The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room1
By A. M. Adrian2
written Wednesday, July 7, 2004.3
I have to be up in a measly six hours to go to my mother's dentist appointment because I might get to go shopping afterwards. My closet can barely hold any more clothes, and there is a huge pile of shoes blocking my closet doors from closing.4
I really need to stop doing this. At least if I get up early in the morning, I can sit and watch strange, early-morning television shows instead of the white-trash-vision my mother has forbidden me from watching but we both know I've seen it anyway. The girl on the Howard Stern show when I was flipping channels had long blond hair that covered more of her flesh than the skimpy bikini she hopes will somehow make her famous.5
I want to be a model. Maybe then someone will remember me, miss me when I'm gone, if I can just get my face projected through the stars and up to somewhere everyone wants to get down from, but maybe they are too scared to learn how.6
I am learning to deal with the bad days that punctuate the ever widening chasm of highs and lows that are beginning to grip my young life. It's a painful vice, and I don't know how to unhinge its starving jaws. The days when everything you touch just fades away in a painful manner and nothing is working so you get on the internet and avoid your friends because if they can't talk the rejection will hurt too much anyway.7
I want desperately right now to bathe in a warm copse of sunlight, to let the dangerous rays pierce my eyelids and when I come home with sunburn pretend to be concerned because everyone knows my mom has skin cancer. My reddened fingertips would melt everything they touched, which isn't a far stretch of my completely fucked reality anyway because, of course, nothing went quite right today, but it was close enough to make me cry.8
Someday, I will delve into a world of sheer something-ness, completely comfortable and yet looking forward to the things ahead. Or maybe when people talk about that, they're just remembering the supposed easy solitude of their mother's womb, alone but never lonely.9
I always had this terrible dream when I was little about my mother leaving. Those dreams, dripping wet with my own fading innocence in the form of tears, were so much worse than any monster under the bed.10
I'm deathly afraid of the dark.11
The morning after the dreams, for some odd reason only my five year young mind could name, I would go into the bathroom and make sure the toilet paper sheets were torn off just right (not all jagged) because it was always my mother who left it like that and I thought I could help her fix all of her mistakes. Nobody besides me ever knew about or noticed the toilet paper thing.12
I've never had any nightmares about my dad leaving like that, though. I've been worried sick about him before because I was afraid that because he meant so much to me, something terrible would happen to him, God's sick way of testing my limits.13
I am an Atheist, and I have inherited my mom's red hot temper. I think I may be on the track to burning myself with the switch, but I think it's just my toilet-paper fixing side raising her obsessive-compulsive head.14
Author notes
Story (prose?) written from truth
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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I think this is beautiful, myself. Not only are the adjectives a perfect fit, but they tug at my heart. I think you gathered your many thoughts and put them together neatly but with a twist. I enjoy reading non-fiction, and here is why. Nice job ~Nyssa
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Wow. I'm impressed I enjoy this piece very much.
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It's a wonderfull view into a character- the midnight desperation to rationalise your life sort of style seemed to be quite effectively portrayed. Though it went a little smoothly I guess at time, it maybe just me but my thoughts tend to jump around in everdecreasing circles... especially when trying to rationalise my life and trying to sleep. (I got the trying to sleep from the first paragraph, though it's not entirely clear and I'm only guessing)
"Those dreams, dripping wet with my own fading innocence in the form of tears," that was brilliant... great imagery, phrased beautifully and still clear and consice.
Very full of the awkward stage of life between childhood and adulthood, as the character is just begining to grasp and understand the way she intereacts with those around her and how this reflects on her (assuming it is a girl, it was never mentioned, but from the fact that she is more worried about her mother leaving and something bad happening to her father, and I suppose from the model thing) -
Intriging. Very well done. I loved the descriptive flow of things and how everything came together. Its kind of sad, thats how I like em. Great job here, mate.
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This left the reader intrigued, and wondering what is next, and wanting to get to know more about this character- especially about her relationship with her parents. Very interesting write.
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MacBeth1023
Thank you so much. . . that meant a lot. Whenever somebody's work makes me cry, it changes my life a little bit that day, and to know I at least affected someone when sometimes we all feel powerless. . . it's powerful! Again, I deeply appreciate the comment.
A. M. Adrian -
this made me cry. and i love when writings do that to me, like the author is venting my own emotions, unbeknownst to me untill i have read their work...great write!
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I liked this alot... and I didn't notice the excess adjectives because I'm adjective-happy myself!! lol! I like stories that way... but it's just my opinion! I like description!! ^_^ Great story... I definately hope to hear more from you!!
-Kelsey -
Interesting story you've written here. It wasn't exactly the type of story I would normally read. But i did enjoy it. I'm more of the horror or fantasy person... or things of such. THis was well-written and i did enjoy it therefore awesome write.
OD
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This shows promise. Some very good description... maybe a few too many adjectives, but not bad at all.
If you are serious about writing stories, there is a new group that you may be interested in joining. It is called Novel Aspirations.
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