Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Rejection letters, non-responses can really weigh a writer down. Being a beginner, I'm doing my time, forced to accept these sorts of things. Sadly, I think I put too much stock in it. In response to this frustration and, in some ways, hurt, here is a rather emotive, single-graph piece I wrote roughly three years ago and edited today. I promise not everything will be this depressing. "Alone - A brief burst of feeling"

Slowly and steadily he walks into his room. Closing the door quietly behind him, he turns to face the darkness. There is no one inside. He is... This feeling strikes him even though he was expecting it. He knew the whole time that he would be by himself. The boy walks deeper into his room and pauses again. He is still... Now what? He looks at his computer and his heart sinks. I could talk to someone, then I wouldn’t feel so... As he sits down he begins to click on the screen-name of an old high school friend. It’s pointless. I’ll still be... He stands up and faces his room again. With determination the boy reaches toward the clothing that lies on his bed. No longer feeling or thinking, he drags the clothes off the bed and lets the fall to the floor. Am I watching myself? He has just received the notion that he is having an out-of-body experience. It’s like a movie; a very depressed person has just realized how much is missing from his once happy life. The boy curls his fingers around the bottom of his shirt and slowly raises his arms. Once his head had been ejected from his shirt he holds it and stares. The shirt hit floor. Desperate for more freedom he removes his shorts. No one is here. No one cares. Now standing in his underwear he looks around the room once more. Slowly turning his head he searches for something, anything. Nothing. In a sudden revelation he grabs his phone off of his desk and turns the ringer off, denying company. Having given up on finding someone to hold he slowly puts himself on his bed, stomach first. He reaches behind him and pulls the sheet and comforter (How ironic. It’s bullshit) up to his neck. Burying his face in his pillow he finally releases. Pillow soaked, he drifts away and loses consciousness, alone.

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