This story… was written as a way of coping with a few things in my own life. I wrote it two years ago when I was on the very literal edge of sanity. I had also stopped writing it because of this edge. Writing of my experiences in life through those of characters is something I will always do, but though this story isn't done, it is for me… in the sense of that chapter of my life.
I hope any reader of this story will understand my desire to not return to that state of mind to continue on with this story. Though I've put it behind me, the rawness of that pain is something I revisit enough without this story.
And I'll be taking this moment to defend myself as a writer – though I really shouldn't. I wrote this story when I was about fifteen. I had obviously never had training in creative writing, which is why the quality of this story – and my others—are so poor. I received a recent review by an anonymous critic – which I'm guessing was hurt by a review I posted on their story—and said that I should take my own advice about my writing. I agree, and that is what I do every day of my life. I'm merely a student to writing and am still learning.
If my guess was right, and you in fact were hurt by a review I wrote to you, please, man up and send me a private message so we can talk about this. I feel bad that you took criticism I gave you as a flame, and I'd like to speak to you. I'm sure we have a lot of learn from each other.
Thank you, JackieWackie