I can't think of anything to say except this excerpt: read it.
From today's Nano.
I snapped back to the present when I started to think about Koren again. He was broken… too broken to fix? I hoped not. But even if he was, even if he did live through this but wasn’t ever the same after, I liked to think that I would have stuck with him. I would have still been his and he still would have been mine.
But I could always hope that he wouldn’t die, or be any different. And we would get out of here, all the same.
But people changed. And I think this whole thing was one of those things that you’d call a life changing event, something that made you have a different perspective on life. A thing or event or time that would change your world view, as they’d say in the ever boring Social Studies class at school. I didn’t think that all of us, if we got out that was, would be the same again. We could try to go back to our normal lives, and for the most part I think we would have succeeded, but we wouldn’t be able to look at things the same way. I wouldn’t ever look at horror movies and horror books the same way again. Because I would know the real horrors of being trapped. The real horror of having to fear for your life every second. The real pain that came with watching your best friends, your boyfriend, everything you live for die right before your eyes.
No book or movie could ever capture something that powerful.
And I wouldn’t be able to go in a museum ever again, that was for sure. Sure I had gotten into this whole mess just because I had been reckless and broken a few rules, but I’d be constantly on edge in any museum I went to after this incident.
Was there a word for the fear of museums? Or would I be a freak, the first case to fear something totally stupid.
But my reasoning wouldn’t be stupid. It wouldn’t matter what museum it was, I would be scared that this would happen all over again. And the human brain can only take a certain amount of trauma before caving in on itself and ending this cruel thing we call life.
And I knew I would never love anyone in the same way I had loved Leelee. She would leave a black hole in my heart that I know will never be refilled. And if Koren were to leave me too, I would not be able to find someone else like him. Without a doubt, I couldn’t replace any of the people that I was here with today. When they did pass, as I feared they all would, I wouldn’t replace them; I knew I wouldn’t even try. We would probably be all regarded as freaks, put in some course of therapy, and we’d be constantly regareded as unstable. No, no one else would look at us in the same way either.
But humans, being as they are, all try to put on a face of normality. So we, the surviving members of our group, would try and look as normal as possible, pretending this didn’t scar us mentally or physically. And people would act like they didn’t think we had changed at all, but we would all know the truth, of course. Everyone would know of the fact that we were freaks who had had their lives changed because they were stupid and took some stupid dare at a museum. And everyone would know we were mentally unstable. And that we had it in us to kill. And people would FEAR us, and talk about us in the halls. People would know. We couldn’t change that.
So why were we still keeping ourselves alive?
This is possibly one of the worst things I've written when it comes to grammar and conventions wise, but I hope it makes you as emotional as it made me to write it.
I snapped back to the present when I started to think about Koren again. He was broken… too broken to fix? I hoped not. But even if he was, even if he did live through this but wasn’t ever the same after, I liked to think that I would have stuck with him. I would have still been his and he still would have been mine.
But I could always hope that he wouldn’t die, or be any different. And we would get out of here, all the same.
But people changed. And I think this whole thing was one of those things that you’d call a life changing event, something that made you have a different perspective on life. A thing or event or time that would change your world view, as they’d say in the ever boring Social Studies class at school. I didn’t think that all of us, if we got out that was, would be the same again. We could try to go back to our normal lives, and for the most part I think we would have succeeded, but we wouldn’t be able to look at things the same way. I wouldn’t ever look at horror movies and horror books the same way again. Because I would know the real horrors of being trapped. The real horror of having to fear for your life every second. The real pain that came with watching your best friends, your boyfriend, everything you live for die right before your eyes.
No book or movie could ever capture something that powerful.
And I wouldn’t be able to go in a museum ever again, that was for sure. Sure I had gotten into this whole mess just because I had been reckless and broken a few rules, but I’d be constantly on edge in any museum I went to after this incident.
Was there a word for the fear of museums? Or would I be a freak, the first case to fear something totally stupid.
But my reasoning wouldn’t be stupid. It wouldn’t matter what museum it was, I would be scared that this would happen all over again. And the human brain can only take a certain amount of trauma before caving in on itself and ending this cruel thing we call life.
And I knew I would never love anyone in the same way I had loved Leelee. She would leave a black hole in my heart that I know will never be refilled. And if Koren were to leave me too, I would not be able to find someone else like him. Without a doubt, I couldn’t replace any of the people that I was here with today. When they did pass, as I feared they all would, I wouldn’t replace them; I knew I wouldn’t even try. We would probably be all regarded as freaks, put in some course of therapy, and we’d be constantly regareded as unstable. No, no one else would look at us in the same way either.
But humans, being as they are, all try to put on a face of normality. So we, the surviving members of our group, would try and look as normal as possible, pretending this didn’t scar us mentally or physically. And people would act like they didn’t think we had changed at all, but we would all know the truth, of course. Everyone would know of the fact that we were freaks who had had their lives changed because they were stupid and took some stupid dare at a museum. And everyone would know we were mentally unstable. And that we had it in us to kill. And people would FEAR us, and talk about us in the halls. People would know. We couldn’t change that.
So why were we still keeping ourselves alive?
This is possibly one of the worst things I've written when it comes to grammar and conventions wise, but I hope it makes you as emotional as it made me to write it.