Hello, world. It is me, Ruby Fox. I didn't want to start a blog at first. Apparently it will help... At least that's what they said it would do. Let me tell you something. It doesn't help. But anyways, Welcome to my dumb blog. I like to call it "Anxious Minds and Jittered Lives" just because I can. And in this blog, I help you get better. I can help you people who, like me, refuse to be put on medication. Or those of you who are, but still struggle. But the real problem is... I can't even help myself get better.
I shut my laptop and fidgeted with the charger. What was wrong with me? Couldn't I just freaking calm down for once? I felt my stomach twist in knots and I stood up. Dr. Peirce said to control myself. Stay still. Don't twitch. I had to do it if I wanted to stay off the medicine, he said. I refused to take the pills. Never. That would brand me. I'd feel like I was crazy. So I stopped moving. For a while. It's just hard. I sat myself down again, trying to calm myself. "I can't do this." I groaned. I ran out my door and down the stairs.
"Honey, what's the matter?" Mom said from the kitchen. I stared at her with a blank face, except she could see it in my eyes. It always showed in my eyes. She put down the carrot she had been chopping and walked to me. She got there in a flash and wrapped her arms around me. I just stood there, trying not to break. "Calm down. It's okay. Just relax. Nothing bad is happening." She cooed at me. But it sure feels like it, I thought. I took a deep breath and untangled myself from her. I nodded and walked slowly to the living room. I picked up the family iPad on the way. Dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV. It was an old show that wouldn't occupy my mind. I sat down and pulled up my blog again.
Okay so first thing I would tell all you anxious people is that you should find something to occupy your mind. Blast music. Read a book or watch TV. Something interesting that you can think about. Keeping your mind on track is important. Or at least, that's what I've come to realize.
"Dad, can we change it please?" I asked quietly. He looked at me with a blank face.
"Nope" He said. Great. My dad wasn't the compromising type. He liked being in control, which I agreed with. I needed to be in control; in control of myself at all times. I couldn't let my guard down, because what if something happened? What if I screwed up? So I did what I had to do. I fished out a broken pair of headphones from my jeans pockets and listened to New Girl on Netflix. On my iPod, I was playing around on the internet. It was what I did. It calmed me. Everyone has something that will always calm them. Some people have music, a blanket. Something. I have the good old internet. I often wondered what I would do if I was born in the 1800's. Probably die, I thought.
"Honey, do you want a salad?" Mom called from the kitchen. I didn't know if she was talking to me or Dad. I stayed silent for a moment. "Ruby?" Oh, so she was talking to me.
"Um... No thanks..." I called back. I never wanted to eat when I was upset. Never. Sometimes I would go days without eating, just because I couldn't bring myself to choke anything down. I knew how dangerous that was, but it didn't really make a difference.
"Why aren't you eating?" Dad demanded. I stared at him for a little while. I had no idea what to say. I never talked to Dad about my problems, mostly because I was afraid he'd hate me if he knew.
I swallowed dryly. "I-I'm just not... hungry." I said. I gave him the same look I gave Mom when I was panicky. He didn't understand it.
"Why aren't you hungry?" He questioned. I looked at the floor and pulled out my headphone. I didn't want to admit it. He wouldn't understand.
"I'm just having a bit of an anxiety attack... Okay?" I whispered. I looked up at him pleadingly.
"Well, stop it." He said. "Eat a salad." I nodded slowly. Mom handed me a plate and I stared at it. What Dad says, goes. I put a bite of salad in my mouth and tried to chew. I gagged. I forced it down, barely able to keep myself from throwing up. I stared at the food in disgust. I set it on the side table. I ignored it until it went brown and gross. I couldn't eat it. I wouldn't. Mom came in the room and looked sadly at my food. I couldn't tell if it was because I wasted food or if she knew what that one choice was leading up to.
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125,006 Literary Works • 672,809 Reviews
Heya, Eevee! Cassy here for another review, after this one.. My eighth of yours tonight, I think? I'll take a break then finish the other ten+ you have. Anyway, to the review.
Okay, so I know this is a blog post. But, you start the following paragraphs with,"she shut the computer," as if this blog has no importance whatsoever. Why's that? It's obvious it was important enough for you to start it, or someone to suggest it to you. Why no mentioning beyond the fact? If you start a novel with someone such as this, make it less dramatic if you're not going to use it. I'm curious about why the blog, I'm curious about what you do with it. I'm curious about the blog. I'm not a fan of having a lot off text within a novel/short story(as you very well know), but you started your novel out with a blog. Will it continue? Will you use the blog more throughout the story(besides the postage of the other blog post a couple paragraphs after)? I wanna know.
Here, again, the blog post isn't recognize. If it wasn't important to you, why not mention it outside of posting a blog? I care about YWS A TON. And I mention it daily, and several times a day. It's the same concept, but maybe this is just me and I'm over reacting on this point.
I like the dialogue this time. You worked it well with your actions, and I didn't really find any weird phrasing in this one. But remember, you can play with your words always. Word play, puns. Whatever you want to call them. Anyway, on to the next thing.
I hope this helped.
Keep on doing what you're doing and keep on keeping on.
Your friend, Cassy.
Greetings from The Swordsman,
Living with someone who has anxiety, I understand a little of what your main character is going through. I also understand how frustrating and terrifying it can be to have to live with someone that just doesn't understand what is going on in their mind or why they feel the way they feel.
The approach of an inner monologue is a good method of giving a full, well rounded view of the pain that someone with Anxiety goes through. Describing their emotions and the small means they have of making themselves calm down. Too often now are people told to just suck it up and deal with it when they don't really feel like they can, which only makes them feel worse about themselves.
I can't really find anything wrong with this story from a grammatical or a plot point of view. The length is a little short but there are means of making things seem to stretch out. While your chapters are short you could have a group of chapters together on a section heading. For a reference, take a look at Stephen King's "Cell". That layout might fit the feel that you have going on at the moment.
Thank you for sharing this with us. It was a wonderful read.
Happy Writing!
Thanks! :3
Wow, let me just start of with, this reminds me slightly of my book I'm currently writing. I think all your ideas and style of writing is amazing and suits your book to a Tee.
I think be a bit more descriptive, just so your audience can get a better picture, BUT don't describe everything. Let your audience think up their own scenes also.
Furthermore, depending on if your book is a novel or a short story etc, (I think this would be amazing for a novel, which is what I'm doing) then I think your chapters should be a tad longer.
Maybe not tooooo much longer, but perhaps 3/4 pages at least?
Let your audience really get into your characters scene and feel everything your characters do.
The relationship between an author and our readers is very emotional and very close. As writers we have so much in our head, so many characters and places and descriptions and blah blah blah, get down as much as you can! you want your audience to feel what you do when you write it. the emotions you feel, the sadness, anxiety, passion, heartache. If you can make your readers feel what you felt, that's when you know you've done a good chapter.
If you read or when you write your chapter and think, 'this is too breif' then read through it again, and everything you fill in in your head, fill it on on page.
Your very talented and I was happy to read this, I hope you take on my advise, I only want to see you grow as a writer!
Thanks so much!! I will definitely work on this! I thought it was a little short, but it was late when I wrote it and wanted to go to bed. So I will definitely work on it.