[Verhaal] My fractured life. (Engels)

Ik weet niet hoe dit op Girlscene ontvangen gaat worden (ook omdat het Engels is), maar wilde het toch laten lezen en misschien wat tips of commentaar ontvangen. Ik schrijf al een tijd, vind het leuk, maar heb nooit echt een (langer) verhaal afgemaakt. Ik weet ook niet in hoeverre ik dit af krijg, aangezien ik erg kritisch ben over wat ik schrijf. Maar als er animo voor is, ga ik graag door.

My fractured life.
Trying to figure out what I’m doing exactly. Bluntly put: whenever I’m plain frank and honest, it feels so pretentious. No, that’s not right. It feels like the people I’m expressing these honest feelings and words to, seem to feel that I’m being pretentious. I don’t know why exactly, maybe because there just aren’t a lot of really honest people left out there. It’s weird that it makes those honest people so insecure when telling the plain truth. It always sounded so simple: just be honest.

My mother always told me that honesty was the best way to go. I figured that all moms tell their kids that same thing. If that’s so, people sure forget a lot. Maybe it’s because mothers also told their children to be polite, and not hurt other people’s feelings. When you have to be honest all the time, these things can get pretty conflicting… I know. But couldn’t people find a better way to be polite and not be obviously lying? Or can’t we just rewrite the rules of “what’s polite and what’s not” and all agree that you can just say nothing if the truth hurts? That would make things so much easier, and it would make me much less of a cold bitch sometimes.

Whatever. I don’t care being a cold bitch, really. I just hate the fact that you lied to me, you lied to me in my face. But most of all, I hate the fact that I didn’t see it coming.
“It wasn’t really a lie…” you say.
“Not telling me the truth is considered lying, and you damn well know it.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Oh really, well I pity you. I pity you for not having a mom like mine, to tell you how the matters stand. You clearly got this wrong. This is me being polite, so let’s just not say this out loud and keep it this way. Still keeping it together. Barely.

talent voor fotografie en schrijven ^^ nog zo van die verborgen talenten ja?

Ik ben benieuwd! Ik vind Engels veel fijner weglezen dan Nederlands dus verder!

Haha ik ook, vind het ook veel fijner schrijven in de meeste gevallen!

#2 -Ik nummer het even, dan weet iedereen waar ze gebleven zijn, mocht dit veel langer worden.

“You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“That doesn’t–”
“I love you.”
Shit, you got me on that one. Pulling a big first-timer on me when you’re in trouble. Great. He knows I’m a sucker for this. Good thing he doesn’t know that I’m aware of his knowledge. Not going to fall for it, mister.
Now that I’ve figured out that passionately throwing myself at him, telling him I love him too is not an option, I still don’t know what to say to those three (honest?) words. So I’m pretty much back to awkwardly staring at his pretty face, still stunned about what he just said to me. Still angry, though.
“I love you too, but…”
Nope, didn’t stick with the plan. I never stick with the plan. Why am I doing this?
“But what, Fay? Isn’t that enough for you?”
If it were the complete truth and nothing but the truth, yes. But how do I know that?
“Of course, but I just want you to be honest with me, and just tell me everything, okay?”

And there we are. I’m not being completely honest with him. Not telling him exactly what I was thinking. The world and his lies got the best of me. It makes me doubt again, where that fine line between honesty and dishonesty lies. At this point, I just want this to work.

Mooi, verder graag !

Dank je. :slightly_smiling_face:

Iemand tips of verbeterpunten?

#3

Does that mean I’m being less of a cold bitch when it comes to Alex?

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, I know you were just talking and you’re trying to be friends, it just got to me a little more then I had expected. And I apologize for making such a scene.”

I wasn’t really sorry for making a scene, otherwise I wouldn’t make a scene in the first place. What I should have said, if telling the truth, was: “I’m sorry for being so twisted, I don’t even understand my own thoughts right now. I can’t believe you’re holding up with this. Why are you even staying with me?”

But what got to me the most, is my own jealousy. I haven’t been jealous for as long as I can remember, so why now? The other twisted stuff’s familiar, but this I can’t handle.

She’s his ex, they were just talking things out. He told me how things are working out between them as friends, and I honestly thought that was great. I just can’t put these feelings to words, and if anything drives me crazy in life, it’s not finding the words to translate something from my heart to my brain.

Sitting down on his bed, I refused to look straight at him, but I knew the exact expression he had on his face that very moment. The one with a smile that showed me he knew very well that I was struggling with my thoughts again. It scares me sometimes, that he knows me so well. I tend to forget about it, until he looks at me this way. This look, it warms my heart, because I know he wouldn’t take advantage of the fact that he knows every little bit about me. My life, what I’ve been through, what’s going on and my head and in my heart. Everything. That’s why I can’t ever really be mad at him, and the cold bitch I usually am melts like an ice cube that’s only an inch away from the sun.

But don’t think it’s always like this. We have our good times. You just caught us at a bad time. Actually, most of our times are good, which is quite exceptional since I’m part of it. Mostly that factor makes everything go bad way more often. I’m actually surprised how much he completes me and how much balance he brings to my life. I used to make any boy run within three weeks of being with me. Which is kind of a skill, you must admit.

Je hebt een goede woordenschat en je schrijfstijl is netjes. Je begin is goed. Ik zou zeggen: ga door!