/CRIT/ Thread

[Anonymous No.14125512]

Come in here and /crit/ique each other. Be sure to post responses as well as exercises and excerpts for your fellow anons.

[Anonymous No.14125519]

Posted this in last thread just as it died.

[Anonymous No.14125728]

>>14125519
As a story, I like it. I can tell you're not a professional but you clearly know what you're doing. It's just a little messy. If it's a nanowrimo project don't worry about any of this stuff, just write write write.

[Anonymous No.14125795]

And now comes the rest of the day where I sit staring at the computer screen in front of me, constantly shifting in my seat to help me focus less on my shallow breathing and heart palpitations. It doesn't really help though. I always show up to work a few minutes early because that’s how the subway schedule works and then my boss gets there a few minutes later than 9:30 so I usually sit there in bewilderment at what my life has become for about 10 minutes before my boss orders me what to do.

“Morning.” His skinny, six foot tall figure passes by me and into his office in front of my cubicle. I could see the lights flick on behind his translucent plexiglass wall. My throat instantly tightens a few knots tighter so that it aches with pain at this point. His silhouette rummages back and forth between the boxes of documents I prepared for him yesterday, pausing every now and then to stand up and look around. He then walks back behind his desk for a second before returning to the boxes. I must be at least 105 degrees at this point because I just always feel like he’s about to yell at me. Sweat trickles down my armpits. Suddenly he opens his office door.

“Come here for a second.” He doesn’t even look at me. My heart speeds up as he shuts the door behind us.

“What happened here.”

My stomach drops.

“…well what do you mean…”

He looks at me intensely through thin glasses. “I mean, why are these boxes all fucked up? You’re the only one that would know, so tell me. Why are these boxes all fucked up?”

“Well, um, well what’s wrong with them?” I stammered. The edges of my vision were blackening.

His voice raises. “These documents you reviewed have NOTHING to with Pfizer. NOTHING. We're deposing Weiss, the Pfizer corporate rep. You do know that, right?”

My mouth was twitching furiously. “I thought you said Wise, the Bayer guy…” I squeaked.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Guess how many times this type of thing used to happen when Chris worked for me.” He looked back up at me.

I was silent.

“You know how many times? ZERO. Because Chris was competent!” He slammed the box closed.

I flinched.

“Well? Is there a reason you fucked up so bad?”

“Well I thought you said…”

“I said WEISS! W-E-I-S-S. You’re reviewing all the Weiss documents today, and tonight, and you’re not leaving until they’re all done. Now get out.”

[Anonymous No.14125818]

>>14125728
It’s a pet project that I lost 60k words of 10 years ago due to my desktop being stolen.
Just started it up a document this evening and rambled out a first draft of something.
Thanks for the advice. I need to learn sentence structure a little more and read more.
All of my practice storymaking comes from DMing dnd.

[Anonymous No.14125827]

>>14125512
Old thread here: >>14102358

>>14108990
I don't normally crit things twice but

>My fear made haste through my body.
This was better how you originally had it. I recognize the repetition of the "my," but the rest that you have are enough anyways. I'd rather it were raw fear moving through him, without the subjectivity or ownership of "my." It's also just a better word to start on.

[Anonymous No.14125946]

Sunbeams began to climb over the adjacent building at about nine-thirty. The man knew it was nine-thirty because five minutes prior, Etheline came in with a cup of coffee and set it on the upper left hand corner of his desk. One cube of sugar. He pictured her screwing the lid off of the jar in the breakroom and selecting one and then placing it in the coffee. It was a gamble whether or not she would stir it in. Some days, the person who made the pot showed up early, so by the time the man came in, the coffee wouldn’t be hot enough to quickly dissolve the unstirred cube and he would be left with a bad cup of coffee. When he drank to the bottom, the cube would come out of its hiding and present itself to his tongue in its full sickly taste.

[Anonymous No.14125960]

>>14125519
So it's basically Dr. Stone but with guns? I would probably read that.

