Addiction

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"So, before we pray, I would like to say that this year's First United Methodist Youth Retreat has been wonderful. It's so amazing that all of you could come. Okay, now we're going to have a moment of silence. If you feel that God is moving you to say something, please don't be afraid to say it. You don't need to bow your heads. Just let the spirit move you." My youth pastor, Diana, finished her speech and looked around at all of us. I did the same, knowing that after I spoke it was more than likely none of them would ever speak to me again. If I didn't do this now I knew I'd never be able to do it ever. I raised my voice, "I have something to say." 

Everyone in our circle turned to me. I took good long looks at their faces. Would they even be my friends after I say what I'm about to say? I wondered. Seeing them, Danny, Chrissy, Michael, Sahara, Anna Maria, Justice, Liberty, and all the others looking at me silently tore at my heart. How will I tell them, when this could be goodbye. They'd hate me, I know it. 

"I know why I'm doing this, telling you," I said. "And I know that none o you will ever look at me the same way again...." Liberty cut me off, "Come on Jubilee, it can't be that bad!" I glared at her. It had been hard enough to start, and it's going to be even harder if Libby acts like herself. I'm sorry Libby, I thought. I wasn't trying to be rude, so it was only a light glare. "Please let me finish." I asked. She motioned for me to continue, and I nodded my thanks. "Don't interrupt me, please, or I might not be able to say anything. Do y'all remember when I was gone all last summer, and I told you I was at my grandparents." I waited until they nodded before forcing out the truth, "I lied."

"I wasn't at my grandparents. I was in a rehab center." I stopped again and closed my eyes, fruit not to see their faces or hear their shocked gasps. I pressed on. "The last community football game we had was at the stadium. That night I got injured, sprained my ankle, and I decided to go home. I declined all offers of help, instead being determined that I would make it to my car on my own. God, I wish I had let someone help me that night."

"I was halfway to the parking lot when I realized that I was being followed. I tried to pick up my pace, but with my ankle it was difficult. I don't know who it was I just wanted to get out of there so I broke into a sprint, ignoring the pain. If I had started to run a few seconds earlier, I would have made it. As it was, I was to late. He grabbed me, dragged me to to his car and, well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination." 

I broke off here, taking a deep breath and not paying attention to the stares that were shot at me, the tear filled eyes of my friends and mentors. It was hard. 

"I hated myself. Oh, I knew it wasn't my fault. But I couldn't help but think of the stuff I could have done to stop that from happening. And it kept happening. Over and over again in my mind whether I was asleep or awake. My nights were tortured, my days even more so. I was literally shutting myself down from the world, trying to deal with the pain on my own. I didn't eat. I didn't talk. I was a ghost for two weeks after it happened."

"Then one day when I was the only one home, I went downstairs. I don't know what I was thinking, but I grabbed one of my Step-Dad's beers out of the fridge and the bottle of tylenol out of the medicine cabinet. I downed five or six pills and the beer in less than five minutes. The only way to put this is, I got high. I'm not going to lie to any of you and say that it felt horrible, because the truth is that it felt amazing. Like I could take on the world and no one could stop me. I didn't feel pain, and that was my main relief. I couldn't feel pain." 

I sighed and willed myself not to burst into tears. Glancing around, I could see that everyone was looking at me with horror on their faces. Everyone except the adults. I had told them everything this morning. 

"I didn't mind the hangover I had the next morning, how I had felt that night made it worth it. But then the pain came back. So I did it again, and again, and again. It took two weeks for me to not just want the pills, but to need them, to crave them. I had become an addict. My parents never realized what was happening, because I bought the pills with my own money and I didn't swipe any more beers. I didn't like the taste as much as I liked getting drunk. Oh, Momma and Chris knew something was wrong, and we fought a lot as they tried to get me to tell them what it was, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn. I didn't eat, hardly slept, all I cared about was getting to my next dose. And being high, staying high. That was my whole world."

