Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Art » Narrative

E - Everyone

Lament

by Hayley02


Many people don't know this story, but believe me when I say I was once so deeply infatuated with someone that I started to contemplate whether I was in love.

His name is not one to disclose as he is known by many people. So for now he will bear no name. And dear boy, if you somehow end up reading this, the majority of me wishes for you to not figure out it’s you. There is, however, a small part of me that does hope you realize it is you I have made anonymous. Not so you feel sorry for me, but so that you understand the depth of my feelings, for you had once bewitched me; body and soul.

You see, it all began on April 16th, 2018. Yes, it was that long ago. It was also the day I met him. Now, it wasn’t love at first sight, because that doesn’t exist. It was merely attraction at first sight. Attraction that I very much knew would be felt just by the way he carried himself.

He wasn’t a typical or ordinary boy. From the moment I saw him I felt the urge to know what traits and attributes he holds in that personality of his. I wanted to befriend him. To know him. And I did just that. We talked and texted endlessly and it didn’t take long for me to realize that I had a crush on him.

He shared a lot about his past, his present and what he would want for his future. Each time he told me something I felt a tad closer to him. Like I’d seen a side of him that no one else had and it was the best feeling in the world at the time. I got to know of the many flaws that he had and despite that, I relentlessly admired him.

He left a deep scar, cut, mark... call it what you will. But whatever it was, he left it there and it would take a tremendous amount of healing to get it off me completely. It felt like he'd gotten inside my head, my mind, my heart.

In the past, I would want nothing but to sit and think of him constantly. Think of us. I believed he was made for me and I for him. I remember when he first told me how much be trusted me. I trusted him too. From the beginning, I trusted him with every ounce of my soul. His words stayed inside me. They hit me with such force that I began to fall more and more in lo... No. In like with him. As I said before, I was only contemplating whether or not I loved him. But I never admitted anything to myself.

I remember how he shared his poems with me. It doesn’t seem like much of an issue to you readers but I beg to differ. Poetry is like the key to someone’s naked soul. Poetry makes feelings tangible. And that is exactly what it was for me. The more he shared with me his poems, the more I understood how broken he felt inside and I wanted nothing more than to fix those broken pieces myself. He shared poems about heartbreak, loss, depression. I couldn't fathom the thought of our friendship ever ending or changing for the worse. I was already in too deep. I was under his spell. He dominated my thoughts and feelings.

We told each other anything. Everything. No matter how insignificant, vile, immoral...whatever. We shared our insecurities, our hopes, our dreams. Hell, he even told me the name of his future daughter. I still think it's the greatest name in the world, other than his of course.

To this day, I don't know what type of feelings he possessed towards me, or if he had any feelings for me at all. If he did, then they have ceased. Why, you ask? Well, because he met someone new. A girl.

When he first told me about this girl that he liked, he never told me her name. So after all that we'd been through together, I was left to believe that this mysterious girl was me. Yeah, that’s right. I thought the girl was me.

He spoke about her with clear affection and it was the most beautiful thing ever. Seeing him speak about something he could possibly love made my heart melt.

That was until he started to describe her. Her smile, her likes and dislikes, her height too. Then, I couldn’t help but think: That isn’t me. No, no, it had to be. He liked me as much as I liked him right? I was already so deeply under his skin, and his in mine. He had to like me too.

But no, he didn't. My melting heart froze in its liquefaction and broke into a million pieces. I didn't cry or anything, but I was hurt. Deeply hurt. I had liked this boy for one whole year and about nine months, a long time. So to hear him say that he liked someone else was a wild concept.

I knew exactly who she was. He didn’t have to tell me, I figured it out on my own and I was right. From that moment I couldn’t help but compare myself to her. She is a symbol of perfection compared to me. She's got ‘a cute height’ as he so well put it. And I won't even lie, she’s beautiful. She has an amazing smile, her eyes shine brighter than all the stars and she has the body of a queen. In layman terms, she's hot. Unlike me.

