note: this story is autobiographical. It's how I remember it. It alternates between past and present by literary choice. also, I'm likely never going to finish it. Also, it's about friendship, but feel free to interpret it any way you want.
edit 9/20/25: It's been a year since i published and unpublished this work since i thought it was too personal but i don't give a damn now.
It started just as it ended. I'll remember that day because if I don't I'll never learn, but it hurts too much to think about it.
I was lost in this world, searching for a purpose, searching for a reason to live. The noise in my head would one day overcome me and constrict my windpipe until I couldn't wouldn't shouldn't think anymore, because I didn't want to or deserve the life I had.
The harder I smile, the less I hurt outside.
But deep down, every word used against me tears against my chest and licked like flames against my head.
Special.
For my entire life, everyone had said that I was exceptional. Gifted. Blessed. But now, those words serve as a curse, cold comfort to the brain that had forsaken me, that worked against my will. Now, the word itself is an attack.
And the expectations, the silent unspoken undertone of my life. I was good, yes, but I didn't want to be.
I began to plan my disappearance. I wanted out, wanted to escape the current, the thoughts, the pressure. I wanted to end it, quickly, before I suffered more.
Alone.
My life is a mess, left with empty unsaid words of regret. The spiral of emotions has me tightly in its grasp, slowly falling with enough time for me to realize that it's happening.
There is no escape. Only sleep provides a brief respite.
My arms bled. So did my fingers. Sometimes they still do.
Knowledge.
It curses me to eternity. Everything I know is exactly what I shouldn't. Nobody ever wants to know what I have on my mind, or once they do, they're offended. Of course I feel emotions and think. No, i'm not showing them to you. I'm going to laugh as hard i can.
Why should I continue? All I get is hate and condescending words.
And yet, it was not useful for any practical application regardless. younger, I was flawed.
Crying.
"I need help. Please, god, help me. Please. Just do something. Before I self-destruct."
And then you walked into my life, just when I needed someone like you the most.
Someone to save me.
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125,021 Literary Works • 672,740 Reviews
To start off this review,
I like the deep amount of personality you've managed to imbue in this short text.
The sectioning feels like your version of the 5 stages of grief:
Reminiscent, Painful Nostalgia, Loneliness, Absolution of Meaning, and finally, Utter Pain.
"I couldn't wouldn't shouldn't" There's a certain disbelieving, denying hopelessnesd that has pervaded the narrator.
"The harder I smile, the less I hurt outside.
But deep down, every word used against me tears against my chest and licked like flames against my head."
For this, a minor edit may be replacing "the less i hurt" with "the less hurt I show" or "the less the hurt bleeds out". Also suggest replacing "licked like flames at my head" with "licked like flames at my eyes" to convey tearing up or "licked like flames at my throat".
"Special", "exceptional", are all expectations wrapped in a disrespectfully thin veneer of compliments. All these words are just as fleeting as the people who said them during difficult times. Being "good" feels like nothing important if you haven't given up a part of your soul for it. And you will never give up a part of your soul, because deep down, the achievements mean nothing, only the praise approval does. The mind is its own biggest enemy, the only current capable of drowning dry lungs.
The world moves on and on, it ebbs and flows, with only you staying stuck to feel the full force of the tide. Where a liminal space has you feeling the same pain over, and over again.
You speak, and you are told you say too much. You never speak again. You keep your mouth shut but your eyes stay burning.
In the end, a helping hand, keeping you afloat over the drown of your tears. Hold tight, and don't let go, or you'll feel yourself falling down, down, down.
There's a certain kind of vehemence with which you've written the work, so it's very realistic. Great Job on that. <3333
Hey, noperfectformula! This is Alex, here with a review. I stumbled upon this piece among the oldest works in Green Room when I was searching for something to read for completing RevMo's checklist challenge. Let's get started!
This is a particularly vulnerable work, so I'm not sure how helpful this is will be. But I'll try my best to convey which parts really got across to me.
One interesting fact about this writing is that it goes on like a loop. The artistic leap here is so original- the narration starts with the end of the friendship while the end describes the beginning of the bond. Such a creative idea, I've never read a story with such an innovative literary choice.
From a more critical perspective, I do think the execution of this loop may have been a little rough around the edges, as the the material about this friend is visibly scarce. Personally, I would've wanted to know a little more about them. In it's present form, it looks an inner monologue about overthinking and the burnout that follows from being the gifted kid.
I believe the 'to' after want needs to be omitted here, just a small error
I notice the habit of smiling to hide the mental pain, something that is consistent throughout the story. It establishes a sense of credibility to it's reality from being mentioned multiple times.
I acknowledge your choice of switching tensed but in the same sentence? I feel 'licks' is more apt here, corresponding to the tens of 'tears'.
On the brighter side, I LOVED the imagery of fire licking - it's so agonizingly beautiful.
I found this very resonating. The kid within me died from the burdening expectations, I never asked for any of it. The overthinking that comes with a brilliant mind is very much relatable - it's the greatest curse when the brain turns against itself.
There couldn't be truer or more heartbreaking words, our souls are made from the same ash.
And they say prayers aren't heard! <3 This was such a warm closing, almost like the first ray of sunlight piercing through the dark.
This tincture of hope offers the reader the much awaited relief. But there's an impending disappointment to it- knowing it didn't last. In the beginning of the story, the tone is almost resentful. The narrator has reduced this lifesaver to a lesson to be learnt, and that's completely heart-shattering to read given how big of a help they were in the hour of need. I'm torn between empathising with the narrator, thinking something must have happened and siding with the friend as they literally helped the narrator when things were dire. But it seems no side is wholly right and life just happens in it's incredibly twisting ways. In the dessert of struggles, this friend was a single drop of water. However, it doesn't quench the narrator's thirst and they're just left craving water even more than before.
The bold titles were a great way to organise your thoughts and express them clearly. They really caught my eye and enhanced the literary impact.
Thank you for sharing this extremely personal narrative with us. You're really brave for penning down your worst nightmares and experiences. It's uneasy to read through at times, but the realism also comforts the people who have gone through something similar. It has a raw elegance to it- the most extraordinary quality, I'm so sorry that you had to endure all those depressing thoughts, you clearly deserved so much better. I hope you're in a better place and have found a proper closure with this said friend. I'm happy that you found some support though them, right when you needed it most. You might not share the bond today, but they'll always be the angel sent as answer to your prayers. It sounds too good to be true really, like it was fate. You might have had a little help, but you're a warrior nevertheless, for getting through all of it. I wish no-one else relates to this ever again. But if anyone feels like this, they read your story to know they're not alone.
This is... wow.
Sorry for that, but this hits really REALLY close to home, and kudos to you for having the courage to share this. You are seen. I see you. I hear you, and I'm sure many others agree. This is what I like to call a heavy peace. It's not easy to stomach AT ALL. And that's okay. Trauma isn't easy to stomach. And we shouldn't have to have gone through it for it to matter to us.
This is written, really well, and the way it's written out is a bitter bite to take. Then again, these feelings aren't easy to understand either. It takes a lot of courage to muster up and write about these things. I can't even do that.
All I can say is, at least you're here now. You're still breathing. Your heart is still beating. You are still standing. Be proud of that. Be proud of you. Be proud of making it THROUGH that. Be proud of surviving.
I see you, I promise. Keep writing, love.
~Taost