Well, shit.

Whatever, I told myself I'd review stories I had strong opinions on, so let's get it done with all of your stories I've read so far and then go talk to my cousin and continue writing 'Laughs Thee To Scorn' in order to overcome the depression.

So, your first question was whether you should have published this or not. I greatly debated, but I knew the answer, I just didn't want to say it. So: This story is a work of art. I greatly enjoyed it. And its main importance is in the inner look it allows us into your thoughts and writing processes. Reading this story and the information contained in it, one better understand why you write what you write, how you do so, and what leads you to do so. It lets us understand all your characters better through you. In this sense, it was right and important that you publish it. However, I cannot do more than that. You see, at the same time, this is too personal a fic. It does not simply explore your characters in contrast and connection to you; it also uses your characters to speak to you, and solely to you. It is an expression of innermost thoughts, blah blah blah, all that shit about using certain methods to tell yourself the truth or deal with the world or whatever the crap people talk about. And in that sense, it is far too personal for me to comment upon; I do not believe I have any right to comment on yourself and its problems and solutions, and what undead chivalry I still have prevents me from being rude enough to do so (not to mention I hate those people who don't know you and yet think they can solve or comment on your problems). So, I cannot comment much more, and nor will I favorite this (despite greatly enjoying it), because it is not mine to lay claim to, even if only in saying I like it.

Comments I can actually make: your sex scenes were awesome, I love your portrayal of Rosalie, and allusions to the classics (the real classics) are important and almost always good, as long as they're done correctly - as they are, in this story.

After reading this I am convinced that I do not want you as a Beta. Primarily because you will, in fact, tear me to pieces much like Rosalie did to Melissa. I am adamant that I will not be able to handle that kind of peel back. A tongue lashing that will leave me naked, cold and alone.

This has to be one of the most moving pieces I have ever read. Rarely do people actually put parts of themselves or even their deepest thoughts out there to the world and I really do applaud you for doing so.

I cried when I sat outside, drawing the last breath of smoke from my cigarette, as I contemplate what I really 'felt' about this piece. To some extents you described me perfectly, a person afraid to step out from behind a laptop or a desk and truly live life, whether good, bad, ugly or just plain devastating. I have never been a someone who openly talks about feelings, regrets, worries and desperation.

No.

I let myself dig the hole deeper until I am utterly buried up to my neck in my own desperation. I barely feel anything any more, no real emotions, not ones that matter anyway. The last time I cried was when I was 16 and I watched them bury my best friend. The same people that promised every day that they would be there for me suddenly weren't. I am not trying to turn her death into my own sick way of trying to get attention.

No.

She promised me that she would be with me forever and now I can't even remember her favourite number or what perfume she used to wear. Is it so wrong to be angry and bitter? To want to shut the world out and just write stories on how you wished your life could have been, on what you wished, that by chance it still was?

I hide well behind humor and anger, sniping comments and disdain. I was the kid who picked on myself before others could point out my flaws. I was the kid who hid behind a brick wall and let others trample over me.

I have a friend now whom is gay and who I love dearly. We have known each other going on 10 years and she is the only person I trust. It took me 8 of those 10 years to open up to her fully without hiding away and even though she calls me out on my depressive bullshit and my absolutely disgusting thoughts, she's stayed. She stayed listened and even gave me advice. She is the only one who has never hurt me and is the best person I have ever known. For 10 years not a week has gone by where we haven't seen each other and I am thankful that she still is there.

I am not looking for pity or trying to gain your trust. I am simply being truthful as you asked.

I got choked up when Rosalie asked Melissa how many times she thought about suicide. Why you ask? Let me explain... There have been two occasions I have tried but never had the guts to actually complete. Attempted, they called it in the ambulance. Unstable, they told my parents in the hospital. Staying, the nurses said when my parents walked out the door. It took me two weeks of bullshit lies to get out of that cold, sterile junction. And it only took me three to end up back in there.