Also unlike me, she has accomplished so much in her life. She goes to a damn good university and she has an amazing voice. A beautiful voice. Hold on, if this sounds like jealousy to you, you’re absolutely right.

I felt jealous. But I didn’t do anything as a result of my jealousy. I didn’t even talk to her at all. I stayed away from her. It was especially hard since he noticeably started hanging out with her more than I did with him. I would see them walking and conversing alone. That used to be me, minus the affection I suppose.

During that time I feigned happiness. Happiness for him. Every time he would bring her up in a conversation I would squeal with excitement as if I were some twelve year old fan girl. I constantly asked about her and hoped to hear that he somehow didn’t like her anymore, making it look like I was happy that he found a girl.

However, all that I did was fake. It was all a lie.

You see, I wanted to be the one he would first say “I love you” to. But it was her. I wanted to be the one to take walks and talk to him about all sorts of things. No, it was her. I wanted to be the first girl he'd introduce to his parents. I wanted his family to feel like my family. He'd already met my parents before and I assumed it was another step to something more than friendship. But it was nothing more than gum under the shoe. A memory waiting to be forgotten.

I thought I would be the first girl he'd ask out on a date, but no. He asked her out and told me all about it. He even told me simple things like how he held her hand more often than not, and during this time I felt defeat sink in more and even more. I felt betrayed, discarded, ignored.

So I tried to force myself to stop liking him. I really did try. But how was I supposed to do that when he still acted the same. He still treated me like I was the only girl until she would find herself in our conversations. On new years eve, he even sent me a long paragraph explaining how much he’s grateful for me, how much he wishes for us to never stop being friends. He literally told me I ‘excite his life.’

But there was that word again. Friends. I was always nothing more than his friend.

He was always so, so sweet. I felt like I was being led on. Like he continued to feed me his lies and give me false hope of our impossible future together. He still called me things like “amazing.” Man, I felt amazing. And despite this new girl, he would always want to talk to me everyday. He would always ask how I was and how I was feeling. He always asked if I enjoyed my day. It sounds like small talk, but it wasn't anywhere even close to that. Each conversation was always much deeper than the last, and I loved it. He still allowed me to explore the depths of his soul. And so, I fell deeper into his trap. A trap where he would soon leave me and go to his other girl. I still allowed myself to fall for him. How could I not when he still acted like I was the only girl in his life?

I couldn’t help but feel played. Like he was toying with my feelings. He elevated me and left me to fall...alone. That caused me to feel bitter towards him. I didn’t want to talk to him after all his games. Maybe he didn’t intend to make me feel like this, but that’s how I felt. He made me feel so alone and forgotten. Insignificant really. I still tried to be his friend but how could I when I felt like nothing more than his prey? I felt like a dying corpse waiting to decompose.

He caused a foreign type of hurt to ignite. A feeling that would seemingly never be forgotten. He played with my thoughts and feelings. He was unfair to me the whole time and it was bewildering to know that he had been oblivious to my feelings.

To this day, our conversations are a rarity. That is mainly my fault, but I do not give a care. I don't wish I never met him. No, I am in fact grateful that I did. He had taught me so many things in the past, things I am grateful for and would rather not forget.

However, it's made me realize that I would rather be his acquaintance than his friend. The amount of hurt and confusion he caused me in the past was tremendous. So much so that I prefer to steer clear of him, to avoid him. Maybe I am being irrational but I wish not to fall into his trap again. So we would rarely talk to each other and I really don’t mind at all.

If he is saddened by our distance, I would do anything to make him feel happy again because I am not a monster. If he wants to talk to me, I'd happily oblige. I would do that because his happiness once mattered more than my own, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn’t anymore. I still want him to feel like the happiest being on earth. I still want him to achieve his goals.

I want to see him succeed, to make it in life. Even if he did it all with another girl by his side. But as far as I was concerned, just as Brontë so well put it, whatever our souls were made of, his and mine were the same. I just never realized how wrong I was.


Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.







Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
298 Reviews


Points: 15766
Reviews: 298

Donate
Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:29 pm
Kassiani wrote a review...



