The Solarised Night
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- Posted: Thu, 09 Feb 2012 23:23:57 +0000
jaded_peacock
The Solarised Night
NO WING; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED twisted
So I started something but I'm not sure how to finish it. It is really drafty and needs a lot of work so why doesn't someone take a stab at it and make some suggestions?
Virtual Obsession
With excess freedom comes an endless void. Sometimes the absence is only temporary; other times it can manifest into a fixed state. We are slaves of habit, and thus when the purpose of our ritualistic ways is lost, we must adapt another.
For me, it was the internet. It served to fill the developing cracks in my lifestyle by allowing me to explore and connect with the world far beyond my own. I embraced this method of entertainment and communication willingly. It no longer mattered that I was in a small, desolate town; I always had someone to talk to online.
In the schoolyard, I was the prey of countless students. Threatening glares pierced my flesh where ever I walked; there was nowhere to escape from the torment. The same cluster of boys would stalk me to all my classes, and breathe derogatory threats in my ear. The longer I pretended to be oblivious, the more fiercely they pushed. When online, I always had an escape. If someone became vicious or cruel, I could simply hit those handy little buttons: block and delete. I never had to carry a knife in my purse in this fantasy world. No one could hurt me here.
Before long, the glaring white screen became of paramount importance. I never wanted to leave my pixelated friends; they were the only ones who cared about me. My whole life became absorbed into the omnipresent monitor, and I no longer cared about my physical form. All that mattered was that my avatar looked perfect.
I’d click away at the keys long into to the night, until I could no longer decipher meaning from the blurred walls of text. Often, in bed, I stared at the ceiling and watched the aftermath like a strobing rave. The screen burnt patterns into my retinas; they flickered behind my eyelids for hours before I could sleep. It seemed normal to me.
The more days that passed, the more became numb and unconscious to the real world. My eyes remained open, but they did not see; I didn’t register the full extent of my surroundings. My hand was programmed to move the mouse back and forth. The reflex to collect falling gold on a virtual game is hardwired into my mind, yet my lips had forgotten how to smile. When did illusion become stronger than reality?
I became so absorbed into this new life, that I lost touch with what it meant to live. I forgot the importance of eating, and that of sleep. Sometimes I forgot to shower, or to brush my teeth.
“What’s the point?” I’d ask myself, “I am isolated and alone; no one is going to see that I haven’t shaved my legs in weeks.”
One day while typing to a friend, I jolted back to consciousness. My head throbbed like a hang over after a bad binge. The sight of the computer made me feel ill; I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stood up, and walked away; my legs felt like rubber, as they tried to reacquaint themselves with motion.
As I walked over to the full length mirror, it reflected something unrecognisable. My waistline crept up a size, my clothes were littered across the floor, and the dishes were piled high. I was dumb-struck like a stunned mullet plucked from the sea. I struggled to process the information.
“What the hell has happened to me?”
I turned to the dishes. Flecks of butter chicken were caked along the surface of the bottom bowl; I didn’t remember eating that.
“Am I so removed from reality that I don’t even remember what I ate last night?” I asked with a frown. I quickly scrambled for my phone. My question was answered by a glance at the date and time.
Where did two months go?
So I started something but I'm not sure how to finish it. It is really drafty and needs a lot of work so why doesn't someone take a stab at it and make some suggestions?
Virtual Obsession
With excess freedom comes an endless void. Sometimes the absence is only temporary; other times it can manifest into a fixed state. We are slaves of habit, and thus when the purpose of our ritualistic ways is lost, we must adapt another.
For me, it was the internet. It served to fill the developing cracks in my lifestyle by allowing me to explore and connect with the world far beyond my own. I embraced this method of entertainment and communication willingly. It no longer mattered that I was in a small, desolate town; I always had someone to talk to online.
In the schoolyard, I was the prey of countless students. Threatening glares pierced my flesh where ever I walked; there was nowhere to escape from the torment. The same cluster of boys would stalk me to all my classes, and breathe derogatory threats in my ear. The longer I pretended to be oblivious, the more fiercely they pushed. When online, I always had an escape. If someone became vicious or cruel, I could simply hit those handy little buttons: block and delete. I never had to carry a knife in my purse in this fantasy world. No one could hurt me here.
Before long, the glaring white screen became of paramount importance. I never wanted to leave my pixelated friends; they were the only ones who cared about me. My whole life became absorbed into the omnipresent monitor, and I no longer cared about my physical form. All that mattered was that my avatar looked perfect.
I’d click away at the keys long into to the night, until I could no longer decipher meaning from the blurred walls of text. Often, in bed, I stared at the ceiling and watched the aftermath like a strobing rave. The screen burnt patterns into my retinas; they flickered behind my eyelids for hours before I could sleep. It seemed normal to me.
The more days that passed, the more became numb and unconscious to the real world. My eyes remained open, but they did not see; I didn’t register the full extent of my surroundings. My hand was programmed to move the mouse back and forth. The reflex to collect falling gold on a virtual game is hardwired into my mind, yet my lips had forgotten how to smile. When did illusion become stronger than reality?
I became so absorbed into this new life, that I lost touch with what it meant to live. I forgot the importance of eating, and that of sleep. Sometimes I forgot to shower, or to brush my teeth.
“What’s the point?” I’d ask myself, “I am isolated and alone; no one is going to see that I haven’t shaved my legs in weeks.”
One day while typing to a friend, I jolted back to consciousness. My head throbbed like a hang over after a bad binge. The sight of the computer made me feel ill; I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stood up, and walked away; my legs felt like rubber, as they tried to reacquaint themselves with motion.
As I walked over to the full length mirror, it reflected something unrecognisable. My waistline crept up a size, my clothes were littered across the floor, and the dishes were piled high. I was dumb-struck like a stunned mullet plucked from the sea. I struggled to process the information.
“What the hell has happened to me?”
I turned to the dishes. Flecks of butter chicken were caked along the surface of the bottom bowl; I didn’t remember eating that.
“Am I so removed from reality that I don’t even remember what I ate last night?” I asked with a frown. I quickly scrambled for my phone. My question was answered by a glance at the date and time.
Where did two months go?
I'm not gonna go all-out critiquing here, because I'm sleep and it's a WIP, but I like the subject matter. Internet obsession is a very real thing that takes over a lot of people's lives, but no one ever wants to talk about it.
My big thing right now is this idea of schoolyard bullies. My old fiction professor used to tell me, "If there's a gun over the mantel in Scene 1, it has to go off by the end of the show." These bullies are your gun. Why are they harassing this character? You use the word "derogatory", which insinuates some level of discrimination. Is this character an ethnic minority? Overweight? Gay? These bullies need to come back into this story and go off, so to speak. They need to resolve themselves before your story can resolve itself.
Alright, love. That's a good idea. I'll work them back in at the end. Maybe the persona confronts them instead of trying to escape into the online world. I hadn't really thought about why the bullies were targeting this person. I've seen bullying occur with very little reason for doing so. A reason might strengthen that point a bit. I could add something in such as "On the internet, they can't see that I am -insert reason for discrimination here-"
