Young Writers Society

It's the Christmas season, it's supposed to be full of joy and smiles. The green scent of evergreen trees and the sound of carols are supposed to fill our days. Instead I find mine to be full of despair, new secrets coming out of the dark every time I open my eyes. I cry myself to sleep night after night, my brown pillow case seems permanently stained by tears. But also in every Christmas season is my birthday, and my present this year was beyond what I expected.
I was fourteen years and three-hundred and sixty-four days old when I found out my father was a cocaine addict. How's that for a happy birthday? It's like a lyric from Not Afraid by Eminem, "It's like a 'fuck you' for Christmas.", because that's exactly what it feels like. This really is supposed to be the happiest time of the year and honestly I feel like the world is trying to send me a message. I'm not supposed to be happy, it's not allowed.

In the midst of all this I don't know where to turn. I don't feel like this is anything I could talk about with my friends. Is it wrong of me to be afraid of what they would think? I can imagine it now, "That awkward moment when your friend tells you her father is addicted to hardcore drugs.". I really can trust my friends but this is something on an entirely different level. I even feel distant from my faith. God why am I being punished so? What ever did I do to deserve this, what did my family do to deserve this? How could anyone deserve this?

I am so full of emotion right now. One second I am white-hot with anger and the next I am smiling and laughing, forgetting momentarily about the pain. Except then the memory hits me again like a freight train, and the tears come pouring again. Viscious cycle it is. I wish I could just un-hear the words that forever scarred me. I wish I could take back going to a friends after-school to work on a Science project. I wish I would have just taken bus straight home from school that day. Maybe I could have avoided that car ride with my mother that seemed to last hours. Maybe she would have waited to tell me my father needs help. Or better yet, maybe it wouldn't be true.

A really in-depth piece of work. I was really touched, even though, odds are, it's not real. Still, touching is what is usually aimed for in the creative writing industry, so kudos.

In this one line:
Viscious cycle it is. I wish I could just un-hear the words that forever scarred me.

Is 'Viscious' supposed to be 'Vicious' maybe?

Also, I adore the last line. "Or better yet, maybe it wouldn't be true."
That's the best bit of the whole thing. I love it. Love it, love it, love it.

NightWriter x

Jemjive, hi.

Just here to lend a quick little review for you! Allow me to jump right into things.

Now, to be simple, it seems as if you started this story off in one way and morphed it into a sort of rant with no structure. Your ideas and feelings were very here-and-there as they might be in a journal or diary entry. So for this, I have to say I wasn't as big a fan of the fashion in which it was written.

Also, the speaker seems to wallow on in a sulky sort of mood the entire piece. You give no steady rhyme nor reason for the reader to feel sorry for the speaker; the speaker seems to be handing it to the audience for them to see outright. There's no incrementing in the divulging of thoughts and feelings here. Which I found a shame, but hold no doubt in thinking you can perhaps turn this fact around some way or another in your editing.

At one point, the speaker says they are "so full of emotion". As a writer, it should come more naturally to evoke these feelings of emotion through the text alone. You should not have to simply mention it so bluntly. It loses its meaning that way. Similar type of thing here with the following line:

One second I am white-hot with anger and the next I am smiling and laughing, forgetting momentarily about the pain.

You never give any solid incentive for the audience to believe why the narrator would ever be happy and smiling the next moment. As a reader I'm only really aware of one side. And that's the bluntly miserable sad side you portray here. But anyhow, now that I'm on it, I figure I may point out a couple more nitpicky things for you.

The green scent of evergreen trees

It's always a bit redundant to repeat the same word in such close proximity. You say green twice here, but writing just plain The scent of evergreen trees is fine enough. though plain, perhaps you could describe the type of scent filling the atmosphere in some other way. Elaborate your imagery to dress up the scene.

But also in every Christmas season is my birthday,

Sentences like this read too choppy and forced. Like you obviously know the words you want to get out, you just struggled to phrase yourself smoothly. I'd consider rephrasing yourself, tweaking sentences so they sound a lot better. Or at least, make things more precise to what you mean to say.

How's that for a happy birthday?

Right here you seem to stray from your active story telling standpoint. You place yourself on a sort of level as if you're speaking in nonchalance. Like you would in a conversation with a friend. By doing this, I really think you downplay any severity present in your story. Just a small nitpick, but stylistically I really think you could do a lot better here.

It's like a lyric from Not Afraid by Eminem, "It's like a 'fuck you' for Christmas(,)" because that's exactly what it feels like.

I crossed out the part that bugged me here. No need to explain so much.

Well, I hope any of this helps! Feel free to let me know if you have any questions concerning my review.

-Smylin'