Critique thread, post your work, give feedback, i'll start

I don't like the phrasing of "learnt what it means" but i enjoy the rest.

Plus, it made me feel good — a sensation that has escaped my sober self for… as long as I can remember. I don’t recall being consistently happy, persistently self-assured, since probably elementary school; everything since has been a haze of loneliness and insecurity. I couldn’t talk to guys and I especially couldn’t talk to girls; when one of my lifelong friends, who went on to be popular in high school, would invite me to parties or hang-outs out of pity I would sit there at the perimeters of conversations saying nothing, laughing when other people laughed, sweating and blushing in shame, consumed by self-loathing. When something relevant to contribute to the conversation would pop into my head I would turn it over in my mind, thinking of the best possible way to present it, analyzing how each person within the group would react, imagining every possible scenario that could unfold following my comments. Would people laugh? Would they ignore me? Would the conversation die? By the time I would get done thinking, the topic had inevitably changed and another part of me would die internally.

heat on the mountain, a thumbprint of sun lay
on the quad as robins bob through haircut branches.
a student alone with grass;
his thoughts are moths his skull of wool.
nature’s cut to frames, still her light restores my center.
flakes of coconut to dust my eyelids—
friends to share art with, or something intimate
to bond below a yew and drink of.
smoke rises by the business school and
i’m nostalgic.
wind of near seasons knock the day.

I was awake before the alarm went off in the cozy little pod, what in our house was called ‘the hatch’. The hatch disengaged it’s doors and I sat up and looked out the window. The sun was a cataract in the sky, barely there but you felt it’s presences with its blistering heat upon the glass. I opened my mouth, administered my pills and took a sip of water and stood up. I could see the silver sheen of uniformly shaped buildings and apartments. It was to be yet another day in the wonderful city of Nascent.

I walked through the room and stretched my arms, and walked to the door. I then opened the door to the bathroom and in an instant the glass shutter slide to one side with a swoosh. The walls were a pretty floral white color. The slatted cabinet was made of silicone slide open showing off an array of prescribed medicines and skin creams. I washed my mouth, my face, and squeezing the cream directly into my hands, then moisturized my precious skin. I looked into the mirror. At first I couldn’t recognized the face there but as I looked closer, squinting my eyes with all the wrinkles, I could see it was me.

I made my way from the bathroom to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the lounge. The cooking-bot made breakfast for me while I looked over my accounts. The synthetic lawn on the balcony was looking green and lush and I smiled at it while taking sips of my coffee. Does anything matter more than a luxurious lawn? I think not, it is the most essential thing to an orderly life. I stepped onto the balcony. The morning sun felt warm against my skin and I welcomed the post-bot's mid-morning delivery of info-chips.

Attached: balcony.jpg (1740x960, 139K)

I don't know where else to go, so I'll ask here. I'm writing a Satirist novel that veneers into deconstruction. I got the setting and themes done. However, The Main character, is for a lack of a better term, a complete shithead. Now, this isn't a problem for me, I intended for that. What is a problem, however, is if the readers will put up with his behavior. I'm rather reluctant to change this since it fits with the themes of my novel. How do I rectify this?

Wow, thank you so much! I haven't written fiction in a long time, but have always loved writing essays and journaling, and dabbled in poetry throughout hs. I don't really have any specific influences that come to mind. I'd say The Elements of Style and analyzing other authors' work in my AP English classes in hs sort of attuned to me to what entails good writing, though.

I'll have to give the Elements a read then. Keep it up user! I haven't read anything about good writing. I just read a lot of fiction and have at it, but I think I need to read more informative texts on the craft.

I think a satire is the perfect context in which to write a shithead mc. However, without more concrete description of what makes him supposedly unlikable I can't say much. If you put in effort to make him complex and interesting though, it shouldn't be too much of an issue.

Light spills onto skin,
soft to touch, but deeper still
an inner glow tends.

Reflections abound
in tandem, a rippled crowd
of fractals slipping

past the frame-limit.

awful