Young Writers Society

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: Well, this was a powerful little story here. Not much happened here at all and yet it managed to really bring across some very interesting points right here...aand capture the kind of emotional turmoil from the sort of sadness this kind of situation can bring.

Anyway let's get right to it,

The day I left school to start my winter break early,(I never go to school on theactual last day of school, I mean who does?), I was back to normal. I had finallygotten things back to the way they used to be before my melt down. I would tell youabout that, but that’ll be another chapter. I was happy, smiling and laughing with real joyand and not the fake emotion that I’d throw up just to make my councilor happy. I justwish I could’ve felt like that forever.

The first few days of the break were good. I was really just in chill mode, relaxing with my niece in my room watching Christmas specials and news about those poor children who’d died before they ever saw twenty-thirteen. Funny how now that I think about it, neither did the girl that sat with my niece and laughed at Delano Edwards videos and talked about getting that Mytouch that she’d always wanted. Two days after Christmas, my mama called me to the kitchen and told me that my bio-mama had had a heart attack. I never really reacted to it, thinking that this was just another hospital visit and that she’d be out again in a month or so. After all, my mama always got better when things happened.

Excuse my french but damn, what a lie that was. I knew my mama was sick, I’ve known it since my granny had died, since first grade. My adoptive mama had sat me down and told me that mama was sick, she explained to me what she had and what it meant and what I should expect. I knew all along but I still had to be a child and expect mommy to get better, cause that’s what always happened. I didn’t even worry about her, didn’t even call her to ask her. A day later, Saturday night, my mama had a stroke, calm and quiet, and nobody found her until later. Sunday morning she was brain dead and living off life support. I was ready for church, waiting to go to church and take for granted my key to everlasting life, when I was told.

I didn’t react, I just listened and simply said “She’s brain dead?”. I can’t say I didn’t feel anything, because I did, something changed in me. I cried softly and calmly in the car and a little at church in Sunday school. Not a lot, that was never me. I didn’t scream or wail, or even ask God why he took one of the only two people I have left in this world. I stayed calm and collected, making myself go about the day like I normally would, not allowing myself to mourn. I lay in my bed watching T.V. and not thinking when they pulled the plug and let my mama slip off into the universe. That night I didn’t sleep, at least I tried not to. I stayed awake until it was impossible to keep my eyes open and I dropped onto my pillow and drifted into my mind. I didn’t want to lay down and start thinking. Cause thinking leads to remembering, remembering leads to realization, realization leads to emotions. I didn’t want to go there. I’m still not going there.

Two days later, New years rang in and the old year faded out. I don’t think about her. When I do, I force myself not to let the reality sink in. I don’t think at all. I checked her Facebook and wrote on her wall ‘I miss you mama.’ and then wrote to her inbox about how I should’ve called more. Her friend Kim told me how weird it was not having her call her everyday. I think its weird too. To know that she will never call or text me or even inbox me again. I let a few tears flow that day. Breaking my own rules is a staple of mine. Even when I write this I’m breaking rules cause I’m thinking, remembering, and my cheeks are damp and my throat sore from fighting the lump that’s pushing its way upwards from my belly.

Things changed for me. I used to want to be big things and go against the reality that I’m failing classes and not getting work done because I just don’t do it. I used to dream of college and I still do, but I’m starting to realize that some things are not for me. I’m not really feeling school, it bores me. I still may become what I want, but right now I’m doing whats best for me, be it reality or not, my goal is to survive. To live. Something my mama never got to do. I was her life, she wanted her little girl(or her lil shortie, that’s what she used to call me) to have the things she didn’t. So that’s what I plan to do, to do the things she didn’t because she couldn’t. I’m gonna love and raise my children. I’m gonna work and be happy. And I hope that one day the pain of reality fades back into the background of my illusion, but until then I will remain calm.

This had a nice flow, nice transition to it, every word i hung on a piece a thread i didnt want there to be an end. But I exspecially Loved the two last sentences "And I hope that one day the pain of reality fades back into the background of my illusion, but until then I will remain calm." This is an emotional story and i loved the way you described that your cheeks were damp. You had very good imagery , and im excited to hear more.

This must have been a real experience :/ in an extremely bad sense. But I will review never the less.

For me I can see a massive juxtaposition that carries all the way through. Usually a child (I pick that up from the use of words such as 'mama' and 'lil shortie' and the way you messaged her over Facebook seemed the kind of thing an innocent child would do) but any way a child us usually full of emotion, blubbering away at the slightest emotional provocation. But that doesn't seem to be the case here. Emotions a restrained to the extreme, to the point where it almost seems empty. This leads to the other side of the juxtaposition. Its extremely adult like, a person that has learnt to forget to use emotions because of personal experiences, and has learnt to do this through many years of experience. This creates question to how old the narrator (you) are. These 2 factors creates an uncertainty about the story that seems to tip it off balance in a way. Like when you read something, you can feel in your head or in your chest the way you feel about that story or novel or poem. But for this however there doesn't seem to be a lot of emotion. But at the same time there is an incredible amount.

I myself have counselling for emotional issues. However this is my advice for this kind of scenario. Let it all out. It helps soooooo much. I'm a 17 year old guy and I still let it flow free, I've only ever let it out once in anger, and I have scars to prove.... so don't do that! But really, do cry sometime in your life, because it does lead to nervous breakdowns as I've been told.

I can't decide whether I liked this or not, because its so personal it seems even a crime to review this! But it has a smooth surface and a deep underlay.

Portray that into other writing and you'll do great!

-Cosmo

This is hard to review because it is so emotional, and I think that is exactly what makes me feel like I have to review it. I'll start with the things that I noticed with technicalities and then move on to more of the overall sense of the story afterwards.

"Her friend Kim told me how weird it was not having her call her everyday." This sentence is strangely written. Having "...not having her call her..." makes it very difficult to identify which her is related to which person. Because they're both female, I would suggest just reworking the sentence. Let me see how I can break up the sentence structure to help you rephrase this.
"Her friend Kim told me how weird it was not having her call her everyday."
Subject: Her friend Kim
Predicate: Told me how weird it was not having her call her everyday.
You have an embedded sentence which is basically "how weird it was not having her call her everyday" That has the subject how weird it and predicate was not having her call her everyday.
I would suggest taking the original sentence Her friend Kim told me (insert the basic jist) and then in another sentence put something about how weird you both felt it was not calling her every day.
I know this is quite a bit of text for one simple sentence, but it was the only one that really popped out at me as weird and it interrupted the flow of the story.

The rest of the story was very emotionally packed and the description of the narrator's emotions as she writes this is absolutely breathtaking to me.
I would suggest a little more clarity on this subject: "Funny how now that I think about it, neither did the girl that sat with my niece and laughed at Delano Edwards videos and talked about getting that Mytouch that she’d always wanted." because I don't understand who that is. Perhaps using foreshadowing for the death of the narrators mother instead of an unrelated(is it?) death.

Also in the first paragraph where you have the lines all broken up, I would suggest putting them back together.

Lastly, I would also suggest taking out your challenge about who actually goes to school on the last day before break. It can be off putting and mildly offensive to a reader who did do that, like myself.

Overall, I enjoy how you managed to work in such a deep emotion to this piece. Thank you for sharing it and I would love to read a poem on the same subject just to see how they relate. Keep Writing.