Hi everybody, I just wrote a short story on my personal blog and I would love to get some feedback on it. I mainly post abstract material. It's hard for me to define the way I like to write, I guess it lies inbetween poetry and prose, but again, I just don't know if there's a name for this type of writing. If there is, I'll be happy to hear from you people out thereBefore you read the story, please, do not reuse, copy and paste or make any improper use of my writing. This is an original work that has officially been posted on my personal blog and it is intellectual property, so please, again, do not reuse this in any circumstance. I'm posting it here because I am not allowed to link to my own blog and I am looking for tips and tricks, but it does not allow for you to steal other people's work. Thank you for your cooperation.
I take writing very seriously. It has helped me come out of terrible situations in life and it still does help me do so. It brings me relief and joy.
I'm looking for honest opinions on the work that I've done, just as if one would review a book here on the site. You can say you'd s*it on my writing and that you abhorr it, I won't take it personally. I hope you don't and instead provide constructive criticism, but if you so wish, then there you go, I said it.
I would love to hear from as many of you as possible and I would love to share insights on writing in general. I'm a new user, I've already reviewed a book here and I'm also writing my own book. I want to be an active member of this community, so bring it on!
So, what do you think about it?Think, let it drip.
Think, look at what you hit.
Bolster up and settle down.
Don’t lose what you’ve been carrying around.
Or lose it, f*ck it.
Don’t think about it, forget it.
Start a new sensation, feel the evolution.
Brag about your wisdom.
Drop down to your knees and beg for a pardon.
No one will accustom to your senseless hesitation.
Back and forth, up and down.
Think of it and you’ll likely drown.
What are you to do, you little poor thing?
What’s life all about, if not to be thinking.
Where is your medal? Where is the hero?
Where is the path of the great leader?
Straight ahead. Straight in front of you. Straight astray.
Lost in reason. Reason for a fight. Fighter of the night.
An obscure privilege is fomenting the energy with which you spit your hasty venom.
A word to reach the sky in a world whose sea is blind.
Love is an affair that most cannot bear, yet you give it purpose by faking your emotion.
What a lovely afternoon. What a lovely pair of blooms.
It seems as if you were enamoured with your own set of rules.
Let’s do this, let’s do that. What about all the rest?
Is there sense to any action? Is there power in their traction?
Think of it, think of you, until you see what’s sliding through.
You’ll see that most of what you think is just a set of false beliefs.
You’ll learn that all of what you breach is just a random set of variables:
you cross the goal that you had set and then abruptly take it back.
Think of what you do! What else can you prove?
What is there to learn out of all that is known?
f*ck the ones who say you’re no one, you let it all push you forward.
And yet somehow you slam back down, onto your knees and on the ground.
What an atrocious sense of self, what an astonishing work of sentiment.
What a belligerent set of arguments to be had within yourself.
If only the artist could never regret. If only the teacher could never resent!
Life of a story whose author is blind, just as the sea whose shores are alive.
Blind are the waves that crash on top of them but forceful is the energy with which they're repelled.
Think of it all and it’ll still burn.
It’ll bring you to madness and force you to move.
It’ll start a new war with no one to lose.
Your style is rather unique and interesting.
