coolshannie
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2006
- Messages
- 2,680
Well I started writing about someone completely oposite of myself... kind of the like what if I was this person in this situation? So.. please tell me what you think of this so far. Give me some feedback. Was there to much detail? What did you like about it? What didn't you like about it? What else? I really want to improve on my writing skill. 
I looked in the mirror, the reflection looking back at me pained my eyes. That person on the other side wasn't...me. My straggled brown locks fell to my shoulders, the curls had become bounceless, my face seemed a ghostly white. My index finger fell over my right eyelid smearing the black eye shadow. The black dress was ruined, stained with mud, covered in rips. My hands fell over my eyes, my voice pulsed as I let out a slight groan. My elbows fell onto the edge of the sink propping my head that I held in my hands. I uncovered my eyes, groaning at the light flooding into them. I bent my fingers only to see the nail polish that was badly done and coming off. I stood up straight and looked around the small bathroom. Liquor lined the bathroom counter. ' Why was he always right?' I thought. I let out a scream as my right arm went across my body and then struck the bottles with an intense force causing them to fall and shatter too the floor. I didn't yell out in pain, i couldn't feel it as my emotions ran too the roof. Cuts ran up and down my arms, hidden from the eyes of the world by all my efforts, yet they seemed so exposed now. I felt vunerable to the point of death. He had been right, he had been right about everything, maybe he saved my life. I backed up into the wall and sunk to the ground, the liquor soaking up into my dress. My head fell onto my knees. My eyes began to search the floor. My heart suddenly beat faster with rage seeing the razors on the floor. I quickly grasped them in my hands and threw them against the opposite wall. My rage could not be fufilled by my own misery. He had been so right, why couldn't I have seen it then? He had seen right through me without any intention of hurting me yet I still hurt myself. Earlier that night I had every intention of killing myself, yet sitting their soaked in liquor, and stained with blood, the thought of death didn't seem so appealing. Instead the thought of living seemed to sting my mind that night, sitting there in the piercing bright lights of the room on the hard floor of the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror, the reflection looking back at me pained my eyes. That person on the other side wasn't...me. My straggled brown locks fell to my shoulders, the curls had become bounceless, my face seemed a ghostly white. My index finger fell over my right eyelid smearing the black eye shadow. The black dress was ruined, stained with mud, covered in rips. My hands fell over my eyes, my voice pulsed as I let out a slight groan. My elbows fell onto the edge of the sink propping my head that I held in my hands. I uncovered my eyes, groaning at the light flooding into them. I bent my fingers only to see the nail polish that was badly done and coming off. I stood up straight and looked around the small bathroom. Liquor lined the bathroom counter. ' Why was he always right?' I thought. I let out a scream as my right arm went across my body and then struck the bottles with an intense force causing them to fall and shatter too the floor. I didn't yell out in pain, i couldn't feel it as my emotions ran too the roof. Cuts ran up and down my arms, hidden from the eyes of the world by all my efforts, yet they seemed so exposed now. I felt vunerable to the point of death. He had been right, he had been right about everything, maybe he saved my life. I backed up into the wall and sunk to the ground, the liquor soaking up into my dress. My head fell onto my knees. My eyes began to search the floor. My heart suddenly beat faster with rage seeing the razors on the floor. I quickly grasped them in my hands and threw them against the opposite wall. My rage could not be fufilled by my own misery. He had been so right, why couldn't I have seen it then? He had seen right through me without any intention of hurting me yet I still hurt myself. Earlier that night I had every intention of killing myself, yet sitting their soaked in liquor, and stained with blood, the thought of death didn't seem so appealing. Instead the thought of living seemed to sting my mind that night, sitting there in the piercing bright lights of the room on the hard floor of the bathroom.