Much like Melissa's - Julia, I had my own.

I won't say his name but he came in the form of a man, but I should have known he was a monster. His sharp tongue and even sharper back hand where two things that I thought I could live with. I thought I could pretend and just imagine that he didn't mean it and it was my fault. That because I was different than other people that maybe I deserved to be treated differently as well. I was 16 when I followed him. I was 16 and just as stupid and naive as a three year old. But I followed him, I let him wear me down, let him chip away at me and make me feel like I was honoured to be with him.

Unlike Melissa, I am not a member of Mensa, nor finished college - I barely made it out of high school - alive anyways. I have never been a cultured person, one who had family dinners and sat at a table of friends. I had a house full of hate. And while I do love my family, I loathe them at the same time. But more than that I hate myself for not standing up and telling them what they were doing was destroying me, what they left unsaid ate away at me like a disease.

I told myself once that I would leave and never come back. I did and I failed. More than once, more than I could count.

But I guess the pain is no longer as hurtful anymore, though it still runs deep. I try and get up every morning and thank someone for what I do have rather than what I don't. I have my best friend and I have my stories.

Unlike Melissa, I am not ready to love anytime soon, not ready to cast away my walls of protection and be the person I want to be. I know that only cowards live in their minds. But at this very minute the coward in me protects me from opening up and excepting people into my life. My stories are my walls and they protect me.

I was going to say I don't know why I am writing this for every one to see, but it's clear. I just guess I needed someone else to know - you - to know.

And while I sit here behind my computer I feel safe. Maybe one day I will step out from behind it's reflection and start looking at myself more clearly. But today is not the day. And only tomorrow will know when.

Your story invoked this reaction from me and I couldn't put it in to better words, but these are words from my heart, please know that. I am not fishing for a response nor encouraging words that everything will be okay and that love is out there. I know that nothing could change but how I think and what I do. I just want to thank you for introducing me to your story and sharing in a timeless truth.

I wish you well in the future and hopefully one day we will both be content in what ever life throws at us.

Ses

My Sweet Little Brat,

As you read this you are most likely going to say ‘all that for that?’ Or maybe you won’t, and maybe you will go all ‘phfina on me, or maybe you won’t. You gave me a free ‘license to kill’ and I have read this piece of yours countless times now. I have been wondering what to write to you about it, for months.

You asked this as a Christmas present, and again, you want it out there for all to see. We both know you won’t be able to remove it, if I say anything ‘wrong’, and thank you for trying, but the pressure is still very much there.

Do you remember telling me ‘Cécile: you are Rosalie. You are strong, VERY opinionated, and OMR so, so caring, and so, so careful about it, pretending to shield your so vulnerable heart, thinking that will prevent heartbreak as you die every day in your oh-so-perfect and protected life. YOU are Rosalie.’ ? I remember reading it and my jaw dropping to the floor. You fucking self righteous little shit. Mais le coup de grâce did not come from your actual words, though it did shut me up for a minute or two, but mostly because I thought of you as Rosalie.

Many people will think you are a Bella, but to me, you are Rosalie. And you so don’t need to be a panther to be Rosalie.

And yes, I am Rosalie.

So does it mean we are her? Does it mean you are me? Does it mean I am you? Why do I look at you, and what you share of your life and see my reflection in your mirror?

You make me angry, because you hit home, with your resilience, with your pain, with your victimization, with your shattered heart and trampled insides, with your timid hope.

I read your ‘Rosalie and Me’ and I have to remind myself, that you are not me, though we are the same and as banal as so many other human beings that it makes me dizzy.

And you wear your sufferings like a badge on your chest pinned through your bare skin, bleeding through your every pore. I see the broken child, the torn apart young woman and I feel your pain, I feel your struggles, I feel every battle you fight and I want to scream at you, I want you to be a thousand times stupider than you are so that you don’t say those things, you don’t puke that truth of yours, of ours and that I don’t have to look at you but at me, and … and then I want to love you. I want to love you into being better, I want to love you to a better place, so that you understand you can BE.