Hello!

So, this was... a lot. Oof. I kinda wasn't sure if this was intended as a piece of satire or not, but you didn't file it under that category so I'm assuming the answer is no. (Which is honestly a shame. It's got a lot of satirical merit.) Before I get to my criticism, I'll start with the nice stuff: I think you managed to capture the overly dramatic emotions that accompany first love, as well as the parade of martyrdom that goes along with first heartbreak. Reading this definitely reminded me of every young, lovestruck, heartbroken girl who has ever obsessed over a guy, so yes, you managed to get across what this piece was about. Unfortunately, you also laid it on too thick—like, you didn't just explain to the reader what the narrator was feeling, you triple-underlined it. Everything was heightened and emphasized to the nth degree, and I guess that kinda works thematically (since young people in the narrator's position often are overly dramatic/emphatic), but it also made this piece into a work of melodrama.

The actual writing was just so over the top. It was obscenely flowery, mawkish—prose that was so purple, I assume writing it must've stained your hands. While you did capture the emotions of puppy love and first heartbreak, the problem is that those feelings are kinda ridiculous. Your narrator is ridiculous. She essentially puts the blame for her crush on the guy, but it's not his fault. He thought they could be friends, obviously she wanted something different, but she never expressed that to him—in fact, she admits that she lied about being happy for him and his relationship with the other girl. How was he supposed to know she was in love (or "in like") with him? It just comes across like someone pining after a person who isn't interested, then getting way too upset that her feelings aren't reciprocated and ultimately blaming him, which is sorta toxic? Nobody is "owed" a romantic relationship, and if the narrator didn't make her feelings clear and pretended she was okay with just being friends, that's on her. The whole ending, wherein the narrator accuses him of toying with her emotions and playing her, just feels forced and detached from reality. (Also, again: kinda toxic!)

It was really hard for me to care about the narrator's feelings when there was never an actual relationship between her and the guy. I mean, sure, there was a friendship, but any romance was completely one-sided and imaginary. Is it really heartbreak if it involves two people who never dated (or even flirted)? Is it heartbreak if it was only a crush, not actual love? Those are questions that would've been interesting to explore, but your narrator, by virtue of having a victim complex and zero self-awareness, is more inclined to wallow in self-pity and comically ornate language.

It also irritated me that we never actually see the friendship between Narrator and Boy, we just hear a recap of it. You tell us they shared such intimate conversations, but we don't get to hear what those talks were like. You tell us about the instantaneous attraction Narrator had for Boy, how he was "not ordinary" or whatever, but you never show us why. And the same is true for pretty much everything contained in this piece: the narrator tells us how she feels, tells us what happened, but we don't actually see any of it. Ultimately, the way this is written feels more akin to a diary entry than a work of storytelling. (And whether this is fiction or not is irrelevant. It is still a work of storytelling—or it would be, if it was successful.)

Most of your sentences are dense and ill-structured. Sometimes less is more—try getting your point across without all the excess. In fact, "excessive" is a good word to describe this piece. There's excessive, melodramatic feelings; excessive sentences that are longer and wordier than they need to be; an excessive response to the friendship with Boy and to Boy's relationship with someone else; excessive self-pitying, excessive blaming, just an absolute overdose of everything. Again, it feels like a 14-year-old pouring her heart out to her diary, or like Éponine from Les Miserables without the likability.

In short, this didn't work for me. Now onto some comments...

Many people don't know this story, but believe me when I say I was once so deeply infatuated with someone that I started to contemplate whether I was in love.

Too wordy. You can easily write this in a much more succinct, streamlined way.

His name is not one to disclose as he is known by many people.

Again, this sentence can/should be more concise.

And dear boy, if you somehow end up reading this, the majority of me wishes for you to not figure out it’s you. There is, however, a small part of me that does hope you realize it is you I have made anonymous.

This is so awkwardly worded and badly structured. Plus, "you" is repetitive.

for you had once bewitched me; body and soul.

Improper semicolon. And this line's a little much.

