I've been overwhelmed by some of the reviews I've been receiving already. Here's just a few of the comments:
"From the dedication at the beginning up to the end this was both a thought provoking and an emotional read for me and I loved it!" - Sandra @ JeanzBookReadNReview
"This story tugged at my heartstrings, played on my every emotion. It was a beautifully written story of how an introverted young girl blossoms into a beautiful young woman." - Keren Hughes, Author of Nothing Like The First Time
"A heartbreaking read that sometimes had me close to tears." - Susan @ Ladies Living in Bookland
There's still time to sign up for the blog tour HERE.
Not Enough is also on a special pre-order price of 99c until the release!
From: Neve Colvin
To: Neve Colvin
To: Neve Colvin
One word, four letters. It sticks in my throat and refuses to come out. Maybe it’s not the right time, or maybe I’m just scared. But it’s normal to be scared, right? Saying that word isn’t something a person should undertake lightly. Once the word is out, it can’t be reclaimed. Once it’s said it becomes real and actions must follow.
Words can hurt—I should know that well by now. They cut deeper than a knife, and the wounds last longer even if they’re invisible. Some people will show off scars like they’re a trophy, telling you the story behind each and every one no matter how boring or traumatic the event was. The scars are like a brand to them, and I’m thankful that the ones left by your words aren’t visible to the naked eye for everyone to gawp at.
It doesn’t take a psychopath, murderer, or unstable person to hurl words that are meant to maim. Anyone can, and anyone does. They cut to the core, repeatedly stabbing and twisting deeper into the heart. They play with peoples’ minds and no one can see the consequences until it’s too late. A person can take a lot of verbal abuse, but there’s always a limit.
Like a riverbank that is battered repeatedly by the water, bits of me have been chipped off and worn away. If you could see inside of me you’d notice I’m no longer whole, but rather a scratched and scarred person who’s been pieced back together too many times. I’m ugly on the inside. Fragments are missing, wounds are both fresh and old; I’m bleeding and I can’t stop your latest comments from slicing me open and adding to the unusual piece of artwork.
I’ve weathered a lot of attacks, but I’ve finally reached my limit.
Saying it should be easy. You’ve destroyed everything I’ve been working for, shattered every dream, and broken the person I want to be. You’ve pushed me beyond my limit, yet I can’t do it. I feel weak because of it. It makes me hate myself more. That you have this kind of control over me when you don’t even care isn’t right, but it is what it is.
A part of me wants to say it. I want to convince myself it’s the best solution. After all, you’re never going to change, are you? What’s the point in sticking around to suffer more?
Regardless, sitting here with salty tears dripping from my face I gaze out at the horizon through blurred eyes. I haven’t been able to stop them since I ran out on you. My eyeliner has long since stopped marking me with black trails, I’m now just blotchy … a mess. My sleeves are incapable of drying my face, too wet to be of any use, and I only have one tissue on me. Not that my body cares. The wounds ripping open inside of me all over again refuse to allow the tears to stop, and in a way I don’t want them to. It’s cathartic … the only way I can release what you’ve done to me.
A chilly, evening breeze hits my back and sends a shiver down my spine. It stirs the edges of my zip-up hoodie, causing them to whip at my sides. Tendrils of hair stick to my face from the water trails. The pieces that have escaped that fate swarm around my head like a cluster of snakes. As strands catch my face in the wind, it’s like they’re adding more poison to my already broken mind. I just wish they’d numb it.
You did this. It’s all your fault.
You’re responsible for making me come out here to write this. I’m sitting here, looking down at the river, watching as the current batters the water against the rocks and wondering if it would feel as bad as what you’ve done. The amount of water makes my tears seem small in comparison. In fact, my whole life seems small. Because that’s what you think, isn’t it? It’s what everyone thinks of me: that I’m weird, don’t fit in, don’t act normally. My choices aren’t good enough for anyone. I was meant to have a chance like you said, but you couldn’t even give me that. Instead you broke the one thing I wanted more than anything, making it impossible.
I knew you were mean, but I didn’t think you’d go that far.
It’s not something you have to repeat on a daily basis either. I know I’m not the daughter you wanted. I get that I’m a disappointment and fail you at every turn, but it’s not something I strive for.
All I want is to be accepted for who I am, but you can’t …
One word, four letters. That’s all it is. Four tiny letters and everything will be solved for me.
All rights reserved © Copyright 2015 Mia Hoddell
Continue reading on Nov 16th. Not Enough is on a special pre-order price of 99c until the release!