[Anonymous No.14125996]

With a quiet piff from the rooftop two buildings away, the perfectly clear glass cracked, and the man was sent keeling backwards. He toppled over his seat, knocking it to the ground, and fell onto his back. A small hole in his forehead began to well up with dark red blood, overflowing and trickling down through his hair. His eyes gazed absently at the ceiling, still open, unsure of what had happened. The man’s watch read nine forty-three.

[Anonymous No.14126029]

My dad and I were about to eat dinner at Chili’s. As we were walking in, I saw a woman screaming at someone across the street. I thought to myself, “She’s about to pull down her pants to piss or something like that.” I walked in, looked at the window that she was standing at, and saw her ass opened and pressed against the glass. A young black man sat on the bench in front of the window, head turned away from the evil eye that now gazed at the back of his head. “Ma’am, I think there’s… I think there’s a situation.” I said to the manager. She looked at the scene unfolding, then back to me. Only a little shocked. “Okay, we’ll take care of it.” I posted a picture of myself on my story explaining this situation. I was wearing a yellow shirt.

[Anonymous No.14126062]

>>14125512
“I said WEISS! W-E-I-S-S. You’re reviewing all the Weiss documents today, and tonight, and you’re not leaving until they’re all done. Now get out.”

I stumbled out of there feeling like someone poured ginger ale in my head and my vision was all splotchy. I wish I could shrink smaller and smaller until I ceased to exist. I didn’t even care what he thought of me but I also really did, for some reason, like every criticism he gave me was forged by destiny to define me forever. According to him I was utterly worthless, and according to me I was utterly worthless.

Chris was a better paralegal than me, almost every one is better at socializing than me, I can’t really do many important things properly. I can’t even fucking breathe or sleep properly; they both hurt. Who the fuck hurts while breathing.

“Hey Mr James, I didn't see you sneak by me all secret like that.”

“Oh hey Sasha.” It was my direct cubicle neighbor. She definitely saw me blushing and uncomfortable. She’ll eventually lose respect for me. People always do.

God I could faint. Or have a heart attack — how does this shit hurt so much. What’s wrong with me? As I focused in on my heartbeat it began to speed up, faster and faster, impossibly fast… it felt like something was about to burst out of me. My eyes shot open wide and I gripped the sides of my swivel chair as my insides felt like they were stretching endlessly, beyond the limits of my body. Oh my god I'm fainting.

I bolted out of my seat and ripped open my boss’s office door.

“What the hell are you doing, you’ve got shit to do…”

I walked directly by him and flung myself through the large glass windows in the back of his office. Glass shatters and screams fade as I plummet towards the sidewalk below.

[Anonymous No.14126100]

>>14125512
>>14125519
>counting notches
Krabsposter?

>marking around crenelations
How does the tower have multiple of these? You say "last" like there's three or more. It's just the crown at the top, right? With the prongs you hide behind?

Set more of a scene earlier.

I don't like that first ellipsis.

>his face lit slightly by Arth, [...] sat next to him
Arth, who sat next to him.

"It's" is a contraction, not a possessive like usual.

>up. The noise
Comma.

>smallest
>He
>took two strides
It sounds like the "He" is the small guy, but then you say he takes only two strides as if he had long legs. The strides end up being towards Vik, who I'm now aware is actually the small one, but prior to that point I didn't know that the "He" was still Dalen.

>scraping
>the squeal reduced to a dull scraping
you already said it was scraping

>Vik exclaimed gasping
I'd move "Vik" after "exclaimed"

>shambled
This sounds like an adjective instead of a verb, which causes its respective line to seem like a fragment for a moment. At least remove the comma from this line.

>on his
Who? The figure? You say "scope" after this, so it's Vik, but if you just mentioned the scope without "his" in front I would've still seen the right scope anyways without the confusion.

>knew from his studies
Something simpler like "had read" would feel like a less forced development.

>doubled over. Listlessly it sunk
Is this just you re-describing it falling over? Or, is it actually now sinking into the floor? The sinking line just felt odd for me.