You see, it all began on April 16th, 2018.

Any justification for including the specific date? You really don't need to. If you want to get a date in there, you could just say, "It was almost two years ago." Or, "I met him in the spring." Something like that.

Yes, it was that long ago.

I mean... that's only a year and eleven months ago? But okay.

It was also the day I met him.

That's implied. This line is unnecessary.

Attraction that I very much knew would be felt just by the way he carried himself.

What?

From the moment I saw him I felt the urge to know what traits and attributes he holds in that personality of his.

Very awkward and needlessly wordy sentence.

I wanted to befriend him. To know him.

Kind of redundant, unless you mean "know" in the biblical sense.

He left a deep scar, cut, mark... call it what you will.

No, you call it what you will. You're the one writing this. Don't give your reader several different synonyms and ask them to choose which one fits.

It felt like he'd gotten inside my head, my mind

Saying both "head" and "mind" is redundant.

In the past, I would want nothing but to sit and think of him constantly.

Girl, get a hobby.

I believed he was made for me and I for him.

Blech. Again, this line's a little much. Maybe it's the "and I for him" that's irritating me...

In like with him.

Perhaps italicize "in like."

It doesn’t seem like much of an issue to you readers but I beg to differ.

This shoutout to your audience is random and jarring.

Poetry is like the key to someone’s naked soul.

Ughhhhhh. Please excuse me while I gag.
Seriously though, this line bums me out. It's way too much. I actually like the next line ("poetry makes feelings tangible") so I would suggest cutting this one entirely and just letting the following sentence stand on its own. Much more impact (and less purple prose) that way.

He dominated my thoughts and feelings.

By this point in the story, you've already made that very, very clear. This line serves no purpose.

We told each other anything. Everything. No matter how insignificant, vile, immoral

Jesus, what kind of crimes were these kids committing?! Whatever "vile" and "immoral" stuff they confessed sounds like a way more interesting story than this.

Hell, he even told me the name of his future daughter. I still think it's the greatest name in the world, other than his of course.

YIKES.

He spoke about her with clear affection and it was the most beautiful thing ever. Seeing him speak about something he could possibly love made my heart melt.

"Something" should be "someone," and "spoke/speak" is kinda repetitive.

He liked me as much as I liked him right?

Put a comma after "him."

I was already so deeply under his skin, and his in mine.

"In" is definitely not the word you're looking for.

My melting heart froze in its liquefaction and broke into a million pieces.

What? This line is just... no. Nope, not happening.

I didn't cry or anything, but I was hurt. Deeply hurt.

Yeah, no kidding! Apparently your heart has liquefied, frozen, and shattered. That's gotta be painful.

She's got ‘a cute height’ as he so well put it.

That's not well put.

And I won't even lie, she’s beautiful.

That was implied when you called her a "symbol of perfection."

She goes to a damn good university

Wait, WHAT? University? You mean this isn't happening to a twelve-year-old? That is one helluva Shyamalan twist. I seriously thought this whole story was about a group of middle schoolers. If the girl and boy in this story are college-aged, how are they so immature? I mean, Jesus, if you've been crushing on this person for over a year, maybe, I don't know, ask him on a date? Tell him how you feel? You're not a child, stop acting like one.

Hold on, if this sounds like jealousy to you, you’re absolutely right. I felt jealous.

The "I felt jealous" is rendered unnecessary and redundant by the previous line.

It was especially hard since he noticeably started hanging out with her more than I did with him.

Try, "more than he did with me."

I constantly asked about her and hoped to hear that he somehow didn’t like her anymore, making it look like I was happy that he found a girl.

Are you sure the narrator isn't twelve? Like, absolutely certain?

But it was nothing more than gum under the shoe.

Change "the" to "a."

I thought I would be the first girl he'd ask out on a date

He's college-aged and has never asked anyone on a date before?

But how was I supposed to do that when he still acted the same.

Needs a question mark at the end.

On new years eve

Capitalize the N in "new," the Y, and first E in "eve."

he even sent me a long paragraph explaining how much he’s grateful for me, how much he wishes for us to never stop being friends.

