Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
March 6th,
It has been three years and I can still taste my own blood.
I can still remember the look on Zara's face the last time I saw her.
I can still remember the cuts on Charlie's wrists and the way I felt when my dad told me he thought I didn't care about anyone except for myself.
I feel like a clock stuck on a constant spinning cycle, with memories that don't leave me alone. I've heard people say that it's not what happens to us that we remember, but the way it made us feel that really sticks. I used to think this was true, but I've become so obsessed with reliving the past that I have become unable to forget anything.
There was a moment in my life when I stopped being a kid. Everything that was barely being held together fell apart with a violent crash. There was a moment when I became the person I am today and was no longer the innocent girl I used to be. Part of me has forgotten everything, but I still remember it all at the same time. It has all become a void full of who I was, who I am, and who I so desperately wanted to be instead. It is full of every friend who I have lost and every word I regret saying. It is full of every word I want to say to Zara and Mahlet and mom and that boy from the small town and Dr. Stevens.
This letter feels stupid. No one is going to read what I'm writing anyway. According to my therapist, writing is an "outlet to express my emotions". The truth is I don't talk to Evan, my therapist. He is a typical middle-aged white man who probably went into therapy to feel less bad about his own problems. His office smells like dog hair. I bet he didn't move out of his parent's home until he was 30. Honestly, I don't talk at all. Even since I moved out of home and started my new life I have lost a lot of control.
My hand is shaking as I hold this pen. Not from fear of sharing, but fear of telling it wrong.
Maybe I spend too much time in my room. Or maybe I just have too many reasons not to leave. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anyway. I have nowhere to be and no one who even notices.
Lately, my bedroom floor has become quicksand that is slowly devouring my desire to do anything. It's like my will to fight, live, and grow up is being stolen from me, but I'm too tired to fight back. The thing is, I don't even care anymore. I'm a leaf from the tree outside my bedroom window, hanging on to the branch while everyone around me has already fallen to the dirt below, gliding in the cool autumn breeze. It's as if I am the only one left who can still see the the big picture from above. The only one who sees the world for how it really is. I have learned a lot about myself. I have always found comfort in writing, though. I remember before everything happened, I would stay up late at night reading Harry Potter under my covers with my little black flashlight that barely worked. I used to write. I can't anymore because I have nothing to say and nothing I want to say. Writing stories about talking animals and magical creatures is how I survived my parent's divorce.
But it wasn't enough to save me from the monster who is myself. It couldn't save me from the night when I held the broken shard of glass too close to my wrist and made the decision that whatever happened, it couldn't be worse than the hell I was living in. It couldn't heal the sting of the cuts that pressed against my leotard and shorts. It couldn't make me take my meds. And it couldn't convince me that I was anything more than a burden and a barrier holding others back from finally having what they so desperately desired.
Writing didn't give me a mother who loved me. And didn't transform me into a person who can drop a cup without promising that I would never do it again.
So here I am. This is not just my story, but it is Zara's. It's Mahlet's. It's my father's story too. It's the story of every defeated warrior I was blessed to know. Every one of them fought as hard as they could for as long as they could. This is the story of my friends who made it through, as well as those who didn't. I do not have the words to accurately explain the pain I have felt, endured, and continue to remember every single day. What I do have is a desire to share and not hide anymore. I have been playing a game of hide and seek with younger me for so long. But writing this, well, it makes me feel like I am getting closer to finding her again.
I guess what I want to say is I made it, Zara. This is for you.
Your friend,
Astrid Elowen MacLeod
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137,435 Literary Works • 672,020 Reviews
This was the introductory chapter to a novel I started a few months ago. I ended up starting and finishing an entirely different novel, so I sort of scrapped this idea but I decided to post it since I like what I did get to writing. I am now writing a new novel, where I use my character in this, named Astrid as my main character! So even though this story was never finished, she still gets her chance to shine, in another world
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
First Impression: Honestly a very powerful letter this one. The feelings are just so raw and I honestly am left a little rattled after going through that one. It hits you a bit like a truck with just the surface emotions and then the second you try to analyze a bit deeper, well you do fall into that quicksand.
Anyway let's get right to it,
Oooh I'm loving this imagery here to start us off here. Its a really neat little constant flow just slowly revealing image after image to us in quite a smooth little pattern there while slowly revealing to us about this person's thoughts. A powerful little start here.
Oooh these words really are getting quite powerful, there's just something quite raw about the way you've brought this together here that really strikes you as the author. Its quite easy to put yourself in that position and you can really feel what they're trying to put down on paper here.
Well the plot is certainly thickening nice and slow and once again I have to say the imagery is just spot on, just a really nice way of showcasing a very visual version of the turmoil going through this person's head and the steps they are almost desperately taking to combat it.
This just hits you like shockwave after shockwave and I am here for it. Those last two lines especially are just amazing. They're so simple, but they just mean so much and you're immediately just drawn to this person to want to understand and know everything about how this maelstrom of emotions formed and also perhaps just give them a big hug.
Well that's a beautiful note to end on here. Honestly now I'm just quite sad that more wasn't written for this because wow this is quite the powerful start, it just hints at so much, and if you just read it a little deeper than the surface there's already so much to think on here.
Aaaaand that's it for this one.
Overall: Overall, a very promising start this one honestly. I would certainly have read more if you'd actually continued here. But for now I'd settle for saying this is a powerful piece that absolutely makes you think and captivates you so very easily.
As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.
Stay Safe
Kate
It makes me so happy to see your incredible reviews around here again
This. Is. So. Good. Like, seriously one of the best beginnings I've ever read. (And I agree with mint. That bit there was beautiful.)
I have to read it again! There's so way I can't!
ahhhh i just saw this for some reason oops! But thank you, seriously that means so much to me, friend!!! thank you thank you thank you!!!
Hello there, human! I'm reviewing using the YWS S'more Method today!
Let us commence with the reviewing…
Top Graham Cracker - Astrid is writing a letter to let out her feelings, to save herself from her past…
Slightly Burnt Marshmallow -Maybe you can make Mom capitalized? I don’t know, it’s just an idea. You don’t have to follow this.
Chocolate Bar - You know, while reading this, I thought that it was all real. You’ve written it like it’s real and that’s what I like about it. I feel bad for Astrid, like whatever happened wasn’t her fault, but everybody blames her, so then she blames herself. It’s one of the worst and unfair things to ever happen to someone.
Closing Graham Cracker -If you choose to continue this, I’ll definitely read the rest! This is sad, but beautiful.
I wish you a lovely day/night!
ahhhh this writing hits hard
<///3
you have a really strong writing voice, Ellie :]
Thank you!! That really really means a lot to me!!!