[Anonymous No.14126114]

In the dark, I am reaching through the silk and soak
In your bloomed flower, so red and pink flushed
Ah the sweet nectar of womanhood
I smell the honey, reminds me of sweetest candies
Mouth watered, I indulge the juices from my queen
Indescribable, but so much more be made for me
And we play in the dark
Inspecting each part
Under beds of sheet
Under the spell of aroma
With each hand trace, the way you moan knows that I’m warmer
I haven’t devoured yet, but your lips were already swollen
Into the night, with no one awoken
We play in the dark
Our greatest performance

[Anonymous No.14126157]

>>14125996
Hey this one is intriguing and well-formed, but you should know that this line where it says "unsure what had happened" should maybe be qualified, perhaps "as if unsure." It implies that the person might still be alive or something despite being shot in the head, unless that was your intent. Also, perhaps it would make more sense to say something more like that his eyes had not changed at all in response to his sudden death, having had no time.

[Anonymous No.14126160]

>>14126157
my poem

I lie and pray
That beauty might manifest
And wrap me in itself
Like my mother.

I lie and pray
That music might burst out into reality
And guide me to harbor
Like an albatross.

But I’m not a sailor,
And this is not a ship,
You’re not my mother,
And we’re not going anywhere.

[Anonymous No.14126196]

Shrouded and severed was the blind man
Hiding his eyes, he wrote long hand
“What a lovely bed of ideas”
Now, here with me
Down the spirals of misery

Tense to the touch
Moreover he was afraid
To see the carnage, all in a day
To hear the screams, of men cast away

Im reminded of a painting
Torn and cracked
Of which I’ve lost the meaning
Never to come back

I suppose the times gone by
I forget it was me

“So long”
We said goodbye

Seeing the face kills
Not as easily forgotten
Eyes of Cotten
Soaked in blood

[Anonymous No.14126214]

1/2

“This is Dublin,” she said. “This is us by the River Liffey—that’s Michael—and this is at the Temple… I got so hammered that night Michael and Liv had to carry me home. Michael’s pretty much my best friend in the world. Oh! Don’t look at that one…”

She was swiping through the pictures on her phone, showing me glimpses of her life.

“…And this is when we went strawberry picking at a farm this guy from Stratford’s uncle owns, just outside of Stratford. That’s me and Izzy—the other Izzy… She’s in Toronto now studying fashion.”

I knew she had a boyfriend—she made that pretty clear to me—but I didn’t know where the relationship stood at the time. Every time a picture of him came up, she wouldn’t say a thing, or she would skip it over completely. He was back in Stratford, apparently, getting gigs as an actor on TVO or Nickelodeon, or something. I thought it was bullshit. She was living it up in the ‘big city’, experiencing life away from home for the first time. Couldn’t say the same about myself. And anyone who’s been in any big city anywhere knows London Ontario isn’t exactly that. Isabelle and I had just met; we were in a class together at night school, upgrading credits—something neither of us wanted to be doing.

She snuggled in closer to me. I tried to pay attention—laughing and nodding along when needed—but all I could think about was making a move. I hadn’t expected to find myself in such a situation with her that night, cozied up in her bed like that. The evening had flown by; one of those nights you only seem to have when you’re young, when the hours are longer, and there’s less to expect from any moment. As soon as her roommate Tess had left us alone, it felt like, for the first time since we met, we had a chance to really get to know each other.

When she was finished showing me the pictures on her phone, she set it down, closed her eyes, and let her head rest on my shoulder. We lay there quietly like that, propped up by the pillows, and it seemed to me like she was waiting for me to make the move. I reached over and turned off the lamp. Her hair was dark, medium length and wavy. It had a light and natural smell; a musk that, in those circumstances, quickly became intoxicating. After a few minutes laying there, just enjoying each other’s company in silence, I couldn’t resist any longer. I leaned into her and kissed her forehead. She didn’t budge. Then I kissed her cheek. I softly moved my hand up her stomach and traced my fingers along the side of her ribcage. She arched her back, parted her lips, and exhaled deeply. I knew then that she wanted me.

“Oh, Izzy,” I said, as I pulled her in towards me and pressed my lips to hers.