Some of them were crying, others were looking at me like they didn't even know me anymore. They probably didn't. Before the drugs, I was a whole different person. I could take the looks from just about anyone, but seeing the look in Justice's eyes right then just about killed me. I still pressed on, determined to finish what I had started. 

"One day my parents left for some dinner, and I ran to the bathroom for my pills. Then I looked in the mirror. And what I saw wasn't me. It was my dad. I I looked at the reflection, and I realized that I had become the very person I had sworn I would never be. And I hated myself even more, for becoming just like him. I hate him for what he did to me and Mom, for when he left, when he hit us, even though I was two and don't remember. He got addicted to drugs and left, and now I was just like him. I sat around for hours looking in the mirror, but all I could see was his face, tormenting me, taunting me.  I couldn't take it any more, so I went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and slit both of my wrists."

I took off the thick wrist bands I had grown accustomed to wearing, and held up my hand. The scars may have been a few months old, but you could clearly see the knife lines. In my state of high I hadn't been coordinated enough to make it look clean.  

"My parents found me that night. I spent a week in an ICU unit. Another two in a hospital. Then I went to a rehab center for two months until my doctors were confident I could live without supervision. I'm not an addict anymore, but thanks to the fact that I was, I will always want it again. I will always want another pill, and I will always try to stop myself from giving in every single day. I will always be fighting myself, trying not to give in to the temptation."

They stared at my scars in a type of sick fascination. Justice looked at them once before glancing away. I didn't let him see the pain in my eyes. My boyfriend hates me now. I thought. God, they must all hate me. 

"I'm telling you this because I don't want it to happen to you. If something happens to any of you that tears you apart, don't hide it like I did. Don't let it destroy you. That was my undoing, thinking I could handle it on my own. I couldn't. I can't. I have people helping me now, people I trust. This is the first time I'm telling someone this without being prompted, and it feels good. You'll probably never want to talk to me again, and I understand. I'm not the girl you thought you knew. But learn from my mistakes, don't go down that path. It only takes one time, one high to be you undoing."

I stepped away from them and hung my head, letting a few tears run down my cheeks. None of them said anything, but I could feel their stares. My parents had kicked me out, and I knew that I had lost them to. I steeled myself to leave, when all of a sudden someone wrapped their arms around me and pulled me to their chest. Justice crushed me into his embrace, and wept openly. Soon every on had ahold of me in one large group hug, crying and telling me they were here for me. 

They all pulled back except Justice, but they all stayed within an arms reach. Diana laid her hand on my head and said, "Father show her your way." Closing their eyes they all said a prayer for me. Justice framed my face in his hands, and kissed me lightly, tenderly. He pulled back and rested his forehead on mine. The waterworks I had been doing a bad job of holding back finally went all the way over the dam and my tears erupted, spilling over faster than the Niagara Falls. He held me again, and I realized that I had found a new addiction. One that wasn't harmful, but healthy. And I knew I would keep getting high on it. 





A/N:

I know, it's a crappy ending, but it's a true story. Although Jubilee wasn't kicked out, that was just added for drama. 
Last edited by HorsebackWriter on Sat Aug 06, 2011 2:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know it's last master was Disarmed? Beacause if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

"And quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

~Harry Potter




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Wow. That was a truly moving story. I felt like I was right in the crowd, listening to the story being told, not reading it. It's amazing. There really isn't much bad to say about it. Truly touching. There is only one thing to critique.
HorsebackWriter wrote: I had become addicted to love.
I thought this last line was slightly cheesy for such a deep, emotional story. Other than that. wow! Just wow!




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Aye. I believe you when you say that this is a true story and not for a second did I consider this fake. I won't ask if this is your tale or someone else's. However if it is yours, I will simply say that I hope you feel better now.

I will begin by saying all the emotions regarding the other people listening to the narrator are very realistic. I went to a religious retreat once and I'll admit, everything you say happened. There were people crying, there was hugging, there were people rolling their eyes, and their were people asleep. The narrator herself also shows a great deal of emotion as well as confusion. She is hesitant, she is unwilling to talk about her problems, yet decides that she must. I applaud you for your characters. Overall plot wise, it was good. There were just a few commas and what nots to mention.


