Most people overestimate the amount of power it takes to remove someone from consciousness – at least temporarily. For the average person, it isn’t hard to rock someone to the ground with a mere punch – if you know where to aim. A quick jab, and then it’s all over and you’ve won the fight. Unless you’re fighting a boxer; in which case, it’ll take a lot more to get him to even blink. In a lot of ways, boxers are professional hit-takers. They get paid to take punches and inflict pain upon another; and yet it is seen as a pretty noble and competitive profession.
But you couldn’t pay me to do that. You might be able to pay me to take each punch and wipe away my blood on my sleeve and brandish a maybe toothless smile afterwards, but you couldn’t pay me to raise my fist and fight back. You couldn’t pay me to do what you did to me.
Though these punches be metaphorical, and I have never actually bled from taking shots to my body, I suppose I know what it’s like to be in the ring; a square of insecurity painted already red by my love for you falling to the canvas. My blood flying off of every inch of my face, being pelted in the corner by your blows over and over again until I no longer found the strength in myself to get back up.
But I was resilient in all the wrong ways; resilient to take the KO punches from you every time and come back just the same with my armor anew, maybe a bruise here or there or a chipped tooth. And yet it was very interesting to those of us – yes, us – when we compared the scars and cuts left behind by the blows, but I guess sometimes you gotta take hits to deal a hit.
We never dealt hits though, we were the punching bags in the gym brought to life, the response of a strong shot being a cry and a scream, possibly a tear if it was that good. Tears and tears. Tears fell down our cheeks as you tore us apart, laughing sadistically with everyone. Sometimes you’d claim it was just a joke, but we knew better.
We are not boxers. We have been knocked out more times than we can count, and it’s near impossible to count when you’re knocked down.
Dear Zaid,
Damn. Who hurt you? I thought that this piece was honestly very good and I’m proud of you. I have noticed that you’ve really came out of your comfort zone this year and I think I can speak for the whole class that we’re happy you did because you bless us with your writing each time. I love your metaphors in this piece especially the line: “a square of insecurity painted already red by my love for you falling to the canvas.”
For improvement, the only thing I could think of is maybe refer back to the consciousness that you introduced this piece with throughout the entire text.
Good job.
Sincerely,
Tina
Dear Chris-Tina
Thank you very much for reading and commenting on my work. Your feedback is much appreciated and I’m glad you find my attempts to write new things interesting. I’m glad you reminded me of the consciousness aspect to the writing, and I will look to following through with that.
Thanks,
Zaid
Dear Zaid,
Short and sweet. As soon as I saw Pacquiao in the thumbnail, and your name underneath it, I knew I had to leave all work just to read this. I appreciate how you’ve improved vastly compared to last year, and have tried a whole new genre of writing, romance. You’ve inspired me to come out of my comfort zone and write about the things I wanted to express, but not write. This is an excellent example of your style of writing in my opinion, because you weave in and out of romance, but still maintain the incredible atmosphere of a boxing ring. I’ve seen you do that before, and I’m impressed that you did the same thing here.
What I feel is ironic is the fact that you talk about taking blows upon blows even when you’re weak. I know that you mean this metaphorically, but Pacquiao is a symbol of this piece, and you probably know what I’m talking about. Young Pacquiao couldn’t afford to finish high school and dropped out due to poverty. These were big hits that he took. Yet, he persisted and today, he is being considered as The Fighter of the Decade. Great idea to use him as your featured image.
In terms of constructive criticism, I have almost nothing to say, but the area where you could improve could be the final sentence at the end of your piece. It seems a little repetitive, and I think you could take away the second half and replace it with something like the following:
…We are not boxers. We have been knocked out more times than we can count, and it’s near impossible to count when you’re down.
Overall, this was a meticulous and inspiring piece, looking forward to your next R O M A N C E piece.
Sincerely,
Unas
Dear 🅱️unas,
Thank you for taking a look at my blog post! I’m glad that my efforts to step out of my comfort zone have been inspiring to you. I know that you personally have a lot of great writing hidden away, but I do really want you to put that up for us to read.
Thanks for seeing the Manny Pacquiao reference, because he has had a hard life and a very inspiring story, so I actually think about him a lot as a physical and metaphorical boxer.
I agree with your suggestion, the last line was a bit repetitive and confusing. Thank you for coming to my blog and leaving your words. I welcome you here again for your advice.
Sincerely,
Zaid
Zaid