Suddenly her eyes opened wide. She pulled away from me and turned to face the wall. She had drawn her knees up to her breast and closed herself off to me. I was dumbfounded. For a few moments I didn’t know what to say.

[Anonymous No.14126222]

>>14126214

2/2

I sat up and, gently touching her arm, said, “Izzy… Is everything okay? I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought—”

She began to weep and buried her face in her hands. My heart sank. I didn’t have a clue what it was I’d done wrong. We were in her bed. She had brought me here. She was the one who had cuddled up to me. I thought that she wanted me. What was it about that third kiss that broke the deal?

She continued to cry. I ran my fingers through her hair trying to calm her.

“Izzy,” I said, “I’m sorry. But I don’t understand. What did I do?”

She stopped crying and stared ahead of her at the wall.

“I’m a terrible person,” she said.

“No,” I said, continuing to try and console her.

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“No, you’re not. I thought this was what you wanted.”

She again buried her face in her hands, and looking down at her pitifully, I let a few more agonizing moments of silence drip by. Then she sat up.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” she said.

I stood up in embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” I said, “this is your home. I’ll go sleep on the couch.

I stood there a moment, looking down at her, confused and somewhat ashamed by what had just transpired, while Isabelle stayed stalk-still, seated, staring down at her lap. Then I left the room.

“Goodnight,” I said.

I walked down the hallway to the living room where the bed I was intended to sleep in that night had been laid out on the couch. On the way I noticed Tess’s light still on beneath the closed door of her room, which was immediately across the hall from Izzy’s. I sat down on the couch and threw my head back. I looked out the window at the cold dusk and the light snow falling beneath the waning moon. And then a creak in the floorboards, and I saw Tess’s light flick out in the reflection on the windowpane. I felt dejected and alone.

My bag had been placed at the foot of the couch, and I pulled a mickey of Canadian Club out of it and took a swig. Then I lay back, pulled the sheets up, and closed my eyes to sleep. But I couldn’t.
All I have so far. Comes almost word for word from real life.

[Anonymous No.14126261]

Watchtowers blazed on misty shore
Stood they their vigil in days of yore
Pikeman and lookout tended flame
Until the day the raiders came

Black of sail and pale of keel
Came they by droves to rape and steal
Storms wracked their wakes and whipped the docks
Priests prayed for mercy for their flocks

Hull met bank and planking fell
Dread washed ashore like tidal spell
Shouts met cries as pirates came
Upon child and elder with sword and flame

Blood grouted cobble and painted door
Dead men lined stoop and street by score
A beggar in black with staff of birch
Looked weary on the ashen church

Old songs his whispered and oaths he made
Laid out pitch fork and sharpened spade
Husband of widow and orphan's 'dam
They stood with slaughtered ox and ram

Took they weapons of humble means
Up 'gainst marauder's savage schemes
Cutlass met skull while torch met hair
Such grevious wounds the dead did bear

But tide did turn with raiders felled
With each dead lout the grim ranks swelled
Fled they in droves to clippers fleet
Across grim waters fearful beat

Survivors awed, children stood tall
And watched as those who before their fall
Embraced the living with glassy tears
And silenced now forgotten fears

The beggar in black, his staff in hand
Made no wicked threat or cruel demand
Spoke instead the oath he scribed
That the dead would defend the live

Towers once blazed on misty shore
Stood they their vigil in days of yore
Sunken eyes they need no light
Should black sails rise the dead will fight

[Anonymous No.14126297]

>>14126261
Rule number 12 of poetic composition: If your name isn't Alexander Pope, don't write couplets.

[Anonymous No.14126309]

Short accompaniment piece to my never-to-be published fiction work.

[Anonymous No.14126328]

>>14126214
>She was swiping through the pictures on her phone, showing me glimpses of her life.

A general worry I have with this story is that you can be a little on the nose. Above is a good example. Do you really need to tell me that she's sowing you glimpses of her life after the photo bit?

>one of those nights you only seem to have when you’re young

I'm getting the impression this is the point of the story so maybe, as they say, show don't tell!