Spoiler
"So, before we pray, I would like to say that this year's First United Methodist Youth Retreat has been wonderful. It's so amazing that all of you could come. We're going to have a moment of silence. If you feel that God is moving you to say something, please don't be afraid to say it. You don't need to bow your heads. Just let the spirit move you," My youth pastor, Diana, finished her speech and looked around at all of us. I did the same, knowing that after I spoke it was more than likely that none of them would ever speak to me again. I raised my voice, "I have something to say."

You may want to add a sentence at the end here. Something along the lines of, "But this truth was crushing me and I had to tell them." I feel that no one would willingly shun themself from their friends in this manner. She shows reluctance to tell people about herself, but does it anyways without giving us a reason.

Everyone in our circle turned to me. I took good, long looks at their faces. Would they even be my friends after what I was about to say? I wondered. Seeing them, Danny, Chrissy, Michael, Jean-Paul, Sahara, Misty, Anna Maria, John-Luc, Justice, Liberty, and all the others looking at me silently tore at my heart. This could be goodbye.

"I know why I'm doing this, telling you," I said. "And I know that none of you will ever look at me the same way again...." Liberty cut me off, "Come on Jubilee, it can't be that bad!" I glared at her. "Please let me finish," I asked. She motioned for me to continue, and I nodded my thanks, "don't interrupt me, please, or I might not be able to say anything. Do y'all remember when I was gone all last summer, and I told you I was at my grandparents," I waited until they nodded before going on, "I lied."

Do you want to split this into a dialouge? Or keep it in a pararaph? Generally two people speaking (even if just for one line) are made into a seperate paragraph. Also, the MC knows why she's telling her friends, but we still don't. Jubilee also seems a little code at that last sentence. Is there anyway to soften it?

"I wasn't at my grandparents. I was in a rehab center," I stopped again and closed my eyes, ?fruit? not to see their faces or hear their shocked gasps. I pressed on, "the last community football game we had was at the stadium. That night I got injured. I had sprained my ankle and I had decided to go home. I declined all offers of help, instead being determined that I would make it to my car on my own. God, I wish I had let someone help me that night."

"I was halfway to the parking lot when I realized that I was being followed. I tried to pick up my pace, but with my ankle, it was difficult for me. I don't know who it was. I just wanted to get out of there, so I broke into a sprint, ignoring the pain. If I had started to run a few seconds earlier, I would have made it. As it was, I was to late. He grabbed me, dragged me to to his car and, well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination."

Damn you :( My imagination is running rampant now. Not a pretty sight. It's nice to see MC stop here because it's difficult to tell people about a traumatic experience in one breath. It's also common to see people omit certain details such as this.

I broke off here, taking a deep breath and not paying attention to the stares that were shot at me, tears filled eyes of my friends and mentors. It was difficult to continue.

"I hated myself. Oh, I knew it wasn't my fault. But I couldn't help but think of the stuff I could have done to stop that from happening. And it kept happening. Over and over again in my mind whether I was asleep or awake. My nights were torture, my days even more so. I was literally shutting myself down from the world, trying to deal with the pain on my own. I didn't eat, didn't talk. I was a ghost for two weeks after it happened."

"Then one day when I was the only one home, I went downstairs. I don't know what I was thinking, but I grabbed one of my Dad's beers out of the fridge, and the bottle of tylenol out of the medicine cabinet. I downed five or six pills and the beer in less than five minutes. The only way to put this is, I got high. I'm not going to lie to any of you, and say that it felt horrible, because the truth is that it felt amazing. Like I could take on the world and no one could stop me. I didn't feel pain, and that was my main relief. I couldn't feel pain."

A lot of people don't know why they started. Some people do it for fun, others for the relief. I also like MC's honesty here where she says that it did feel good.

