I would really appreciate some critiquing of my work so far. I have only got a little bit and this is my first attempt at writing a book so go easy on me. this is just a little intro and part of an opening scene.
It has been said to me that the most entertaining stories are those of tragedy. However, I suppose you don’t want to be bored with a sad story. Well too bad. This is what you’ll have to settle for. Now that I have your attention, I’d like to ask you a question: can you imagine what it’s like to be conscious of the fact that you are not right? Do you know how it feels to be intelligent, yet have the social part of your brain be cross wired and messed up? If you do, I suggest you keep reading. If you don’t know, this is still a story you want to tune in to.
I have a pretty strange story to tell the truth. As someone with a neurological disorder known as Tourette Syndrome, I know how it feels to experience the things that I mentioned above. I in fact, am still wrestling with this as you read this, and as I write this. I guess this is why I am writing this in the first place. Our minds are like a prison. Your mental state causes you to have problems with many aspects of life, and there is no place to escape to. You cannot recede into your own insanity because you’d only drive yourself further insane. You are then forced to confront all problems that arise. This leads to further conflict. It really is a vicious cycle. Speaking of vicious cycles: trying to find the good in people. You try to think optimistically but people ultimately let you down. Everyone has on their superficial smiles, but, who are they fooling? Certainly not me. They seem to fool too many people. Maybe it’s because they’re using the same ruse. On top of all of this, I’ve been dumped into an unfamiliar setting in the form of boarding school. When all the pillars of your life have suddenly been yanked from underneath you, the only option you have is to fall. Unless of course you can fly which is not something most humans are capable of. It’s only a matter of time before your body hit’s the cold and unforgiving ground. Then what? Pick yourself up and ignore the pain? The pain representing the incessant voice inside your head telling you to stay down.
In any case, one must drag themselves through the mud and back up to the point from which they fell, only to climb higher if your limits shall allow it. However sane you might think you are, you cannot quite claim that without evidence. Is it even possible to be perfectly sane? If you asked me, the word sane should be eliminated from the dictionary. I say this because if everyone is insane then that would become the new sane. Now look what I’m doing, I’m conversing with my insanity. It’s amazing what five minutes of free time will get you thinking about.
“Hey Cole!” said my roommate Jake.
“Is anybody home?” again with the interjections.
“Hi. What’s up?” I responded.
“Nothing is up. My backpack is pulling me down though. I’ve got so much homework and so many textbooks to carry that I don’t think I will finish it in one night.”
“At some point, sleep becomes more valuable than homework. I don't care about the homework. I make up for it on tests.”
This leaves me more time for my own split personalities to converse and for me to ponder.
“I wish I could do that. I swear to God Cole, you are a tough nut to crack.”
He got that right, I am a nut.
“I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll wake you up if you fall asleep at the desk again.”
“Thanks Cole. ‘Night.”
I’m impressed with myself. I can put on a decent guise of an OK state. Even if he’s one of my few friends. Instead of learning the social cues, I’ve learned to use a ruse of sanity. It’s amazing what the human mind is capable of under certain circumstances. It’s also amazing how many deficiencies it has. When the neurons in your brain just can’t receive the signal there’s nothing you can do except cover it up. Be as superficial as possible and hope nobody notices. Yet, in a lot of ways, that’s much more difficult than being openly messed up. More stress equals more insanity. It is true that the greatest sorrows are the ones we inflict upon ourselves. That may be true for some, but I’m just cursed. What if I were on the inside? Realistically that would be a terrible thing. Then I would not only be worried about pleasing myself, but pleasing everyone else, at every moment. This of course is an impossible task. I suppose that would, again, make me go crazy. To be on the inside I’d have to have much better coping skills.