>Her hair was dark...

you realize after the lights are off?

>Then I lay back
tense change

Overall I enjoyed this. Two possible things to work on, (1) maybe do less of the whole >specific description, then immediate zoom out to explain behavior
2)Fun way to explain what was bad about her action isn't that she let it happen, but that she wanted it. She identified with it. Working that in could give a nice account of sort of the phenomenology of having conflicting desires, and being disgusted or alienated by some of them.

[Anonymous No.14126331]

>>14126328
above crit is from me. Plz gib feedback and be as harsh as you think is necessary


What could you ever do to fulfill the promise of the day? The last moment of autumn is here. Trees, on the verge of maturity to death, having already dropped their seed, don’t yet menace. Leaves carpet the sidewalks and streets. Snow has come and gone once, and the sun has returned. But its next absence won’t be so short. The forecast alone stings your face like the dreary walks ahead of you. But that is upcoming. Today, ale colored sunshine beaming through, is crisp and livable. No heavy-duty technology is needed to see you through; no machine-spun fabrics are out.

You stand outside. Walk around the block. Smoke a few. The temperature borders glove free weather. But you have to bear the cold in your extremities while you can, before it’s too much. It’s always too much. The mist, the foliage all around, your breath hanging in the air, it’s all too close. You’ll brood then.

But the time to bask is now. The sun will retreat to the south until the geese return. You text that one girl, no response. You just want to sit in the grass, color in your cheeks before the turn. She needn’t talk much. “But she won’t even regard the moment, the day.” Maybe you’re glad she’s busy. Your, let alone her, internal states are never that intelligible, though.

So you walk to the park. It’s not a day for cars. Stare at the water. Light dances on the surface. Every ripple proceeds towards the shore always. You’re bored. You’re lonely. “It’s too nice for this.”

The quality of the day has real weight; the yoke you bear gestures to no other explanation. “There would be wine, of course. Disposable, plastic glasses perhaps. Or no, the occasion demands the real glassware. Some cheese, maybe nuts, no meat though,” you think. Another cigarette reaches its end; only the filter remains. You’re attuned. Breezes pass through you. It seems irreducible.

There’re children playing in the distance, on the grass, rolling and chasing. You don’t envy them now, but just what lays ahead of them the novelty, the intrigue, the feeling. And perhaps, this is what is so unattainable about the girl. She feels something, not drowned out by the multiplicity, the overwhelming abundance of a single, atomic state indistinguishable from the rest. Because the day is too much, the burden will be gone when the snow makes its home. And you’ll look back, realization and all, demonstrably aware that this was all there ever was, anyway.

[Anonymous No.14127393]

>>14126062
lemme guess, semi-autobiography, right.

[Anonymous No.14128941]

Bump

[Anonymous No.14128955]

>>14125512
>tfw I want to major in Eng lit/CW so I can be the best writer I can be
>tfw too stupid for scholarships
>tfw mummy no money
Should I just go into something with a milquetoast literary vibe compared to English like Sociology, Economics etc etc. I don't want to teach :-f

[Anonymous No.14129041]

>>14126196
5/10. Too ambiguous. the whole first stanza is full of awwkard phrasings.

[Anonymous No.14129377]

Rend the right to life
Run the butcher knife
Hard into their heart
Heave and cleave apart
Yearn to be unkind
Yearn for peace of mind

Find the fairness in
Fear and tearing skin
When they wail and plea
Wrily grin with glee
That's to be unkind
That is peace of mind

Notice that every two lines have three words that start with the same letter, two on the upper line one on the lower.

[Spoiler/]I am losing it[/spoiler]

[Anonymous No.14129754]

I wrap my arm around you
and you pull me in further,
savouring the pressure.

Hands entwined,
I rest my head on yours,
and run my fingers in your palm.

We feel the morning's opression,
with its predestined embarassment
that accompanies sobriety.

But for now we hold each other,
Breathing each others' air;
Breathing the air of now.