I sighed and willed myself not to burst into tears. Everyone was looking at me with horror on their faces. Everyone except the adults. I had told them everything this morning.

Just a quick question, I thought MC was staring down so that she wouldn't have to see their stares, so how does she know what their facial expressions are like?

"I didn't mind the hangover I had the next morning, how I had felt that night made it worth it. But then the pain was back. So I did it again, and again, and again. It took two weeks for me to not just want the pills, but to need them, to crave them. I had become an addict. My parents never realized what was happening, because I began to buy the pills with my own money and I didn't swipe any more beers. Oh, they knew something was wrong and we fought a lot as they tried to get me to tell them what it was, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn. I didn't eat, hardly slept, all I cared about was getting to my next dose. And being high, staying high. That was my whole world."

Why didn't she swipe any more beers? If she began to buy them herself too, you need to tell us that. Or, did she switch to something even more potent?

Some of them were crying, others were looking at me like they didn't even know me anymore. They probably didn't. Before the drugs, I was a whole different person. I could take the looks from just about anyone, but seeing the look in Justice's eyes right then just about killed me. I still pressed on, determined to finish what I had started.

"One day my parents left for some dinner, and I ran to the bathroom for my pills. Then I looked in the mirror. And what I saw wasn't me. It was my dad. In that instant, I realized that I had become the very person I had sworn I would never be. And I hated myself even more, for becoming, Just. Like. Him. I hate him for what he did to me and Mom, when he left, when he hit us, even though I was two and don't remember. He got addicted and left, and now I was just like him. I couldn't take it any more, so I went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and slit both of my wrists."

If she hated her dad so much and the dad left them, whose beer was she taking then? Her step-fathers? Also, I feel the transition from addict to suicide is too fast. Add a few sentences where Jubilee says she slunk into depression for a few minutes/hours before making the decision to kill herself.

I took off the thick wrist bands I had grown accustomed to wearing and held up my hand. The scars were scraggly, knotted, thick, and still somewhat raw and new looking.

"My parents found me in a pool of my own blood. I spent a week in an ICU unit and another two in a hospital. Then I went to a rehab center for two months until my doctors were confident I could live without supervision. I'm not an addict anymore, but thanks to the fact that I was, I will always want it again. I will always want another pill and I will always try to stop myself from giving in every single day. I will always be fighting myself, trying not to give in to the temptation."

Most powerful paragraph of the story. I will always fight.

They stared at my scars in a type of sick fascination. Justice looked at them once before glancing away. I didn't let him see the pain in my eyes.

"I'm telling you this because I don't want it for you. If something happens to any of you that tears you apart, don't hide it like I did. Don't let it destroy you. That was my undoing, thinking I could handle it on my own. I couldn't. I can't. I have people helping me now, people I trust. This is the first time I'm telling someone this without being prompted and it feels good. You'll probably never want to talk to me again and I understand. I'm not the girl you thought you knew. But learn from my mistakes, don't go down that path. It only takes one time to be you undoing."

Because I don't want it to happen to you? Or is that sentence actually what you meant. If so, I don't full understand it.

I stepped away from them and hung my head, letting a few tears run down my cheeks. I had been unable to hold them back after all. None of them said anything, but I could feel their stares. My parents had kicked me out, and knew that I had lost them too. I steeled myself to leave, when all of a sudden someone wrapped their arms around me and pulled me to their chest. Justice crushed me into his embrace and wept openly. Soon every on had ahold of me in one large group hug, crying and telling me they were here for me.

Kicked out? That's a bit harsh. That opens up the question of, "Where is she living" and "What is she doing about her life now?" While it does add a lot of oomph to the paragraph, you need to consider all the other factors it opens as well. (Though again, if this is really what happened, I won't really question it too much. Still, think about trying to answer one of the questions.) I threw in a sentence at the beginning to see if it sounds better.