I want to hammer all the keys into you so that you don’t have to hurt, so that you can become more of who you are, and be alive the way you crave.

I can’t.

You want to die and I can’t. Only you can.

And should I care so much? I choose to. You are worth it. I don’t give a flying fvck what ‘they’ could think of that. I couldn’t do anything else but love you, now, could I?

Hell I barely can for myself.

Not that I have them all, the keys, but the Pandora Box, it’s not killing me as much as it was anymore. It’s possible. You’re the only one who can, you are responsible for yourself.

You know that, I know that you do. All I can do, is stand by you, solid, unmovable, and let you go at it.

Remember when you said I am selfish, and it’s all about me. Yes I speak from my point of view, from my take on life, from what I know and fight for, and you could not be more wrong. You could not be more wrong, and it’s okay.

Your ‘Rosalie and Me’, it’s excellent of course, even your transitions are amazing, like everything you write, it’s caustic enough, a marvelous piece of self-mockery, and an incredible proof of love for yourself, it must have cost you so much to write this, so very much. And yes, I can see the hope and how much love you crave. I can also see how you are going right back to your misery. Your regard on sexuality just cracks me up though, and you are so inventive yet so predictable, and no, your bb didn’t think of it all.

None of us find it every day, the will to do better than just breathing another breath, it is unimaginably hard to choose healthy over our misery, and you and I, like millions of others, we’re starting the race with a handicap.

‘Ignorance is bliss’ and you and I have been cursed, because ignorance will never be enough, and you SEE, you can’t give it up. I wish I could tell you that it’s okay, you simply got the worse of your pain in a short amount of time, you went through it all and now it’s going to be nothing but better. I wish.

What gives me faith in you, is that you see your patterns, although you revel in your own shit more often than not, you see the patterns, you can actually do something with your life. You are not like all the others, who don’t stand a chance, because they never had a chance to begin with.

Damage goods indeed, but salvageable.

You have so much to live, so much to do, don’t ever let go of this hope of yours, and keep doing, even if you fvck up, even if it’s baby fvcking steps that are even tiny for a baby, don’t you ever stop. Don’t forget that you have power, you have a choice, even if you are disarmed by your own honesty, because you’re too fvcking smart to buy it anymore.

This piece sounds like the first step of being more you and less of the ‘little nothing girl’ you think you are (not). Just listen to Rosalie. And please, don’t go hurt yourself with my words okay? I don’t pity you one bit, I just love you for who you are, I have, from the very first moment.

I love you tenderly,

C.

PS: ‘All this for that?’ It’s nothing new is it? Nothing that you don’t already know. What a disappointment …

PPS: And again, I am telling you what to do. It’s so frustrating, so not perfect, so me. It’s just you know, I am waiting on you and I am so impatient. Forgive me?

PS of ALL PSs ever: So I keep repeating myself, and I am so boring. I guess the only thing I am telling you is: I love you anyway.

You can keep thinking you are a monster, and coming at me with shit, and keep pushing all the buttons that hurt, just to make sure, again and again, that yes, you are loved, and yes I am still not gone.

You can do that, for as long as you need. Though, we both know, you will never be enough ‘sure’, certainty does not exist in this.

Or you can accept it, and enjoy that I love you, and include that in your support system, you know, the one that is supposed to help you grow and love yourself, and find your purpose in this world, so you don’t have to want to die all the time.

Extra-PS: And this is a review okay? Just ... it has a lot of non-review elements in it. So there.

Supra-PS: I read all the other reviews you got on this, and they're very serious, me think. I liked Saga's review, particularly the catharsis, it was very ... well I am glad she wrote it.

"When I go to meet God, this evening and doff my hat before the holy gates, my salute will sweep the blue threshold of heaven, because I still have one thing intact, without a stain, something that I will take with me in spite of you! You ask what it is? I'll tell you! It's ...