[Anonymous No.14129761]

[Anonymous No.14129845]

>>14126261
love it, bold to use heroic couplets

[Anonymous No.14129927]

What do you think about listening to music while writing? Distracting or inspiring?

[Anonymous No.14130058]

>>14129927
I do it sometimes, never all the time. If I can get another angle to look at something from, that's good. I always end on a proofread without anything playing though. Then again I haven't posted work in two threads I think.

[Anonymous No.14130186]

Not trying to be an asshole, I'll crit tomorrow I'm too tired now . I'll post mine in the meantime:


I fall -
Flooding my shadow fills the ground, damping the metropolis and sand under my feet.
Bounces a distant echo of intimation. The lungs are swollen and emptied with fury on thousands of faceless and nameless tin soldiers.
In my hand, a cup of rubble: I squeeze. More sand.

-EI! -
Mh ...?
-EI! What the fuck are you doing?
The fog dissipates. The train's lullaby resumes its mechanicality and cacophony. My attention dribbles from the energum with the bulging eyes and the window, clashing with the monotony of the gallery.
-This asshole doesn't even know where he is...-
-Excuse me, I .. what's the problem? -
A statue, movemenr revealed only by a raging heart and by the contracted and vibrating veins on the whole face.
Beat after beat, more and more distant. He closes his eyelids, turns around.
-Forget it. I thought you had it with me ...-
He rubs his jacket, I hear him blubbering as he changes cabin.
My fingers cling around the handle like creepers. The flash with which I smash his head, followed the dull "tuck" of the blow/ the thunder. He manages to scream but lands like a deflated mannequin.

[Anonymous No.14130200]

When I learned that violets weren't actually blue, my life turned upside down. It was like everything I thought I knew was a lie. Upon reflecting on my past, I realized that things weren't they way they seemed. It was a strange feeling which can only be described as growing up.

[Anonymous No.14130212]

>>14126100
Fixed a lot of these, thanks.
>>14125960
I don't know what that is, but I doubt it.

I would love to give crit to a lot of what I have read in the thread but I don't feel I know enough about anything to be constructive. Especially poetry, I just don't understand it.

>>14125519
2/2

[Anonymous No.14130267]

>>14126100
Fixed a lot of these, thanks.
>>14125960
I don't know what that is, but I doubt it.

I would love to give crit to a lot of what I have read in the thread but I don't feel I know enough about anything to be constructive. Especially poetry, I just don't understand it.

>>14125519
2/2

[Anonymous No.14130279]

>>14126100
Fixed a lot of these, thanks.
>>14125960
I don't know what that is, but I doubt it.

I would love to give crit to a lot of what I have read in the thread but I don't feel I know enough about anything to be constructive. Especially poetry, I just don't understand it.

>>14125519
2/2

[Anonymous No.14130439]

>>14125512
A poem

Oh let me go, in search of rising suns,
With brothers basked in glorifying light.
Vermilion Men, their eyes horizon bound,
The start of eras bright and new in sight.

Oh set me free, or I must run away,
For life calls louder than your hollow song.
Virility, it heats the heart of boys.
Atop your thrones as men they'll soon belong.

You'd have me be indebted and a slave!
To powers that you founded long ago.
You cling to life so gracelessly, you fool!
Just to keep us puppets in your show!

Below brows beaten, broken and betrayed.
Lie deep desires, deeper than your lies.
For if you gazed at countenances young,
You'd find the dreams of tempests in their eyes.

I turn now to you brothers, hear my call!
If it be now or far past my last days!
Repulse the ropes that pull you to the depths!
And hold the world upright beside God's rays!

Fly into paper arms of masters old!
For we are not the first to fight this beast!
Dead Men told tales just to preserve the light!
We must revere those mentors now deceased!

We climb with Sisyphus us burdened beasts,
Our song began as soon as we drew breath!
Now make your daggers sharp for they'll be used,
From this day forth until you reach your death!