They all pulled back except Justice, but they all stayed within an arms reach. Diana laid her hand on my head and said, "Father show her your way." Closing their eyes, they all said a prayer for me. Justice framed my face in his hands, and kissed me lightly, tenderly. He pulled back and rested his forehead on mine. The waterworks I had been holding back, and my tears erupted, spilling over faster than the Niagara Falls. He held me again and I realized that I had found a new addiction. One that wasn't harmful, but healthy. I had become addicted to love.

I thought she had already begun to cry about two paragraphs ago? When the tears began leaking down her face. One last note is that you mention Justice this and Justice that quite often. If you mention a character over and over, it's important to explain to us in some way what the character means to Jubilee. I'm going to assume Jubilee had a crush on him and that's why she avoided him at all costs. All in all, it was a great story and the only main issue I had was that you threw in too many commas. I know that reading it outloud, there should be a pause there, but grammatically speaking, the comma is unnecessary. English is wierd like that.

A/N:

I know, it's a crappy ending, but it's a true story.
~Harry Potter
If words are just letters put together, why do we decide on what they mean?

I step away from the grammar to review the story.

I don't do poetry.




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I have to admit, the thing that made me click on the link to this story was because of the name, "Jubilee." It's my middle name.

I'm glad I clicked on it, though. That was a very emotional story and drew me in right at the beginning. I am an Atheist, though, so at first, I wasn't sure if I should and read on. After a few more paragraphs, though, I was instantly enthralled.

Since you had said this was a true story, I can understand the realism of this. If it wasn't, though, I would be thoroughly impressed. The description, the emotions... It truly tied me in and made me feel like one of those people who were listening to her story. Of course, I am not friends with Jubilee. That would be cool if I were. But, obviously, I am not, which makes the story even more interesting, looking at it from their point of view. It breaks my heart to think of how they must have felt then.

It also broke my heart to think of how Jubilee must have felt, and you should know why.

All in all, I thought this story was very powerful- you did a nice job. Well done.
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Hi there,

OK a couple of things to say here.

HorsebackWriter wrote:Seeing them, Danny, Chrissy, Michael, Jean-Paul, Sahara, Misty, Anna Maria, John-Luc, Justice, Liberty, and all the others looking at me silently tore at my heart. This could be goodbye.


You build this all up nicely. The pace is great, and the climax comes on smoothly. But this line above is a bit awkward. Were did you find these names? Even if these are real names of real people, I still think you should make them all a little generic and relatable. I mean out of all the names I have only met a 'Danny' and a 'Michael.' What I am saying is it's usually a lot easier to imagine characters, and to get a general idea from their name, and from this list I can't imagine too much. You can also just put a few names - the important ones.
eg,
Seeing them all, Danny Michael, Chrissy, Justice and a handful of others.


I think something like that would be better, at the moment it reads like a ledger and really slows it down.

"I know why I'm doing this, telling you," I said. "And I know that none o you will ever look at me the same way again...." Liberty cut me off, "Come on Jubilee, it can't be that bad!" I glared at her.


This seems harsh, it makes your MC sound a bit rude, and all of a sudden I don't like here. If she's going to reproach and glare like this, briefly provide her reasoning, make it clear why she feels she needs to be a little bit aggressive, so we can understand.

something like:

I didn't want to be interrupted. I had started something, and if I am stopped, it may never come out.


Just so we immediately understand her demeanour and realise she isn't usually this harsh.

The last community football fame we had was at the stadium.


Game.


I sighed and willed myself not to burst into tears. Everyone was looking at me with horror on their faces. Everyone except the adults. I had told them everything this morning.


"One day my parents left for some dinner, and I ran to the bathroom for my pills. Then I looked in the mirror. And what I saw wasn't me. It was my dad.In that instant, I realized that I had become the very person I had sworn I would never be. And I hated myself even more, for becoming,Just. Like. Him. I hate him for what he did to me and Mom, when he left, when he hit us, even though I was two and don't remember.


A couple of things here. 'In an instant' is cliche and really doesn't need to be there, if you want to emphasis how quickly you realised use 'suddenly.' But, it's fine without anything there.

