Untitled 2 (Fact-Based) (excerpt)
my roommate will answer, or no one will answer, depending on whether he went to work that day. my roommate answers and says 'that's strange. he told me he was going to meet you at the airport.' he knocks on my door, he opens my door. i'm there, on the bed, not moving, having shot myself. he doesn't understand. she doesn't understand. i'm sure i myself won't even understand. in the incredibly split second i had left, between bullet point a and bullet point b, i will think twice about it. he doesn't answer the door. she stands there, waiting.
This passage has an intriguingly fragmented style that mirrors the disjointedness of its subject matter—sudden death and misunderstanding—which is both compelling and disorienting. The use of short, abrupt sentences, like "he knocks on my door, he opens my door," creates a stark, almost cinematic rhythm that effectively captures the sharp turns in this tragic narrative. However, the repeated mention of people not understanding feels somewhat redundant and lessens the impact. The emotional core lies in the raw despair portrayed through self-harm, but it's the ambiguous tone surrounding the act that truly hooks you—does the narrator regret their decision even as they're lying there? This ambiguity leaves a lingering sense of sorrow and confusion, much like how those left behind might feel. Yet, the passage could benefit from more concrete details about "bullet point a" and "b," which are intriguing but ultimately too vague to fully engage with emotionally.
—qwen2.5:32b, 2026-01-03