Criticizes - Tumblr Posts

Excerpt From My WIP

Feel free to critique my writing :D

Have you ever seen someone's vulnerable interiority? Those few moments far in between where a human decanter has been abused and left to pour their despair at your feet. As if you were a God? As if they were praying with their cries as hymns?

I always feared those moments. I feared many interesting things growing up.

I feared the day when mom would die. How I would be the only person who could be at the funeral.

I feared the day when someone would confess their love for me. How the light in their eyes would be twirling like flames with hope, or maybe shaking with fear?

I feared the moment when I could see someone in their purest moment. How I would be left with the choice of saying "I see you" or letting the moment fall past.

I feared those moments not because I was scared of grief, or scared of romance, or scared of another person.

In reality, I was scared of myself. Or my lack of self to be more apt. Confused? Don't worry. I'll explain myself.

To say that I "lack" emotions would be inaccurate. I can feel annoyance whenever a distraction interfers with my necessities. I occassionally have pangs of joy. I have felt grief. Joy. Love

unfortunately.

My emotions aren't strong.

When I was confessed to by a school companion in my youth with a two dollar flower and a million dollar smile, I felt an underlining of annoyance at this lackluster gesture. I quitely rejected them. I still made sure to grab the poor flower and put them in a vase as my mom always told me I should. Although, I never thought about them since that moment.

When a radiant sunshine revealed a tiny little hint of deeper awareness beneath their conspicuous joyfulness, I ignored it. That was the only time I had ever seen a pained smile of their face. There were some tears lighting up their eyes. I would never have that moment again. I ruined it.

The moment that sealed my fate was when my mother died after forcing her way through torturous chemo treatments and her own deterioration. At the bedside of own of the most loving angels that could ever grace this world, I couldn't even wring enough emotion out of me to cry authentically. I felt genuine sadness for her passing and joy for her rewarded sufferance, that was true. But it didn't feel like enough. This was the woman who raised me and I didn't even have the heart to be sad for the rest of my life.

At that moment, my greatest fears had come true, I was a grotesque monster who couldn't even bring myself to cry genuinely at my own mother's funeral. I spent more time in my childhood cottage thinking about my father more than my mother.

My father always called me a "nothing child" when I was younger. I still remember the exact words my mother said to me after she chased my father out of the house for the last time, "you aren't useless".

Maybe that was what my father meant when he called me a "nothing child" Maybe he really was trying to call me useless. But when my angelic mother died, when my companion was lost in romance, and when I lost the opportunity to discover humanity underneath my friend's exterior, I truly was a nothing child.