Well, I took a course on Creative Writing this semester, and the one big assignment for the class was to write a 5-page piece of writing to be submitted and critiqued by the entire class in an open discussion. A major revision of the piece was also required. Anywho, this is my piece after the major revision. I dunno, it's an alright piece of writing. It's really way too angsty and whiney for my tastes, but I wrote it, so what does that say about me, eh?
Anywho, Wazzy said it was good, and everyone in my class was absolutely bonkers about it, so I figured I'd see what the folks on PSOW thought of it. The language is a bit nasty, so I'd just like to suggest that anybody who might be offended to click back. It's nothing you haven't seen in Rants though, so I guess there's really nothing to worry about.
Without further babbling, here's "Introspection." (Not really a fan of the title - just slapped it on there last minute because it didn't have one.)
(Oh yeah, I hope I formatted it properly for PSOW so there aren't any of those annoying question marks where they shouldn't be.)
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Introspection
I don't like this. I don't like this.
They never told me it was supposed to be anything like this, and I don't even know what "this" is at this point. "This is at this point"? That doesn't sound right. Jesus Christ, what am I talking about?
There's always been something in the back of my mind, and it's just been sitting there for years. It's like a gremlin or some other crap like that; it's something out of a movie and it's not going anywhere. Gnawing, scratching, buzzing and biting - it just won't go away.
Christ, where am I? This doesn't look like the street I was on before. It's too dark to see the sign 'cause some jackass knocked out the streetlight with a rock or something. Why do people have to destroy things to make themselves feel better?
I'm falling apart and I don't even know why. If anything, I should be happy. Haven't things been going my way recently? I was talking to Jill earlier. She's so in love with me. But she was complaining about her boyfriend/crush/whatever Steve. Saying that he gets so clingy and paranoid. He's always complaining to her about things that shouldn't be a problem. She can't understand what's wrong with him. I didn't have time to tell her my own problems. Besides, she's part of them, how could I say that stuff to her face? But man, I feel like I'm about to explode. I'm about to burst into flames and shrapnel and just waste everything around me.
I feel like Monty Jones... or Monty Brogan... or whatever the hell Ed Norton's character was named in 25th Hour. Do you remember that movie? No, of course you don't. Nobody saw that but me and my friends.
Where the hell are my friends, anyway? I thought they were supposed to drive home with me. Argh.
There's this scene. Monty's in a bathroom, staring at the mirror and cursing out everything in the world. He hates it all. Especially that filth in Manhattan, his own hometown. He wants the sea to rise up and claim New York and wash away all the sin and the pain. Everyone should die and there should be nothing left. Nobody seems to get that scene. They don't get the point of it. Monty doesn't hate it all. He's in love. He is so deeply in love with the life that he has. He condemns himself at the end because he knows that it's all just for show. He screwed up. He made the mistake. There's no reason anyone else should screw up just because he was going to lose everything that he loved.
There it is again. The buzzing. Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-SHUT UP!! How am I supposed to focus on the road with this incessant noise going on?
Tom Sawyer was able to get a bunch of kids to do the whitewashing for him, wasn't he? Why can't I do that? Not trick kids into doing work; that's easy stuff. I wanna whitewash my brain. Let's wipe everything clean and then maybe once it's all gone I can find that Goddamn demon and throttle his brains out. I hate myself with this constant worry and I just want to get rid of it.
2:57 AM. The dashboard clock seems really bright for some reason. It's like I can't keep my eyes off of it. It's the same green as her eyes. Wait, three o'clock? My buddy wanted his car back. Wasn't I supposed to be home by now?
Home? Forget home. I don't even have a place I feel right about now. It's all been tainted by this imaginary problem inside of me. Everywhere I go it's like I'm running from something that's not coming. I can't rest. Why can't I sit down and not feel like it's all just crushing me from the outside? Why can't I just accept the fact that Jill is in love with Steve? Why does it have to be love? It can't be love. It's not supposed to cause people pain, but those two together only causes me pain.
Buzz-buzz.
I remember the time Steve and Jill first met up. It was really kinda funny. They met at a party, and it just turned out that they were both being the DD's for their friends. They got to talking and really hit it off. The party was going downhill but nobody wanted to leave just yet. So of course the only two sober people in the room snuck out and drove off. They didn't come home until the next morning, and everyone was talking about what they had done. They had only been talking though. Boy, everyone was pissed they lost their rides home, though.
I remember how Jill had looked at that party. She was so beautiful. The entire room was filled with different kinds of smoke. It was getting so you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. And yet, I could see her so clearly. I don't know what it was. Her colors just cut right through the smoke. You've never seen or felt anything like her colors. The red of her hair and the green of her eyes. This glow that came from her skin - the blinding white of her perfect mouth, her pink lips.
God, I fucking hate Steve.
He gets everything he wants and he just can't be happy. It's like it doesn't matter if he only had the shirt on his back or if he's surrounded by luxury; he's just always unhappy and wanting something better. He can't just accept that he's already got a great life. Things don't always have to go wrong!
Jill always loved Steve for his colors. She loved his blue eyes and the sandy-blond hair, but you couldn't see that from across the room. You couldn't feel him like you could feel her.
Aw crap, I missed the turn-off.
Why is it that the more I think about what's wrong in my life, the worse I feel, yet, the worse I feel, the more I have to think about what's wrong in my life? Jill keeps pointing this out to me, but I won't listen. She can't understand what's wrong with me. I'll think of normal happy thoughts, when all of a sudden doubts and fears will pop into my mind.
Steve and Jill, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-
What was that!? Where the hell did that come from!? It was some kind of dog or something, and I just barely swerved away from hitting it. It's gone. Goddamn dog jumped out of the bushes and almost made me crash my car. These streets are so dark and I swear that a goddamn dog just ran out in the street. Wait, there are bushes on this street, I think went the wrong way. It looks like it started raining, pretty hard. What was I thinking about? My buddy asked why I swerved and I told him about the dog. What the heck does he mean, "there wasn't anything in the street"? Now which street was I supposed to get off on?
I'm so lost and I don't know where I'm going. You'd think something this simple would be easier to do. She told me to be careful about getting lost. That sometimes we can't see what's coming before it's too late. I kissed her that night, but nobody else knew. I kissed her and she kissed me. Her lips were so soft, and the tears coming from her eyes touched my face and ran down to my chin. I tried to say she should leave Steve and never look back. He's self-destructive and has emotional problems and all he'll do is ruin her and use her. I started to feel overwhelmed. We had been talking about life, and she had told me that she didn't want it to become too much to bear - that she could share the burden. I tried to tell her that she shouldn't. We didn't even sleep together, and I knew everybody would probably think that's what happened. We couldn't possibly. I'm not good enough for her, and I don't think I could ever be. She's Steve's girl. Steve and Jill. Steve and Jill kissing. Ugh, I can't think about it. I had to leave when I thought about him and her.
I feel like some stupid angst-filled teenager. I feel like I should dress all in black, write bad poetry in a notebook, listen to crappy music and totally rip on people on the internet in a DeadJournal when I get home. I'm an adult, damnit. I shouldn't be acting like this. I should be taking things in stride and I shouldn't be so scared of things going right.
Is that my problem? I'm scared of things finally going right?
Shit. I could've sworn I just saw Steve glaring at me from the driver's side mirror. This is getting to be too much. Where the hell was that entrance ramp?
I pull over so that I can try and gather my thoughts and find the right way home, though I guess I stopped a little too quickly. I step out of the car and spread the map out on top of the hood. The wind is a little chilly, and the road is damp. Everything's a little misty and clouded - I guess it rained. I don't remember that happening. I don't feel right. It's like time is moving slowly for me, and I'm sitting in my own failure for longer than I have to. Crap, I haven't the foggiest idea where we are. And of course my friend starts bugging me about it. 'You stupid shit, of course you got us lost'; 'Stop whining about your problems. Your life is perfect.'; 'You don't deserve her, you know that.'
I don't want to deal with this. I don't like this. I take off my outer shirt - I haven't even changed since work - and lay it down beside the map. I lose focus and start staring at the nametag on it. From the first stupid twisting snake-letter at the beginning to the everyman vowel at the end, I hate it. I hate everything it stands for.
God, I fucking hate it.
And he still won't shut up. He's yelling in my ear now. "Why are you doing this? Just accept that you don't have any problems! Things are fine and that's good! Stop being an ass and suck it up. Nobody likes your pessimistic bitching and they're all sick of you trying to force it onto them. Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-BUZZ!"
Fuck this! I lunge at him. I can feel my fingers closing around his neck and my lips pulling back to reveal a grin. It's all going so perfectly. I'm laughing as he sputters and coughs and things just keep getting clearer and clearer. I pull my fingers tighter and feel his muscles tense up in a useless effort to withstand me. The small bones of his neck break one by one as I squeeze into his flesh. I'm twisting his neck side to side and feeling myself move with his body. This is what you get when you hurt me. You hurt the ones I love and I'll never let you forget it. The blood leaves his face and he begins to turn blue. It's the most beautiful shade I've ever seen. More beautiful than her colors. His eyes are rolling back into his head and I can feel him clawing at my face and tearing it up with sharp twangs of pain but it just doesn't make a difference.
And just as soon as it all started, he stops. His body goes limp and I feel his breathing stop. It takes me a few seconds to unclench my hands but I manage to do it. Odd, it was so easy. I feel one last rush before the adrenaline stops. He hardly put up any kind of struggle. I spit on him and walk back to my car.
But I'm dead. I'm lying on the street and I'm dying and I don't know what just happened. There's blood all over the place and it's mine and oh God, I'm dying. I'm dying on a lonely road and I can't feel my arms. Things are getting clearer and my heart isn't pounding like it was. There's no one else around. Nobody was in my car with me. I didn't stop and get out on my own - there was an accident, or was it really an accident? And I went through the windshield. It's a bloody mess and I can slowly start to feel myself floating away. I didn't kill anyone else but I was holding the wheel so tightly and I drove myself into a tree and now I'm looking at my corpse and there are these two faded pools in my face and the sapphire is gone. It's like looking into a mirror, and watching as your reflection just stares back at you with a dumbfounded look; but it almost looks like I'm crying.
And the last thing I see is her face.
Her colors.
God, she's so beautiful.
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Outrider on 2004-12-15 16:47 ]</font>
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