My Panache!"

Sur ce, si vous voulez-bien m'excuser, je m'incline bien bas, me découvre et vous baise la main, pour vous dire adieu Madame ...

C.

Sometimes life is stranger than fiction. And harder. And crueler.

Sometimes our little world just stops turning - while the world around us keeps going.

Sometimes we all need a 'Rosalie' to open our eyes and to remind us of life, to push us forward and to make us feel alive again.

Because she is the personification of hope. And even in the darkest, numbest and emptiest moments of our lives, there always is a faint light at the end of the tunnel, which all of us can reach. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but at some point we all find back on track.

And that's what you captured so beautifully in this piece. It was - as always - an amazing and powerful read. A read that brought back many memories and experiences of my own life, but today it doesn't hurt anymore. Today I'm back to my old self, just wiser, stronger and enjoying every moment of life.

Quod non me interficit me confirmat.

Thanks for sharing this story, 'phfina, and kudos to another great piece of writing.

And here's a German kiss for you, two for your 'friend' and three for Rosalie. :-******

I've been contemplating writing a review for this for some time. Since you first published it really and honestly, I'm far to limited in my knowledge of English to really express the emotions and thoughts this fic brings up in me.

Some issues raised are things I have personal experience with and so I can empathise with the character.

It's not difficult to let life or terrible events get to you.

The turn about, with meeting 'Melanie' was uplifting and left me hoping for better things to come.

The silver lining to the clouds.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step comes to mind when I read this. Her decision to initiate a beginning, to 'do' instead of 'work on' was her first step to improvement. To finding happiness.

It's something I need to 'work on'.

Powerful piece of fiction, as your work usually is.

It's authors/ess's like yourself that inspire me to better my own writing, though I know I lack the complete ability to reach your level of skill.

Wow...i mean, fucking fuckity fuck! That was the most intense, heartbreaking, amazing, twisted, unbearably erotic fic ive read so far. All i can think is wow! The destinct word play and overwheling emotions...just wow! You literally had me wiping my eyes throughout the whole story, and i like to think that i lack the ability to feel...sometimes anyway. I thought about ending it all a few times, even now, but ive found a new sense of hope for living from reading this fic. I realize that some peoples lives are way more fuck up than mine, so im just gonna wake up everyday and tell myself to breath. Just breath in life' cuz you only get one chance to live, and i want to exist for a purpose, not really sure what that purpose is but i guess thats the whole irony of it; thats what life all about, you live in search of a purpose. So to make things short, thankyou!

I know I should have left this review a long time ago. But I have prolonged it over and over and then some more. Reread it and felt panic and just said to myself: ‘ no, I’ll do it tomorrow and then I will manage to look at it as nothing more than just a text, simply a bunch of words put together creating sentences. Easy right?’

That was two weeks ago more or less. Well, more than less really.

And I still don’t know what to say or where to begin. My humble English is not making this easy for me either. It was a heartbreaking but yet a hopeful text to read. Some ‘episodes’ or ‘sequences’ were too uncomfortable for me to even leave a comment on, so I will not do that.

One word that comes to mind reading this text is Catharsis. Every happening, every failure and every fear is brought up and put in the light, studied thoroughly. And it is painful and very cruelly done. But are things being solved and settled? Well, some are: Julia, the older brother, ‘Ms Puke-inducer’.

But the real deal, the Fear is not solved and put to rest. For you see, that fear (of commitment, for not being adequate and enough in a relationship or simply to yourself and the people closest to you) will always be with you. No matter how old you get or how experienced you become. It lessens a bit over the years yes, but you will constantly be reminded of it: in your interactions with other people and in the interaction with yourself. And that is what it is to be human, ‘phfina.

So, do this girl arises any cleaner afterwards? After being washed in her own tears and Rosalie’s… uh, well. Yes she does. But it’s the beginning of a long journey that will last for the rest of her life. She will not be perfect or completed but she has begun somewhere! She has initiated in the ‘doing’ instead of the ‘working on’. And just by doing that she has already gotten so far.