Second thing.
Just. Like. Him
This appears really quite amateur. The entire piece is well written except this paragraph. She is telling a story to here friends so the periods are distracting and seem bizarre. You can do one of two things here:

'...Just like him,' I said slowly, drawing breath between words. "I hate him..."

or

'Just- like- him.'

I know what you are trying to convey with the serial periods, but this method for expressing pace in dialogue is, in my opinion, ephemeral and text/chat speak. That's why I say it appears amateurish.


The scars were scraggly, knotted, thick, and still somewhat raw and new looking.


This line is one part great, and one part awful. I get an image of this poor girl and her scarred wrists, but it comes with some particularly flimsy and pointless descriptions.

scraggly = OK
knotted = Rigid
Thick = Poor
Raw = Rigid
New looking = Poor

'New looking' at the end almost made laugh, its like when someone is talking and they start describing something and then they can't produce a decent adverb so they say something silly, that always ends in 'ing.' That seems to be the case here, but you have had time to write this and to think about something better. Use a thesaurus. Fresh, recent, still healing, pink. You can also show us how your MC feels about them all in one eg,

The scars were scraggly, knotted, and still shined pink and raw, a gaunt reminder



"My parents found me in a pool of my own blood.


Also a 'pool of blood' is very cliche.

My parents found me, with blood still creeping across the white bathroom tiles.



One that wasn't harmful, but healthy. I had become addicted to love.



OK, before I go on I will premise by saying, I think this is great and if its all accurate, then it is a very touching story. Now I will get to the bad stuff. When writing creative non-fiction, you can be a little more creative. This doesn't really leave me satisfied in the slightest. The problem is this; You do a wonderful job of showing us this incredible tale, but when it finishes I don't care to imagine what happens after, I don't care about the characters. I feel as though I have missed something. I am not sure if it is because you wanted to stick closely to the actual events, or if you couldn't produce a decent theme to underpin this whole story. But the truth is nothing actually happens. I mean there are a lot of events but it just doesn't affect me.

I think the end line hurts the story more than anything. Leave it open, don't be so cliche to say 'addicted to love.' Say

I had a new addiction
then end it. OR foreshadow more trouble possibly in the future.

I guess this would do for now


Hell, I don't know. You really need to draw upon a common theme in this, I would say redemption but here recovery is too neat. The fact she went to rehab and got better, no relapse, no hard nights vomiting, trembling wanting. And all of a sudden she is better, it is all tied in a neat 'disney' bow. No denouement, no ongoing conflict.

I hope that wasn't too harsh, but the writing itself is good. The story is great but it lacks direction, its too neat and too tight and at the end I felt robbed. It felt the whole time like something was coming, like she would up and leave the church, abandon her religion. Or something. Like I said I'm not sure if you feel bound to the reality of the events or if you simply couldn't deduce a theme. Either way I think this needs a little work and you it will be just dandy.

Hope that helps,
JP

P.S - can I ask if the MC is a close friend? or an associate? or? You don't need to answer if it's too personal I will understand.
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As per my wall

Oh how touching. I critiqued it like a short story, as though something needed to be said. I didn't treat it like a memoir, and in retrospect, I feel a little bit foolish. But the same rules still apply, even if it is a memoir or a diary entry, when you present it in a public forum you owe it to yourself to show us 'you,' it's hard because you expect people to know 'you' but as a character you need to open right up. I think a lot of the issues raised could be resolved if you simply provided reasoning, insight into your mind set, in a natural way. I think you have a knack for great story telling but it's drawn back by the lack of character. I understand issues like this are tough to disclose to strangers, writing about yourself lends itself to a vulnerability that few writers can really experience. But, like I said if you can relive it, if you can bare going through those emotions on the page, then do it, you owe it to yourself.

If you have any questions about anything feel free to PM me
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"Cowards die many times before their deaths; but the valiant will never taste of death but once."
— Julius Caesar