Headlights - Comments

Reread this, loved it again, perhaps even more. I love your way with words and how raw your style sometimes is. I still enjoy your stories immensely, even though I rarely show my face around here anymore.

Gosh, I know I should have posted a comment sooner but really, I just have to post now because I just got around to reading this story.

I have probably never read anything more heart-breaking in my life. I was listening to a very sad song as I read this, but I have to tell you... I'm still crying. I can't tell you how much your words made my heart break; it was such a moving story. Thank you for writing it.

You are absolutely one of the best writer's on earth. I'm telling you should write a book. Seriously, just think of all the fans that you'll have.

Omg........ Thank you so much for this story!! I can't believe what happened to Frank.. It's just so freakin' great. I love it. Thank you!!!

Oh fucking God.

Remember that crazy girl that sent you a mail about how she fucking adored Crash and KSC when she read them on theimmortalityproject? Well, yeah, that's me. And I'm so fucking glad you told me your mibba username, because all of your stories are fucking incredible.

This story held so many emotions, and I felt them so strongly when you described them so vividly. I would do a totally long review about this, but I'd never end. I mean, it started out giving a sense of sorrow and a shitload of feelings that could easily break anyone's heart, but somehow you maneuvered it all towards the perfect ending; full of hope and faith.

Wow.

I was left speechless. I honestly thought Frank was gonna die, leave the world and sleep into unending oblivion until he was happy. But there's always a way to fix things, and he'd merely escaped death so many times that it'd be unfair that he didn't make it. All the times you said people can't fly... and the way Frankie proved us all wrong.

I love all of your metaphors and the raw emotions you put into your writing; it's evident how much of yourself you give to your stories.

And the end...

The way you made it all fit. Everything, as insignificant as it might've seemed, had a defined purpose. And the title is so important and it's just perfect... you couldn't have chosen something better.

I want to say so much more but you've left me... in awe. Once again I'll have to tell you that publishing your stories would be a fucking amazing idea, and I'd go buy the book to wherever they sold it. You definitely deserve it; the way you pour everything out into the plot... it's indescribable.

Congratulations on being my favorite author! And just... an awesome writer in general.

xx

Wow. That was probably one of the most heart-wrenching stories I've ever read.
It made me want to puke, it made me tear up, and it even made my heartbeat speed up.
I stayed up all night to read this. I couldn't wait till I got to the end.
There was nothing short of amazing about this entire story.
The ending was profound. I can't really explain it.

i have goosebumps.
i'm sitting here, telling myself to breathe.
my throat is tight, and i feel the tears in the back of my eyes.

wow.
i have never in my life read anything like this.
your writing is all its own.

the emotion you put into it,
it makes me over flow with emotion when i read it.

i just spent three hours reading this story,
non stop.

holy shit.
honestly,
i'm writing this comment,
but i don't think i can type out
how much this story fucking
amazed me.
holy.. wow.

i just,, wow.

that's all i can say.

i'm going to forever look up to you and your writing.

:arms:

I love it. There is, however, a lot of crying and stuttering. On the plus side, you've probably already forgotten more about the human body than I'll ever even KNOW. I don't know quite how you do it, but your writing is like a trainwreck; you don't want to watch (because you don't want to believe that you could be so depraved as to enjoy it), but you can't stop looking (because it's just so fucking magnetic). Really really really good.

If I had 1/100th of the talent you have, I could die happy.

OKAY SOOOO.

First of all, I'm kind of regretting waiting so long to read this last update, and I'm kind of not. Firstly! This story and the last installment IN PARTICULAR are so amazing that I'm not quite sure how I've managed without having them to come home to up until this point. But then on the other hand, I've been wanting to wait until I had time to sit down and read the whole thing in one go AND leave you a comment right after, and I'm so, so happy that I have.

Y'KNOW WHY? Because you've screwed me up. My chest physically hurts, my mouth was hanging open the whole chapter and I'm sure I looked like a complete goon, and I feel like I've been shoved on a highly cliché emotional rollercoaster.

It's kind of like a regular rollercoaster, y'know, with the nausea and the fear and all ONLY IT MAKES YOU WANT TO CRY.

Allow me to quote to make up for the incoherent babble and crazytalk.

" And after that we both knew. There was no fixing Frankie.

Day after day after day after fucking day I had my bloody hands buried deep inside his chest, fighting to piece the sharp, sticky edges of his shattered heart back together with my fingers. Trying to touch every inch of his slick, liquefied crimson insides – the delicate mesh of veiny lungs, expanding against my fingertips, soft muscle flexing and stretching taut, wet red blood and hard bone and the gluey web of costal cartilage – because he said the touching was the only thing that helped numb the pain anymore.

...

And then, one windy night in the middle of winter, it stopped. "

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. I think that was the part that let me know I was doomed to be drowning in tissues for the next little while. Usually with things like this, in literature, I can always find someone to blame. With this, I'm completely stumped; they really are both as hopeless as each other, both depend on each other so much, and that makes me even more upset. (Yeah Gerard, you're not really as manly man as y'think you are, 'kay?)

And Frankie. Oh my God, Frankie. I've never felt so much empathy for a character in my life. He's so amazingly fragile and childlike it makes my heart physically yearn to leap through into this alternate universe and hug him to death.

" The cracked windshield wipers thudded out a funeral accompaniment to our breaking hearts, complemented by the spattering of icy rain against the windshield, and the only thing keeping the darkness from engulfing us was the glare of my headlights reflecting off the wet metal of the garage door. "

That set the scene so, so perfectly. There's just something in the way that you put words together that makes them feel like they belong.

And:

" I cried.

I fucking cried, until my chest had ossified into a solid plate of cold, hard cartilage and aching bone, until I couldn’t think straight, until my eyeballs were raw and pickled with salt and my throat tasted like bloody venison and my heart beneath my ribs had swollen into a bruised, dead lump of tangled muscle, pulsing weakly with misplaced electricity. And when I couldn’t cry any more, I just sat there in the cold, watching my breath cloud the windows with his hot unconscious body crushed to my ribs as though we could share a single heartbeat. "

You and me both, G, you and me both.

I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD. Even though I kind of thought it was inevitable from when I started reading this story, it still shocked me. It was just what seemed like endless pain for both of them throughout the course of this and then it was suddenly over. I didn't really know what to do about this kind of revelation, so I settled for Kleenex.

And then:

" And then his cellophane eyelids were flickering and he was moving in my lap, whimpering unconsciously, suddenly damp and sweaty and shaking hard in the freezing morning air.

The fever had broken. "

YES. I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW. But obviously, I won't.

And I think, as my final quote, this was pretty much the most romantic thing ever:

" “F-Frankie…” What could I fucking say to him? “Frankie, I lo-”

But I choked on the words as he clenched his pearlescent white teeth, dragging our faces roughly together by his grip on my shirt and silencing the words that he had been waiting so long to hear as our cold, numb blue lips melted together into a moist, icy crush of saliva and heat and the ever-present whisper of copper sugar.

“It’s okay,” he choked breathlessly into the kiss, shuddering hard with the cold and the energy it was taking to cling to me. “I kn-know.”

The tears spilled down my frozen face like hot battery acid, carving lines of pain and relief into my cheeks, and just before he could collapse brokenly back into my lap, nothing more than a disjointed skeleton of scattered bones and ice, I wrapped my arms tightly around his small body, feeling it twist weakly and finally give way into my embrace.

“I love you,” Frankie whispered raggedly, all saltwater and blood and shivery seductive exhaustion, and his lips were twisted into a wider smile than I had ever seen him wear through the tears that were coating his pale skin. “I love you I love you I love you.” "

The way you write (especially in this, I think; it's your style personified) is so lyrical and so...fskrlkr breathtaking. You truly make writing into an art form and manage to rebuild my faith that there is talent, there are people on here who have the gift to make something out of nothing and it makes me HAPPYYYYY.

Elizabeth Kaylor, I salute you!

And you owe me a new box of tissues, and my dignity.

Pshawww.

your descriptions are truly awe-inspiring. I just can't get enough of it. The way you tangle certain words together is so amazing, it never fails to provokes feelings in me.

the most beautiful imagery I've ever read to be honest. I'm sad to see this story end, but it's worth re-reading again because every time I re-read a chapter, I capture a new essence of it.

:arms:

New reader here. I just had to comment about chapter 7 it is the most heartbreaking, breathtaking, I just don't know thing I've ever read ina fanfic, actually I can't even call your story a fanfic.... AMAZING

Thank you guys.

Okay, so i have just read the entire story all in one go and i have to say that it was apsolutely incredible.
The way you write left me utterly speechless, the raw emotion, the vivid descriptions and metaphors....all left me completely incoherent.

Each chapter that i read left me wanting more, enticing me into the story with your amazing descriptions, this is seriously a work of art. The way you write is just beautiful.

Wow, i don't know what else i can say that can give you and your story a bigger compliment...just amazing.

Thankyou for writing such a wonderful story.
xx

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was so ridiculously amazing. You outdid yourself, which is saying something.

Wow.

When I read Headlights, it's like I can physically feel the story. It makes me eyes and ears hurt, gives me a funny feeling in my stomach and my head. It's amazing. Wow.

I promised you a long rambling comment, and looking at everyone else's, I feel I must warn you mine will be nowhere near as well-put or sweet or coherent.

It's been an absolute age since I commented this story. I don't know how long, I just know too long, and for that I endlessly apologise.

The bedsheets were heavy with the scent of tears, a clean salinity that had none of the cloying humidity of sweat or sex, and I could taste the ocean in the angles and curves of his soft body, saturating every shuddering breath that he drew. Big big eyes, like dead algae pools, splashed salty teardrops across his cheeks, my chest, the bed, threatening to drown both of us in the constant flood of hopelessness and loss as I fought to keep my lips on his and my head above water.

Damnit -Big big eyes, like dead algae pools- Your words are too much.

The fear and anger were choking me like barbed wire snaking up my throat, the kind of spine-wrenching, nosebleed frustration that made me want to smash my head into something until the structure of my face began to fall apart.

Slam.

Slam. Blood!

Slam. Brains!

Slam. Bone! snot! teeth, flying out of my skull like silly-string and confetti to splatter a shitty imitation of a Jackson Pollack canvas on the white bedroom wall.

Words that would usually make me squirm, I think. But with you they entice me; they inspire me, and leave me desperate for more.

“And I h-had a dream, G-ger…” He was almost moaning into my skin; my hands gripping his perfect thighs tightly as I fought not to lose control. “That we were f-fucking flying.”

For one transient second, his eyes caught the reflected light of the headlights, delirious emerald irises glittering with a thousand faultless facets of chemical green, and I believed that maybe, it was possible after all.



There isn't anything I can say to do you or this story justice, damnit.

YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD.

Elizabeth, you and your writing are simply beautiful in every way.

I'm gunna miss this story, bad. Ily

I must admit, it's been ages since I read the last and final chapter of this terrific story, but when I think of it, I still feel the same feeling that I had when I just finished reading it. Trust me to not being able to describe it.
I guess some things are just impossible to describe.
See here my small review, know that it's meant to be much bigger; much like this story; larger than life.

This story is a killer, it's overwhelming in every sense and it has me jumping off the walls, it's so utterly frustrating and- oh.
I've been postponing commenting on it for forever, because I want to do it honour so badly, I'm kind of ever-searching for the right words.
Really, really, Elizabeth. What can I say ?

I think I already told you this, but just for the record; I truly loved it.
This story; it's pain. It's love and it's life.
It gives me a sense of infinity, however fucked up that sounds.
God, the Gerard-character. Dear God. Always keep on going. Can you save someone so far gone? Never stop trying. So many doubts. Keep on going. Keep the faith ?
Forever and ever. Not just until the barrel of a.38 comes in sight, but forever after that. Love. so. terrifyingly. lethal.
Frank. My heart crumbles when I think of his character. Haven't we all been there at at least one point in our lives, to a more or lesser extent? God. It's heartbreaking.
Long live the fucking carcrash hearts, broken beyond repair, still always ever fucking beating; how do they do it?

This story is love in it's rawest form.
Damn, Elizabeth. You fucking nailed it.
I LOVE you.

Awww!!
Eek!
I fucking LOVED it!!
But now i'm sad,
my favorite storie has ended!
But it was happy and I loved it!!
=]]

An ending?

No.

Maybe to the part of the story that you're telling us, or maybe I should say that we're experiencing through your words. Because you don't tell the story -- there is no narrative here. It's pure experience transfigured into words.

But only the beginning of the story of Gerard and Frankie.

Thank you for bringing the hope out of the despair, mitigating the horror if only a tiny bit.

I couldn't believe when I saw that you had updated. I'm sorry that it's ended, although you did it beautifully. I was happy to see that your writing hadn't lost any of its power while this story languished.

And after that we both knew. There was no fixing Frankie.

I was terrified at that. I just knew that he would die. But now I take it as there being no way for other people to "fix" Frankie. It was something he had to do for himself... to come to terms with his life. All this time he was looking for someone to "fix" him, to take him away, to make things better. But as Glinda tells Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, "you've always had the power," but he "had to learn it for [him]self."

Day after day after day after fucking day I had my bloody hands buried deep inside his chest, fighting to piece the sharp, sticky edges of his shattered heart back together with my fingers.

How far Gerard has come from the self-obsessed man at the beginning of this. Who could have known that Frank was giving him such a gift?

Big big eyes, like dead algae pools, splashed salty teardrops across his cheeks, my chest, the bed, threatening to drown both of us in the constant flood of hopelessness and loss as I fought to keep my lips on his and my head above water.

Amazing imagery. "Powerful" just isn't a strong enough description.

And then, one windy night in the middle of winter, it stopped.

Because one can only pity oneself for so long. Then you either die or get the fuck over it. What other choices are there? My sister likes to say, "Cry me a river, then build a bridge and get the fuck over it."

I had to struggle to fight the metastasizing panic

metastasizing panic What an amazing phrase. It literally jumps from the page.

The fear twined in tightly around me like a tangle of thorny vines, and I had the awful, overwhelming feeling that there was a double meaning in his words.

As did I. But you had to let go. Because he had to do this alone. He had to face it. To fight it. To conquer it. Alone.

"I'm trying to keep you from fucking falling,"

But you can't. Oh God, you can't.

Slam.
Slam. Blood!
Slam. Brains!
Slam. Bone! snot! teeth, flying out of my skull like silly-string and confetti to splatter a shitty imitation of a Jackson Pollack canvas on the white bedroom wall.

Has pure unadulterated frustration ever been expressed more vividly or thoroughly than that? If so, I haven't found it.

How do you save someone so far gone?

You don't.

The engine vibration diffused into the muscle of my thighs as I slammed the driver's side door shut and turned the car on, nervously glancing over at the little disease next to me.

I have no point here. No comment. I just wanted to read those lines again.

eyes, still the same varnished toxin-green that made my stomach clench with inexplicable nerves, reminding me of crushed emeralds and clinging wet seaweed and kiwi, fermented and sugary like fruit liquor. Their decaying beauty

I'm lost in those colors.

And then his cellophane eyelids were flickering and he was moving in my lap, whimpering unconsciously, suddenly damp and sweaty and shaking hard in the freezing morning air.

I think I was more shocked that Gerard was.

"F-Frankie..." What could I fucking say to him?

Only the truth, Gerard. Finally, now that you've realized it... now that it's grown. The truth.

"Frankie, I lo-"
But I choked on the words as he clenched his pearlescent white teeth, dragging our faces roughly together by his grip on my shirt and silencing the words that he had been waiting so long to hear

Because when it's true. When you both know it's true. The words aren't so important any more.

Gut-clenching, stomach-churning, heart-wrenching, rib-snapping love, the kind that leaves you screaming; blood rushing, heart pumping thick, dull red through throbbing veins as your torso collapses with agony, every single fucking bone splintering as the terror and lust take control.

Once again, quoted just so that I could read it again. *sigh*

I believed that maybe, it was possible after all.