I would like to think that Rosalie was trying to tell ‘this girl’ that her venom was not just a balm for the skin, but maybe, maybe even a balm for the soul…

Hugs and kisses Saga

Intense piece of 'fiction' right here! I enjoyed reading the struggles and success of the main character. I like the idea of writing a one-shot partially written about my own struggles because we all need some sort of release, right? Idk, just ignore my ramblings. I'm beat and tend to random about nonsensical things when tired.

Thanks for the great stories. and for what its worth I, so far have enjoyed your fanfics more than your brothers (but I'm only 2 chapters in MSR and the only reason I am reading it is because you speak highly of him and his stories)

-lexi

I found this terribly sad and beautiful at the same time. Is that strange, given that there are a rather good bout of lemons in it? Not with you. You're always very good at intermingling emotional with physical and this is no different.

It makes me sad that someone as promising as this character, 'phfina, contemplates suicide. The story seems to show that at least one person, her brother, loves her very much and that should be enough. And if it's not, then 'Melanie' and the anonymous h-cream recommender do.

You don't have to be Donald Trump or Stephenie Meyer (god help us, please don't be her) to be happy. If Starbucks makes 'phfina happy then she should embrace it. If it doesn't make her happy, then there's plenty of time to find out what does make her happy.

And it seems like she's getting there. The end of this story hinted at that and I'll admit that part made me smile, yeah? I think 'phfina will get through all of this and in the end, she'll look back on this story, smile kind of fondly, and write something a little more truthful to how she's grown.

Hey, this is a pretty impressive review. Like one of yours or geophf's. Do I get a cookie for that? :P

Paige

I was a little hesitant about reading this after reading the "Mary Sue" warning. "Mary Sue" stories are not really my thing, but I ended up giving it a try because 1) I like the way you write, and 2) I'm making myself try things I normally wouldn't. So, I read it, and then, I read it again.

I haven't read all of your posted work (it's on my to-read list), but of the two stories I have read, I have to say this one evoked the most emotion. The writing felt more organic and I felt more of a connection to what I was reading (that might be because Rosalie's "words of wisdom" may or may not have struck a little too close to home, but never mind that. ;) ).

Also, it was, you know, HOT! :D

As for whether or not you should pull it, you should do what you want. I hope you leave it, though. It's a great piece of writing, most especially the entire scene with Rosalie.

Also, all the references to Sbux made me nostalgic for all the years of I wore the green apron, especially waking up at stupid o'clock every morning to serve coffee. I STILL (sadly) remember my partner number. Good times!

So glad it wasn't this Melissa person's ghost writing this and wandering the streets both broad and narrow of DC crying "Stories and Fanfics: Alive Alive O"

That would have been most unfortunate.

Then mayhap from her grave there could grow a rose that may perchance meet with a green brier and tie in true loves on top of the old church wall. When, of course, they could grow no higher.

If that were to happen though no one could come along and reap it with a sickle of leather only to callously gather it all in a bunch of heather.

I too love old ballads from the British Isles.

-Enjorous

Of *course* it's about a 'friend' of yours...*wink* 'phfina'

I REALLY love you XD You and your brother are amazing XD If you ever publish a book...email me so I can pre order XD

Oh. My. God. wait. Let me get that right. Oh My Rosalie!

*pant pant*

Well, "honey bee" that was one hell of a story. The next time Rosalie comes to you darlin, send her my way please? I could use a good talking to like that as well.

Perhaps it would cure some things I have issues with.

*hugs* I'm sorry for what needs to be sorry for.

And I understand.

I hope you followed her advice, and If you didn't, you should. Its excellent advice.

and I hope bb listened to you. Because everyone needs someone to listen. I'm here if you need a listening ear.

Oh. My. Rosalie!

The .. wow. (speechless once more)

I don't know what else to say. Truly.