If he doesn't know why she attempted suicide, she's probably not doing it for a rational reason, so is she depressed or manic? I don't want to be insensitive to people whose loved ones have committed suicide but in this case I think the "medias res" opening doesn't serve the longer story well. I see Saoirse throwing away her sweet young life and I see no reason why she'd ever be missed. Maybe there is a reason. Maybe she's a fine human being who's just been diagnosed with an incurable disease. But I've not been told that. I think of fine human beings who would not have thrown away their lives, who lost their lives prematurely and unfairly, and I feel old and bitter and bereaved. No room for empathy.
On the encouraging side, you have shown that you and Peter do care about Saoirse.
Nice expository essay. The ancient Greeks' Olympics weren't only physical contests; they valued speaking and singing as well as running. Our Olympics have emphasized physical strength and agility.
Well, I smiled. And I think some newspaper or magazine ought to print this story, in case other first-time bridesmaids who've spent their teenaged years in T-shirts need to know that tight-fitting tops can have hidden side zippers.
The story might be polished a little more for things like "thru" and the comma splice in the first sentence of the next-to-last paragraph, but it's well told as it is.
Reminds me of a dog I used to know, who lived about that long: watching her grow up and grow old, one day being warned to say goodbye to her; sitting on the porch and crying, remembering all the years I'd known her, and the little old dog licking and wagging and trying to cheer me up. This is a very good example of "greeting card verse" in its proper place. Instead of "See what a clever poet I am!" it communicates "I loved and miss the same dog you love and miss." You wouldn't send it to a "literary" magazine but it's the perfect sort of poem to send to others who knew this dog.
Extraverts don't have what it takes to be really good friends. They can be useful connections, even fun to hang out with...but, like animals, no matter how loved they don't have the right sort of brains for a great friendship.
What they see in us? Listeners, followers. That's all they really wanted and their "close friendships" tend to last about as long as it takes for them to have told all their small repertoire of stories.
It's hard to rate this one properly. I think introverts need to be using the Internet to build awareness and solidarity. I incline to give all things that really represent our various temperaments and viewpoints high marks as consciousness-raising tools. Lasting literary merit, someone else will eventually judge...
Well, that's a "different" kind of school story! Students hit teachers, classmates hit students... Despite the English names I can tell this is not an English/British or American story. Indian? To some extent the word order adds to the atmosphere, but in some places it looks like mere mistakes: "fighted' for "fought," "ask to your all of friends" for "ask all of your friends."
With editing I think this might be an interesting young adult story, but I'm not sure how many YA editors would want to handle this much violence. Aliens killing sympathetic human characters is all very well, but I think sympathetic characters hitting teachers is taboo.
Cute story, though of course we enlightened Easterners know that Punxsutawney Phil is a groundhog. Marmots are found in France, and who knows what youall have out West? Possibly side hill gougers? Tehee!
Lol and jk. You can call your strange western critters what you want, in the same tradition early Easterners used to name things like the American Robin.
Tips for improvement? It does seem as if there's more to this story, waiting to be told.
The speaker sounds upset and confused. I hope the situation has been resolved. The plight itself is not what people listen to, normally, and that someone hates me doesn't normally seem fair to me, but it does sound like the disconnected muttering of someone who feels hated and helpless.
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