StubbornGrl
New member
I just wrote this as a part of a writing exercise where I was supposed to use lyrics from a song as inspiration. I wasn't sure what I was doing when I started and I like what I ended up with, though I think the format may be a little strange. It sort of came out as if it was the narrator musing. There isn't much action as it isn't very long, just a sort of consideration.
Let me know what you think. I would like honest opinions, which means if you don't like it that is fine, but at least put why you don't like it and any suggestions on what you think would make it better. If you just post a reply about how horrid it is and give no constructive critisim I will report you for being needlessly rude on a site that is supposed to be about people helping each other.
The Bricks You Caught
Sheila Simons is an average girl. Like most average girls she has her ups and downs. She’s been happy, sad, angry, jealous, bored, and all those other things that everyone is at one point or another. She played games as a kid, dated boys as a teen, studied and played some more in college. Like I said, she’s an average girl.
Underneath being average she is, as most of us are, special and unique and just a little bit odd. But this doesn’t mean she isn’t, average. If a person was completely average, without that underlying level of strange, it would make them a truly rare and one of a kind creature. It turns out that part of being average is being unique.
But I digress, this small story is about Sheila and her own streak of the unique. She is like a brick wall. For every event in her life, from waking up in the morning to meeting someone she can love, another bit is added or taken away. Sometimes this is done carefully, even lovingly. Other times it is as if new bricks are thrown at her with such violence they can leave large holes in the wall, undermining the stability of her being.
I sat down to talk to her one evening. We sat in two comfortable chairs with the lights off. There was something in the way that we could not see each other’s faces that allowed gave the night a somewhat mystical feel. I think that is why she was able to talk to freely and without artifice. When you can’t see the person you are talking to you don’t have to worry about the look on their face and when the lights come on you can pretend you were all alone, just talking to yourself.
Whatever the reasons, she talked to me about things that usually don’t get to see the light. She told me about how when she was seven her best friend had abandoned her in order to get an ‘in’ with the popular crowd. When this friend laughed at her in front of a whole crowd of students it was the first time Sheila could remember being hit with one of those blocks.
Next she told me about her first relationship and how it had added so much to her life and made her see herself in a whole different light. I think she may have cried a little when she talked about how the boy had, as many young boys do, broken it off for no real reason. The relationship ending in this manner didn’t make it any less painful than if he had cheated on her, in fact, I believe it was worse for her. Never knowing was another brick, different from her friend’s betrayal, but even more damaging.
As the night wore on she told me of happy things and sad things. Of things that were given to her and taken away. She talked and a picture formed in my head that made me realize something.
Throughout her life many people and events had thrown bricks at Sheila. They hurt her, and left holes in her, but on the other side of her wall she waited to catch those bricks. She kept them with her because they were as much a part of her as the ones that were put there gently.
I realized that the truly special thing about Sheila was those bricks she had caught. Others would have thrown them away as reminders of painful events. Others might have kept them and become obsessed with the pain the represented, unable to move on. She kept them until she was ready and then used them to keep building her wall. She moved on but knew that they were still a part of her. I wonder, what would the world be like if more people were like Sheila?
Let me know what you think. I would like honest opinions, which means if you don't like it that is fine, but at least put why you don't like it and any suggestions on what you think would make it better. If you just post a reply about how horrid it is and give no constructive critisim I will report you for being needlessly rude on a site that is supposed to be about people helping each other.
The Bricks You Caught
Sheila Simons is an average girl. Like most average girls she has her ups and downs. She’s been happy, sad, angry, jealous, bored, and all those other things that everyone is at one point or another. She played games as a kid, dated boys as a teen, studied and played some more in college. Like I said, she’s an average girl.
Underneath being average she is, as most of us are, special and unique and just a little bit odd. But this doesn’t mean she isn’t, average. If a person was completely average, without that underlying level of strange, it would make them a truly rare and one of a kind creature. It turns out that part of being average is being unique.
But I digress, this small story is about Sheila and her own streak of the unique. She is like a brick wall. For every event in her life, from waking up in the morning to meeting someone she can love, another bit is added or taken away. Sometimes this is done carefully, even lovingly. Other times it is as if new bricks are thrown at her with such violence they can leave large holes in the wall, undermining the stability of her being.
I sat down to talk to her one evening. We sat in two comfortable chairs with the lights off. There was something in the way that we could not see each other’s faces that allowed gave the night a somewhat mystical feel. I think that is why she was able to talk to freely and without artifice. When you can’t see the person you are talking to you don’t have to worry about the look on their face and when the lights come on you can pretend you were all alone, just talking to yourself.
Whatever the reasons, she talked to me about things that usually don’t get to see the light. She told me about how when she was seven her best friend had abandoned her in order to get an ‘in’ with the popular crowd. When this friend laughed at her in front of a whole crowd of students it was the first time Sheila could remember being hit with one of those blocks.
Next she told me about her first relationship and how it had added so much to her life and made her see herself in a whole different light. I think she may have cried a little when she talked about how the boy had, as many young boys do, broken it off for no real reason. The relationship ending in this manner didn’t make it any less painful than if he had cheated on her, in fact, I believe it was worse for her. Never knowing was another brick, different from her friend’s betrayal, but even more damaging.
As the night wore on she told me of happy things and sad things. Of things that were given to her and taken away. She talked and a picture formed in my head that made me realize something.
Throughout her life many people and events had thrown bricks at Sheila. They hurt her, and left holes in her, but on the other side of her wall she waited to catch those bricks. She kept them with her because they were as much a part of her as the ones that were put there gently.
I realized that the truly special thing about Sheila was those bricks she had caught. Others would have thrown them away as reminders of painful events. Others might have kept them and become obsessed with the pain the represented, unable to move on. She kept them until she was ready and then used them to keep building her wall. She moved on but knew that they were still a part of her. I wonder, what would the world be like if more people were like Sheila?