[Anonymous No.14130465]

>>14126062
Yessir

[Anonymous No.14130612]

Premiere Gymnopedie

her darkened form, veil spreads over
voluminisms making love to the skinless
sproutlings of finitude to pinprick pull
wrap my arms around the torso of hell
the loneliest kiss to invigorate her neck
the hands that run through her hair to the sky
the blackened blankets draped over us
and a tired, weeping intimacy that declines to ground
as she stares towards the hollow images before us
I love you /lit/

[Anonymous No.14130821]

>>14126062
Suddenly I was standing on the sidewalk outside of my office building, about 25 yards away, looking at my own mangled corpse. It lie there lifeless on the sidewalk, blood starting to pool underneath it, the crimson fluid staining my favorite green jacket. Why’d I have to kill myself wearing my favorite jacket? A woman who my body landed near was still screaming as a horrified crowd started to gather. Ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance. My ears were getting cold from being out there…

“Well James, let’s see what types of messed up things you convinced yourself of this time around.”

“Dr. Wright, this is the third suicide scenario we’ve been through today. I can’t imagine my cognitive distortions leading up to this one were much different from the other two…”

He walked away before I could finish my sentence, white lab coat flicking in the breeze. I’ll tell ya, the man was committed to his craft. I just wanted to leave the ether and jerk off at my apartment but he was putting his life on the line to help me. Sticking around was the least I could do. Ms. Barovsky, my old therapist, would’ve never done something like this, not even for a million dollars. And for her that’s saying a lot.

Dr. Wright walked directly through the crowd gathering around my body — literally through them like Danny Phantom — and pulled out his inception briefcase. I just call it that because it looks like the device they used to enter dreams in that overrated Inception movie and it makes Dr. Wright mad. He knelt down and unfolded the briefcase all the way around so that the two halves joined together to from a sleek mechanical box with different colored knobs and buttons. He pulled a pair of parallel wires from the machine and stuck the electrode ends of them into the hair clinging to my battered skull. The machine fired up and shifting green wavelengths flashed across a small LCD screen towards the top of it then the machine spat out probably 200 pieces of paper at a rate that would puts the dusty CANON in my office to shame.

Dr. Wright then calmly strolled back to me, his glasses glimmering in the sunlight, his bushy white mustache stopping the wind in its tracks.

“Your assignment for next session: Read this in its entirety. Circle every cognitive distortion you had that morning leading up to your suicidal thoughts and write down what type of distortion it was. Labeling? Filtering? Mind reading? Write it down. Then counter the thought with a positive thought — but only one that you actually believe.”

“That will take me forever—“

“You’ve got a week until our next therapy session. Do you want to get better or do you want keep having panic attacks every day?”

[Anonymous No.14130972]

I was really lost. I mean I really had no idea what I was doing. I had just graduated college and moved to a new city I'd never lived in before, New York City, and I really just had no idea what I was doing, or was supposed to be doing. I'd look for jobs I didn't want and couldn't get even if I wanted them, walk all day or sit at a cafe or in a park writing in my journal about God knows what. My muscles were stiff as all hell; it felt like they were tied and knots, cracking and twitching all the time. Anxious as ever.

At least I could afford it all, the apartment and my book habits (not that I ever read much). The parents supplied my funds. They probably could've paid for me indefinitely if I stopped going out. But what else was there to do?

For the first time I really had no idea what to do, or what I wanted to do. I knew what I was supposed to do but that held no appeal. Getting a job in some office or going to high-class trade school like law, dentistry, finance, education. In college I had some sort of plan and a sense of purpose: learning and talking about what I had learned with others, getting into deep, emotional discussions late into the evening. When it was all said and done everybody went to their own city to go do their own thing. It was expected that these people I had known so well, better than I had known anybody before, were to just leave my life forever. They were supposed to be aquatintences now, I suppose. "Old buddies." Instead of feeling matured, complete, all I felt was like a phantom. I hadn't a clue who I was anymore. I became a ghost to even myself.

[Anonymous No.14131042]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pJqCih-mopCiBYZmtIqMZfWYHCtNmnc6vEj1MeTiBTE/edit?usp=sharing

first real "chapter" of my nanowrimo project. pls respond

[Anonymous No.14131073]

>>14126261
this shit slaps