“You know what you look like?” you laughed, your calloused thumb tracing the colors on my face. “A clown.” I turned to the mirror and studied myself, taking in the black, blue, purple, red. You told me that you loved me and that it would heal. You promised it would never happen again.
Your promises are hollow, they mean nothing anymore. You threw me to the ground, screaming as I shook and held my arms over my face. Do you remember how it was before?
I dream about you all the time, I recreate scenes from the past, and we’re in love again, real love. I like to pretend that my dreams are reality and the real world is just a vivid nightmare. It’s okay, I’ll wake up in a few hours and all my bruises will be gone, my hair will be long and shiny, and you’ll kiss me and sing to me again.
It’s nearly every other night now, you leave me bleeding and sweating and running out of aspirin. Wake up, wake up, wake up.
My wounds are familiar, they always seem to be in the same spots and hurt the same way. I’m still your stupid clown, trying to get the bloodstains out of the carpet and bed sheets so it’ll at least look like life is normal again.
--
This is inspired by "Pierrot the Clown" by Placebo
Wow! This is such a nice story to read when you don't know who you are. When I read it, I felt all the sad and heartbreaking emotions in those words. It was short yet impactful and painful. You must be very proud of this short story of yours, keep it up! If someone asked me to cry on the spot, I would read this work of yours. Have a good day, @beccax!
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
Anyway let's get right to it,
“You know what you look like?” you laughed, your calloused thumb tracing the colors on my face. “A clown.” I turned to the mirror and studied myself, taking in the black, blue, purple, red. You told me that you loved me and that it would heal. You promised it would never happen again.
Your promises are hollow, they mean nothing anymore. You threw me to the ground, screaming as I shook and held my arms over my face. Do you remember how it was before?
I dream about you all the time, I recreate scenes from the past, and we’re in love again, real love. I like to pretend that my dreams are reality and the real world is just a vivid nightmare. It’s okay, I’ll wake up in a few hours and all my bruises will be gone, my hair will be long and shiny, and you’ll kiss me and sing to me again.
It’s nearly every other night now, you leave me bleeding and sweating and running out of aspirin. Wake up, wake up, wake up.
My wounds are familiar, they always seem to be in the same spots and hurt the same way. I’m still your stupid clown, trying to get the bloodstains out of the carpet and bed sheets so it’ll at least look like life is normal again.
Oh My God.
That was amazing! The few lines you wrote almost made me cry. That is definitely a sign of a good author.
I loved it!
Please keep writing.
=')
Hello! I'm here to review your piece. (Obviously xP)
Your promises are hollow, they mean nothing anymore.
It’s nearly every other night now, you leave me bleeding and sweating and running out of aspirin.
It's so sad... it really is moivng, scary that something like this can exist, that things like this do exist. I thought it was really really good. Short, but great. It really did move me, and even frightened me a bit. *shudder* you did an awesome job, be proud of it!
Keep writting, and if you write anything else, please PM me because I like the way you write, and I'd like to see more of it.
Ofir
Hey,
That was amazing. You captured the sense of hopelessness and pain perfectly. It's quite moving.
The start is perfect. I love the clown analogy.
I quite like how you've addressed it to the reader. It's like a letter she wishes she could give him, but is too fearful.
One stupid, tiny thing:
My wounds are familiar, they always seem to be in the same spots and hurt the same way.
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