Like Glass. - Comments

holy crap like i love you so much.
this is so breath taking, just asdfghjkl, i don't even know. those eyes.. wow. whoa. i don't even know.

this was fantastic, i've neve read your other stuff but that is going to change.

Woah. I haven't read a lot of your stuff before, but I sure will after this.
I love the way it feels like the person's really, really talking to you, and I can just see it so perfect in my mind. I won't be able to get these eyes out of my head for a while now. XD

^There is no definite explanation. It is understood only by the readers interpretation. :cute:

I loved, so so so so so much, but I don't totally understand it, Like, I have an idea,but I don't know for sure... S'Plain? xD

I love the way you write. It's so fluent and I just love it. I wish I could write as good as you, and many other people I've met on Mibba. I totally loved it. :D

I love this story. It's amazing, you must have been a grade A student in English at school.

The descriptions, seriously, Wow. I don't even have words.

Wow.

I'm in shock. Awe. Fucking wonderful. I can't describe it. I've never read anything like it. Beautiful, like his glass eyes. So much description, and it's incredible. And it gives me that feeling too, reading it. Makes me anxious. Almost like I can feel that thing inside of me, too, wanting to crawl out. So much feeling, intense feeling. It's kind of disorienting, all of it. Amazing. The urgency, the power, it was all building up, and, as a reader, you can just feel it, know that it's coming closer. That it's going to explode, but you can't help but be fascinated, intrigued. Watching, waiting. You just can't look away. And then... Shatter. I fucking loved it so much. You have a way with words, that's for sure. And such a wonderful choice of words. You blew me away.

Ohmygod.
I never read anything by you before, and... :cheese:
Srsly, that's all I can say. Just... :cheese:
Just the way you wrote it, using a rough sort of informality in your prose. It gave the story a real kick. Even by using fuckin' instead of fucking - that was a real stroke of genius.
I really don't have time to give this a full-blown review since I have two massive exams tomorrow and the comment above is going to put me to shame, but just know that this was the most beautiful drabble I've read in a looong time, and I'm being completely sincere when I say I am deeply impressed. Seriously, I only comment when I think something's really great.

Wowowowow.

Yeahso, I was trying to comment Pyromaniac and epically failed, so I thought I'd have a go at this one as well in an effort to get back into the comment-y mindset 8)

He’s got these eyes. They’re big, real big, translucent and liquid like ice, ice and fire and diamond glass that sparkles in misleading light, reflect and shine and almost fuckin’ blind me. And they’re green-hazel-jade-emerald-fucking beautiful.

Asheeqwerneebz at your description :cheese:
You've got a little bit of everything in there, and as semi-rambly as it sounds, it really adds to the idea of how marvellous they must look, at least to him. And I like the way you put swearing in this, but not in the n00by way. It's almost cute, because ther way you write it makes it seem like his eyes, of all things, are so beyond his powers of description that all he can think of to say after that wonderfully poetic description is just 'fucking'. Because that one word is so ambiguous, it can mean one or many things. It makes it just seem friendly, in that odd little way.

It makes me sick almost; sick with jealously and possessiveness that I’m sure never existed before. ‘Cause I’m not like that, y’know? It’s just not me, but I can’t fuckin’ help it, ’cause they’re just so, so…gorgeous. Like glass. Yeah, like glass.

He's all cute and murshy
It's like all he's needed is to be captivated by those eyes, and now he's just totally besotted, and he's been feeling things that he's never felt before. Kinda like eyes (:tehe:) meeting across a crowded room, it's all about the eyes again, and he's just totally enthralled, entranced by them. And, much like glass, it's not only the glass itself but that which is revealed behind it that makes it all the more beautiful.

He’s there now, with his big liquid-glass eyes and honeyed skin that seems to just go on forever, and I’ve got that sick feeling again; it’s clawing at my insides, ripping me apart and it just wants to get out, get the fuck out but I won’t let it, ‘cause it wants to mess up his pretty face ‘cause it makes me so fuckin’ sick.

It feels like the tone crashes, right here. Before this bit, you could just say he's a mushy kinda guy in love, but here it's like he is actually sick-to-a-fault with jealousy, so much so that it's almost hate, rage, want to inflict pain and destruction on him because he's so pretty. What exactly is this emotion he's feeling? And how long can it be before it unleashes all it's intent on its intended?

I can’t even think anymore, and I can’t hear, feel… but I can see, I can see alright, I can see those big olive-glass eyes and they’re staring right at me, right into my fuckin’ soul and I’m terrified, petrified, ‘cause I know he can see it and I don’t want him to, don’t want him to know what I want to do to that pretty face of his, in the middle of the night when it’s pitch-black and safe, safe, safe.

I guess that's the problem with having glass eyes. They're not even the tiniest bit clouded. So sight goes both ways. There's nothing blocking the other from staring straight into him, into his very being, and that's what scares him. They say that you can always tell how a person is really feeling through their eyes, so that must make it even more unnerving, because as he is so attracted to his eyes, he can't help but to look straight into them, allowing himself to be stared at as well, and with that is the idea, the questions of whether eyes tell even more than emotion; whether someone with eyes like glass can see the truth, plain as day. And so that's why the darkness is safe. Because even glass is clouded by the pitch of black. In black, glass is blind.

It used to be my favourite time, the middle of the night; trapped in some blissful insomnia, satin soft skin melded to my own like wax, pretty face hidden by a dark curtain, prettier eyes locked safely away from the world. At night, there was nothing but pretty skin, and that was okay, ‘cause it didn’t make me feel so sick, and that gnashing, clawing, biting, breaking was almost bearable.

