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A Personal Manifesto - Chapter 1
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A Personal Manifesto - Chapter 1 |
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Endlessecho Member
since 2003-09-05
Posts 398I live within myself |
This was the workings of a story of a girl's perceptions on her life and herself, but seem to be more like differant thoughts. I guess they're going to be fill-ins for an actual story, if I ever get around to writing it someday. I've decided to put the chapters I have in here as separate prose entries. The chapters are short and some are very short. Hopefully it won't be too confusing, but the chapters shift time periods between a girl's childhood, adolescence and the present. I realize gaps are missing. But, I would really appreciate comments. Well, I guess I can stop rambling now. On to Chapter One: A Personal Manifesto Chapter 1 The music plays in the background, soothing me as I sit at my computer. My eyelids listlessly blink up and down and down, but my mind is awake, very much awake. The keys go along with the music, light drumbeat taps, as I type. My eyes squint because the screen seems so much brighter tonight and I glance down at the corner to see the time is now 3:54 in the morning. I’ve been here for almost six hours straight now, yet I can’t leave because my hands are still moving and the thoughts continuing to come, flowing from the back of my mind; hidden thoughts pushing out sick of being trapped and silenced. It’s as though my mind is screaming and my hands, afraid of what’s to come, dance, dance, dance as the bullets rain down on their “feet”. My mother was a woman that I loved, but I didn’t admire. I cared for her, but I could never trust her. I needed her, but she was never there. She was wounded in her own life, so she was unable to help me with mine and I understood that. Part of me will always be a little angry for not being able to have taken part in many of the joys of being someone’s child that I wouldn’t know of, but there were many aspects of being a daughter that I did receive. I’ll always remember her patience when I would keep her up all night because I was sick or scared. I know I could never have my mother’s patience. My father was not patient. He was quick to get angry. He tried very hard to bond, but he had no idea how. He would joke and tease, but it just reminded us of the insults he would throw at mom that weren’t a joke, that injured her in the deep places within her heart and soul that were never really noticed. My sisters, my allies; we know too much of each other ever to lose each other. Your siblings are the part of your life that is a part of you. They are part of your flesh, blood, past, present and, regardless of your relationship with them, your future. I recall my sister’s widow peak, the Barbie dolls, dancing on the ceiling and jumping on the bed. I recall sitting on the top stairs with our hands over our ears to cover up the shouts from downstairs, to drown out our mother’s screams. To this day I’ll never forgive myself for being such a coward. I remember my little blue nightgown, staring at pale white legs underneath the ruffled hem. Staring through my tears with my head bowed. I curl my toes and press my heels into the rug. I grew up alone and the secret of friendship always alluded me. I was a silent child who knew far too well that words were weapons. I did not know yet that they could heal as well. I followed the rule that “children should be seen and not heard,” but in my mind I was bold and audacious and the thoughts that swept through there would make monuments shout in surprise. My sisters learned early to spend as much time away from home as possible. I had nowhere to go, so I went inside myself and could easily shut out everything and everyone in my home. When I reached my early teen years I came to realize that my home life was far from normal and this isn’t how it always is. Life doesn’t have to be like this. I saw that some husbands listen to their wife’s opinions and that the women had opinions of their own. I always knew they did, because I was a woman (and proud of it despite my father’s distaste) and I had many views. But, I saw that they could be vocal about them; that they didn’t have to fight to be heard, but they could discuss them freely, truly interested in what the other person had to say. I was amazed and I began to wonder if perhaps someone would be interested in what I had to say as well. By now, I had opinions on almost anything that could be brought up. I spoke up at dinner at a friend’s house shocking myself, so impressed. These small steps I know went unnoticed by everyone else, but they were monumental to me and gave me the courage to continue to grow. I began to open up to a select few. Imagine my shock when they found me interesting – sometimes even fascinating. It was then that I realized the incredible power of words and I fell in love with them. I knew the power could be used in any avenue and I chose to mold them for myself. I started to write. Writing was my passion. Writing was my escape. I wrote poetry. At first, I hid it. It was enough just to have it on paper. Finally, I shared it. Cautiously at first, like an animal caught in a trap. On one hand wanting to be freed, but on the other afraid that it’s rescuer will only do more harm than good. [This message has been edited by Endlessecho (02-06-2004 05:07 PM).] |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Echo, I read the above and was impressed with where you want to go. Your critique box is open, so may I make a suggestion? I may? Great! Your writing struck me as being very familiar to myself. I did a copy/paste and put your story in my Word program and did a quick spell and grammar check. You are similar to me in that we write in a passive voice. I don't mind the use of contractions, as does Word, but there was some punctuation usage that you may want to consider revising. Overall, while it's difficult for me to write in the first person, [perhaps because it could become too personal!  ] I like the way you are going about this, and I'm looking forward to reading more.Oh by the way. This was my 3rd attempt to come read this...whew! I finally had time to give it my full attention! More, please? |
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Sadelite Member Elite
since 2003-10-11
Posts 2519 |
endlessecho, I really like the way you're giving a lot essential background here-I can feel what you're saying. I had just a speck of time getting into the first paragraph because I'm not much of a reader. Authors usually have to grab my interest in their first two or three sentences or I tend to put the book down (I know, that doesn't say much for my patience, and I also know I've missed out on tremendous books that way, but it's just the way my mind works.) You first grabbed my attention when you spoke of the six hours on the computer, an action I can truly identify with! After I got to that sentence, you hit a home run, keeping my attention throughout. I'm glad you're writing. I enjoy learning about you and reading your works. ~Sadelite~ |
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Endlessecho Member
since 2003-09-05
Posts 398I live within myself |
Sunshine and Sadelite – Thank you so much! I will be the first to admit that my grammar leaves much to be desired. It’s funny because I’m usually so good at grammar. Proofreading is even part of my job, but when I write something like this, I’m never really certain how to apply the grammar rules. I guess because I’m writing in thoughts and my thoughts don’t exactly follow proper English. But, I realize, that if I intend to ever make this into a story, I’d better correct that, especially the punctuation which has specific guidelines, so I appreciate your comments. I will try very hard in my next parts, but I know there will still be mistakes. Sometimes it’s hard to say it in a way that is natural and yet correct. You know what I mean? Thanks.  I started this over a year ago and just went back and read over the chapters. Now, I am hesitating slightly about putting them in. Yes, it seems scarily personal when you write in first person, but that comes so much more naturally to me. It’s much easier than for me to try to create thoughts in third person. But, I am going to put the next parts in. At least the next few. Sunshine – The fact that you could in anyway compare my writing style with yours, overwhelms me. I’m not trying to insincerely flatter you here. I really think I have a ways to grow before I can reach writing in such a polished style as you do. Thank you for the kind comments. What, to you, is a “passive voice”? I think I understand what you mean, but just wanted your comments on it. Sadelite – I’m glad you feel I’m giving a good background here. Sometimes I feel like I’m always too vague. Unfortunately the next parts of this story are not so concise and together. But, I hope you enjoy reading them. Thank you for continuing through the first paragraph and commenting on my writing. |
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