yourself until your legs have holes are not "teenage problems", and any sane person would know that. Unless you mean that her parents are actually mentally deranged, they would recognize that she has issues. Plus, her parents didn't even care at all that their daughter was killing herself before their very eyes? That's so heartless, and I find that really hard to believe, too. Make sure you're creating realistic people here.

Besides that, this was pretty monotonous. The storyline is basically: I was sad. Then I was happy! Then I was sad again. Then I was happy again! Then I jumped off a cliff." And, please please please don't go all "moral of the story" on us at the end! I'm sorry, but it really cancels out the entire story you just wrote and makes the reader cringe. We're not here to be preached too-- we're here to read something entertaining. Plus, it's pretty evident that being Bipolar really ruined her, and I don't think you need to reiterate it.

My suggestion is to take this out of blog-format and change it into something more story-like. Give this character a name, action, dialogue. Instead of telling us everything that happened to her, show us a seen of her in her depression, then a scene in her mania, and maybe a hospital scene in between. Show us what prompted her to jump off of Ambrosia Walk. Otherwise, this is just hard to relate to or visualize. And finally, proofread! It's riddled with grammar and spelling errors.

Best of luck in editing!

~Evi

Hi, Lily!

This...isn't exactly a story. It's, like the reviewer above me said, a monologue. An almost bland one. The details are given with almost robotic precision, distancing the reader from the character, who is already rather unrealistic.

My legs were covered in holes from a small pen knife, which I had been thrusting into my leg and twisting till a lump of flesh would fall to the floor

Stabbing doesn't work like that, that would be more carving, which is highly unrealistic...and disgusting.

However, my parents ignored what my Doctors said and just classed it as "teenage problems".

Nobody, with a modicum of sanity, would ignore the doctors when seeing their child mutilate herself. Carving, starving, and self-isolating are not even near normal behavior.

This time because I had lost atleast half my body weight, again my parents ignored.

How, how, how could they ignore that? That's so far-fetched. The doctors would have called social services, and proceeded accordingly if she'd really lost HALF of her body weight in such a short time.

Why the moral at the end? It's...it kind of ruins anything you had going.

Overall, this needs serious editing. The character and her situation are unbelievable, and there are grammar/spelling/etc. errors littered everywhere. If you edit this and turn it into a story instead of some monologue-y thing, this could be compelling.

Good luck!
Sporky

And then you end it like it's a public service announcement, which ruins everything. You know, it's like if at the end of Requiem for a Dream, the characters, alive or dead, come to stand next to each other and look at the camera and say, "And this is why you shouldn't do drugs." It's silly. It's unnecessary. It's immature.

This. That final paragraph completely ruined the entire story for me. It just came out of nowhere like an anvil from the blue and crushed all story underneath its megaton weight.

So yes. Seconding what sarge said: expand this into a story. Don't just tell us the events. Show them to us. Make us care. Right now, you only go partway in that, which is a shame. This really could be a very powerful story.

More thoroughly proofreading your work would also be a good idea.