To be honest, I feel so limited when writing in first person. I have problems dealing with other characters besides MC, and how to introduce them to the readers without MC's eyes, it's just weird but admittedly easier to write since one can focus on what MC sees alone, not the entire world since he doesn't really know eveything - unlike third person.
Third person poses a great challenge for me, as I have always been inept in description. And I guess this particular comment made me re-think everything: there are too many I this and I that. And I think that's annoying. So, I'll start from 0 and make it third. Thank you for this wonderful thread. I learned alot.
But if anyone is interested to critique my first person writing before I destroy everything, I can paste it down below. Thank you.
Prologue
A blinding light. The deafening sound of silence. Silence? My hearing was probably impaired; there was no way everything nor was anything silent. Before my eyes were the ruckus and destruction; the flaming fires - the tempest, the suffocation due to huge amount of carbon dioxide. Suddenly thrown into confusion, my mind was in a constant state of panic.
My hands outstretched; hoping I can still reach you.
My mind wanted to go and rush to you - to save you, but my incapable body made sure I cannot; I was powerless, I was useless – I was unable to protect the most important person in my life – you.
You let down your life in order to save me and that was what I cannot seem to comprehend. It was the purest form of love; to sacrifice oneself for the sake of the others. But for me it was... stupid. It was supposedly yourself before others right? Humans are selfish, aren’t they? Then, why? Why did you have to die?
While you were slowly dying before my eyes, I was down on the ground, squirming in pain, crawling closer, hoping to reach you - hoping to be with you in your final moments.
A pain in my stomach; like it was turned into knots – indescribable pain. I cannot move anymore.
My mouth agape, my soul – howling; but no audible sound came out.
My heart was breaking. I was beyond torment but no tear fell from my eyes - yes, it's as if I died with you.
Surviving that hell was indeed a miracle.
Before I even understood what living means, I was forced to discern the thing called “death”; the concept of which living means dying eventually – a cessation of being, the ultimate end - la fin. In an early age, I was faced with the reality of life - where death is equal. Like rain, death falls upon everyone with no exception - poor, rich, kind, sinful — death is permanent; a never changing concept of the world.
I forcibly opened my eyes and exhaled the breath I didn't knew I was holding. Again. This dream again. Ever since that day, I was unable to dream about anything else. I have been dreaming the same dream for more than ten years now, yet, the memory was as vivid as if it only happened yesterday. I can feel the heat - the agony. My subconscious mind always contained nothing but the repeat of my younger self spiraling between life and death – her death.
I blinked a few times as I recuperated from my dreadful state.
"Five-thirty, huh?"
It was way too early, but, there's no way I can go back to sleep again thinking I might experience the same hell for the second time in a day.
Facing my mother's altar, like my everyday routine, I lighted the incense and offered a silent prayer.
"Mother, I'm going to school now."