You switch tenses here.

he would always want to talk to me everyday.

Should be "every day."

He still allowed me to explore the depths of his soul.

Oh for Christ's sake.

A feeling that would seemingly never be forgotten. He played with my thoughts and feelings. He was unfair to me the whole time and it was bewildering to know that he had been oblivious to my feelings.

"Feeling(s)" is repetitive.

but I do not give a care.

Either say "I don't care" or "I don't give a damn." Splitting the difference just sounds weird.

Maybe I am being irrational but I wish not to fall into his trap again. So we would rarely talk to each other

Tense switch.

I would do anything to make him feel happy again because I am not a monster. If he wants to talk to me, I'd happily oblige. I would do that because his happiness once mattered more than my own, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn’t anymore. I still want him to feel like the happiest being on earth.

"Happy/happily/happiness/happiest" is repetitive. Use a synonym.

I want to see him succeed, to make it in life. Even if he did it all with another girl by his side. But as far as I was concerned, just as Brontë so well put it, whatever our souls were made of, his and mine were the same. I just never realized how wrong I was.

This ending is really confusing. Are you saying you want to see him succeed in spite of the fact that you were wrong about him being your soulmate? If so, you need to clarify that, because the way it's currently written sounds like you're making two unrelated points (that you want to see him succeed and also, you were wrong).

Anyway, this was a ride. Um... it needs work? Yeah, that's my final summation: THIS PIECE NEEDS WORK. Cut down on those nonsensical sentences, ease back on the melodrama, get rid of all that purple prose, show your reader at least some of what you're talking about, and don't foist so much of the blame on Boy. Then you will be getting somewhere, moving away from "rambling, overly emotional diary entry" into the zone of "actual piece of storytelling." It won't be easy, but it will be a big improvement, I promise you that.




User avatar
1190 Reviews


Points: 9539
Reviews: 1190

Donate
Sat Mar 14, 2020 3:45 pm
Elinor wrote a review...



Hey Hayley!

My name is Elinor, and I thought I'd drop by to give you a quick review and welcome you to YWS. I hope you're enjoying your time here so far.

So, I enjoyed reading your piece. Your piece was hard for me to read, if only because I w ent through a very similar experience my freshman year of high school. The further you got, the more I identified with it and everything you felt and still feel. Your writing is clear and I can tell that this is something that you put a lot of your heart and passion into.

I'm not sure if you wrote this for a specific assignment or just to write it, but my one comment would be to get a little bit more creative in your storytelling. Even though this is a non fiction piece, I want you to bring us into. your world. What did the guy look like? What was the first day that you met him like? Where were you? Little details like that will add a lot to the story. Right now it's very much just "x happened, then y, then z."

Hope this helps! Don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions. Great work!

Cheers,
Elinor




User avatar
54 Reviews


Points: 1261
Reviews: 54

Donate
Sat Mar 14, 2020 2:01 pm
BhavyaMehta123 wrote a review...



Hi@Hayley02. Welcome to YWS!
You know what you have a golden heart girl! Even if things did not turn out the way you wanted them to, still you respect that boy's decision and have a goodwill in your heart for him.
I am very glad the way you are handling things.And of course you have shown great courage by sharing your story. You have poured out your emotions so well in form of writing.
I know girl you are going through a tough phase. But have faith in God and trust the process. Everything will be fine soon and fall into place. Time will heal everything.
Do not belittle yourself by telling yourself that you are not as good as her. You are beautiful in your own way.Just love yourself.
I just love the simplicity and the way you presented your work.I would love to read more of it. I hope writing becomes your helping hand in your healing process.
I will take your leave now.Keep up the goodwill and work.
Keep writing.
From: Bhavya




User avatar


Points: 0
Reviews: 0

Donate
Fri Mar 13, 2020 4:39 pm
Joaquin says...



Don't put yourself down like that. You are beautiful. Their are always other guys that are the same or better.





Resistance is futile.
— The Borg