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Literature Text
Are we still on the two sisters idea?
No.
Okay. What else you got?
Maybe nothing.
You have something, what is it?
I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.
You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.
I know. I'm scared.
Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?
You seem real.
...
And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.
Shall we go over the rules?
Don't write clichéd phrases.
Do you know what that entails?
No. I don't really like how writing has rules. Grammar I can understand, it helps the reader along. But everything else just kills the enjoyment and fun of writing. I'm too scared to write.
Describe me something.
There's a white Kleenex on the floor, with a wasp underneath it. We squashed it with a shoe earlier, but it was still twitching, so someone threw a Kleenex over it. I'm wondering right now if the wasp is suffocating underneath it. It's a very stark white against the ugly carpet, which is generic in that there's a million colors inside- blue and orange and yellow and brown and grey- but it's all just ugly.
....
Did I do a good job?
I cant tell you that.
Then who will?
Maybe no one. Would you ever trust anyone's opinion?
No.
Mine?
Definitely not.
Why not?
You're me. You'll sugar coat the truth and love it. I don't want to hear.
You're wrong.
How?
I hate your work, hate it with every fiber of my being. I want to claw it up
and rip it down and fix the world so that you don't ever have to try to write again.
That bad, huh?
Don't use platitudes, you sound idiotic. I can always tell that you're writing for them and not you when you say dumb shit like that.
So who am I supposed to ask?
You should figure it out for yourself. You have to be confident in something, or you'll never prosper. Or be happy. I want you to be happy.
Of course you do. You're me. I want to be happy more than anything.
I think you should ask yourself a question.
What's the question.
What's stopping you?
No.
Okay. What else you got?
Maybe nothing.
You have something, what is it?
I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.
You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.
I know. I'm scared.
Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?
You seem real.
...
And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.
Shall we go over the rules?
Don't write clichéd phrases.
Do you know what that entails?
No. I don't really like how writing has rules. Grammar I can understand, it helps the reader along. But everything else just kills the enjoyment and fun of writing. I'm too scared to write.
Describe me something.
There's a white Kleenex on the floor, with a wasp underneath it. We squashed it with a shoe earlier, but it was still twitching, so someone threw a Kleenex over it. I'm wondering right now if the wasp is suffocating underneath it. It's a very stark white against the ugly carpet, which is generic in that there's a million colors inside- blue and orange and yellow and brown and grey- but it's all just ugly.
....
Did I do a good job?
I cant tell you that.
Then who will?
Maybe no one. Would you ever trust anyone's opinion?
No.
Mine?
Definitely not.
Why not?
You're me. You'll sugar coat the truth and love it. I don't want to hear.
You're wrong.
How?
I hate your work, hate it with every fiber of my being. I want to claw it up
and rip it down and fix the world so that you don't ever have to try to write again.
That bad, huh?
Don't use platitudes, you sound idiotic. I can always tell that you're writing for them and not you when you say dumb shit like that.
So who am I supposed to ask?
You should figure it out for yourself. You have to be confident in something, or you'll never prosper. Or be happy. I want you to be happy.
Of course you do. You're me. I want to be happy more than anything.
I think you should ask yourself a question.
What's the question.
What's stopping you?
Literature
Cinnamon Souls
"You're mixing water in your coke again."
"I know."
"You do that when you worry."
"I'm always worried."
"No, you're usually cinnamon-in-your-tea worried. This is water-in-coke worried and that is seriously beginning to freak me out."
"I know."
"..."
"What?"
"What are you worried about?"
"You're going to think it's stupid."
"Try me."
"Well...do you ever wonder about the kind of guy you're waiting for?"
"I think we all wonder about that guy, love."
"I've been thinking about him more often than not lately. What he would be like, I mean."
"Oh. Well...if it helps any, I know what mine would be like."
"Really?"
"Sure. He will be tal
Literature
A girl I used to know
There used to be a girl
Who I'd talk to everyday
We always had a laugh
And had so much to say
But one day she dissapeared
Just vanished into mid-air
I don't know where she went
It's as if she was never there
A long time later she came back
But she was a subject of change
She was like a different person
Even her touch felt strange
Everytime I see her now
I think back to how it used to be
Now she has returned however
She barely even remembers me
There is a girl I know
Who I see everyday
But we no longer talk
As we have nothing to say
Literature
Crayon Soulmates
Dear Stars,
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have su
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Had to write "an argument" for my beginning fiction class. this isn't what i submitted- the prompt was to write an argument where the reader could empathize with both people, so what i submitted what something else entirely. but i had a mock argument with my muse to get started/pumped up, and i thought i'd put it up here.
as you can probably see, my muse and i have a love-hate relationship, heh.
writing @ ~AndThenYou
as you can probably see, my muse and i have a love-hate relationship, heh.
writing @ ~AndThenYou
© 2012 - 2024 AndThenYou
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Very nice! I love the the colloquial word choice here, the obvious tension in the love-hate relationship, and the ambiguous ending. Certainly the ending! It leaves the reader not only with a question of who wins your argument, but also what is stopping or holding back the reader in his or her own life. Lovely piece!