It's all about the eyes. It's almost insane. It's like he doesn't mind the physical harshness that night can bring, he doesn't care about his lack of sleep, he's just so unyieldingly locked onto that fear of those eyes, that horrid idea of not knowing how much his own revealed into that glass. Pretty skin doesn't see anything. Pretty eyes might see every last tiny detail. And ignorance is bliss, even if that bliss comes with some pain and discomfort. Even that's better than whatever truth he's trying to hide, so it would seem.

But now; now the suns still up and it’s searing, burning, melting wax and revealing secrets that should be hidden in shadows, and I don’t fuckin’ like it, ‘cause that glass is too bright, too alive and it makes me sick, sick, sick to my fuckin’ stomach.

The swearing's taken on a whole new meaning now. Before I thought it was just as a way to show there was no other way to describe him, but now it's like it's just anger. Anger and rage and just another way to describe how nothing's getting better, how it's just growing and growing and getting worse and everything's just still there and remaining as the wax is melting away and there are too few places to hide, way too few for his own mental comfort, and now there's just that one horribly gnawing emotion that just wants to break out; like the wax it melted away, it's just waiting to burn again.

And he’s still watching me, and he won’t stop, won’t stop charring my insides with his fire-ice-glass eyes, and it hurts, it fuckin’ hurts so much and it makes me so sick that I can’t help but want to smash his pretty little face into pretty little shards.

It's just the relentlessness of this that gets me. It's just building and building, and the eyes are still glass, he still feels so sick, and he still wants to tear that face apart, and it feels like it's just a matter of time before he just gets in over his head in his own emotion and he just exacts everything he's ever wanted to inflict onto this one man and his eyes. And still it's 'pretty'. Pretty eyes, pretty skin, and now the oh-so-pretty idea of utmost destruction.

And I can feel now, feel him and he’s under me and those glass eyes are still watching me, and I can feel his hands on my back and they’re so fuckin’ soft but it doesn’t feel right, and I can feel his fingers scraping my skin and they’re cutting, cutting into by back but there’s no blood pouring out ‘cause it’s all gone, eaten up by that thing that wants to get out, and it’s still there, and it’s still trying and fuck, I don’t know if I can stop it anymore.

I'm kinda realising I'm quoting the entireity of your story, but I think I'll get totally lost if I don't do so :shifty
Anyway, on with the ramble of self-confusion; it's back to the violence again, the cutting, the scraping, the clawing, how it's right and yet it's not, and how now, even with the clawing, the violence, there's no aftermath in bleeding, because he's just dead, rotten and seething inside, completely taken over by this one thing, this one thought, to the point where it's all he can think about, all he can focus on, and by then you know there's only one route he can take, because nothing else is changing, and something's got to break.

But I have to, have to, have to.

And then it’s warm, so fuckin’ warm and comforting and fuck, fuck, his hands are clawing now, and he’s fuckin’ arching and I can feel every breath he takes, and his mouth is open and wordless poetry is spilling off his tongue and for a second I’m just so fuckin’ lost, and I love it so, so much and I don’t want it to stop.

But yet there seems to be that one saving grace in this one simple thing, and you've got the contrast of him not being able to stop himself, and him not wanting the other to stop. But as one of those things is rapidly spiralling out of his self-control, and one is not his choice in the slightest, you feel like even this one saving grace is far too little, all too late. Even poetry can't save words of hate.

But it is, it’s stopping, leaving, and I don’t want it to stop ‘cause then I’ll feel sick again and I don’t want that. God, I don’t want that.

And he’s smiling now, and he’s got perfect fuckin’ teeth to match his perfect eyes, perfect face, perfect body, perfect self.

And that one moment of peace is gone, and as there was no aftermath there, so there is no aftereffect here. It just goes straight back to that old rotting, gnawing need, that urge, and it doesn't exactly help from the fact that all he can see is him in his perfection and those ever-glaring glassy eyes just waiting to be clouded over. And it's his perfection that's killing him, staring him in the face, the perfect glassy eyes he once adored and now they're just burning him completely.

And I can’t help it, I can’t fuckin’ help it and- oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck, stop, stop, stop!

Shatter.

And so we reach that which was always inevitable. That glass had to break. And it's such a perfect ending, because even though it's building up for the whole thing, it's still surprising. As shattering glass always is.

If you understand this comment at all, you've succeeded where I have failed :mrgreen:

You ees the awesome, yee? Yee.

This is the best one-shot I've ever read.
Shit, it's probably one of the best things I've read in a long time.

I love how you write this,
it is very different from other things on this site,
and I really like that.
It made me think, and it made me think that you should be really,
really fucking proud of this drabble.
I loved it.

(:

Juno Macguff:

Okay first of all, I LOVE YOUR ENDINGS.
LIKE, OH MY FUCK. THEY MAKE ME :cheese:.
The title is like, meant for this story. If anyone takes it, it won't be right. :file:
I thought a mouse was going to die, or something, through out the whole thing. I love the whole suspense-jealousy shit going on. :cheese:
And I can't say that I don't like that there's an actual plot. I mean, most stories are just like "FUCKFUCKBOISECKS", but yours aren't.

You rule at life.
:cute:

Oh
my fucking shit.
Frist story i ever read by you and wow.
Im just.
already addicted
i fucking love it!
Honest

Okay first of all, I LOVE YOUR ENDINGS.
LIKE, OH MY FUCK. THEY MAKE ME :cheese:.
The title is like, meant for this story. If anyone takes it, it won't be right. :file:
I thought a mouse was going to die, or something, through out the whole thing. I love the whole suspense-jealousy shit going on. :cheese:
And I can't say that I don't like that there's an actual plot. I mean, most stories are just like "FUCKFUCKBOISECKS", but yours aren't.

You rule at life.
:cute:

MINE.
I LOVE IT
-owes you a real comment when i'm not so busy-
:arms: