It's simple. You either mope around and think that you will never be good enough, or you stand up and start working till your last breath leaves you. That is what makes a person successful. Not inborn talent, but sheer hard work and willpower.

Message to Readers

I've created a protagonist who is starkly different from me. I'm female but he's male. He's older. And all his traits are the exact opposite of mine. I've tried my best to represent a vastly different personality, so I hope that I can get feedback on how to improve myself.

The Troubled & His Thesis

December 12, 2018

PROMPT: Polar Opposite

On Saturday morning Max Orson burnt his college thesis papers. 

It was an impulsive act that had sprung out from him like the delirious flames of fire eating up the documents. No, he was never the kind to jump without thinking; he would rather sip tea while weighing the pros and cons of taking the first step. 
But this situation seemed to fog his decision-making abilities. He seemed to be making a fool of himself in his small, stuffy room. A room, albeit an immaculate one, seemed to be a clautrophobic's nightmare -- books crammed into minute spaces, a study desk occupying more than half the room, and sharp corners that close in onto any person who walk in.

And in one of the corners stood Max, his sea-blue eyes showing the reflection of the formidable orange flames. Not a speck of remorse was seen on his face, not one tiny speck. Instead, frustration and anger were etched on his face like an indelible carving. His lanky arms were tensed and his fists were clenched. His shoulders were heaving. His whole body was rigid with indescribable fury, fury that was borne from helplessness. 

Anger. Oh, the anger. Never in his 23 years of life had Max felt like a failure -- until that day. And he had never felt such compulsion to end all his attempts -- futile, in his sense -- in such a horrendous way. Wisps of overgrown blond hair fell over his freckled cheeks as he thought about the reasons that led him to this. First was his sister's diagnosis of blood cancer. Second was the sudden death of his father, the sole breadwinner for the family. And third-- who had the patience to list all the troubles of his unlucky life? Hope had dwindled from his heart. Watching the tongues of flames licking on the remains of his dreams and satiating their hunger, the wrath in him morphed into utter despondence. Despondence that ploughed into him and dissolved his resolve. Despondence that reduced him to merely nothing but ashes left behind from unspeakable grief. 

Max couldn't take it anymore. Dropping onto his knees and covering his face with soot-covered hands, he wept. He wept for the first time in many years. 


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  • December 12, 2018 - 8:57am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • AntChanel

    This is deep, these are the only words I have right now. I feel like this would be a pretty real situation to be in, if someone were that desperate.

    over 1 year ago