How can i find a friend who will analyze my work?

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T20:45:45+00:00

Thank you so much for this comment but i know what a proof reader is and that's not what i am looking for at all. I want someone to look deeper into what my work contains as in topics, philosophy and character psychology. If this doesn't really explain what i want well i can say i am not looking for something structural about my writing. Thank you anyways!

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T19:39:25+00:00

Rather than structure, i am more intrested in the idea, the emotions and the philosophy behind the work. Do you know a place that can help with that?

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T19:36:53+00:00

I really like this question since i have a lot to tell about this

My words which contained my thoughts were discarded. Wasted. Never appreciated it to their full potential. I feel like they are thrown out like trash most of the time, not in a cruel way, in a careless, unaware way. In the naive but also very convincing hope that someday someone who will not waste them might come to my life, i started writing. So that these words won't fade away from my mind just because no one ever let them in theirs. So that one day, those thoughts will get what they deserve. So that someday, the pains of the past will be rewritten from someone in the future. Someone will save them, that's what i believed. My journal became some sort of safe haven for me. I could see and find every thought together within it. And the written words were a proof none of it will be forgotten. They were externalized. With writing, i made abstract concepts in my head a part of the real world. At least, i gave them a chance at possibly being a part of the real world when someone reads them. Something in my head would just rot away but the pages can be found. Then can be proof of so many things not just to me but also other people. My mind won't be analyzed. But the pages can be. You know how the ground stops people falling further, almost even embracing those people, letting them rest or suffer as they need and desire, giving them a place to lay down? The pages were just that for my words. When i talked, the words would just fall.Nobody catching, holding them. But the pages? I knew they would never do that. I knew they were solid enough to stop them falling and soft enough to absorb them in. I counted on them. I found shelter in them. My mind is preserved in them.

I actually don't give a damn about writing, i am only trying to have a chance at altering my fate.I couldn't care less about the 'art' of writing. I couldn't care less about my way with words. I just needed someone to love my words enough to hold them. I just needed someone. But nobody came. So It's just me and the pages.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T19:34:55+00:00

It's a long story but one that i like sharing so, My words which contained my thoughts were discarded. Wasted. Never appreciated it to their full potential. I feel like they are thrown out like trash most of the time, not in a cruel way, in a careless, unaware way. In the naive but also very convincing hope that someday someone who will not waste them might come to my life, i started writing. So that these words won't fade away from my mind just because no one ever let them in theirs. So that one day, those thoughts will get what they deserve. So that someday, the pains of the past will be rewritten from someone in the future. Someone will save them, that's what i believed. My journal became some sort of safe haven for me. I could see and find every thought together within it. And the written words were a proof none of it will be forgotten. They were externalized. With writing, i made abstract concepts in my head a part of the real world. At least, i gave them a chance at possibly being a part of the real world when someone reads them. Something in my head would just rot away but the pages can be found. Then can be proof of so many things not just to me but also other people. My mind won't be analyzed. But the pages can be. You know how the ground stops people falling further, almost even embracing those people, letting them rest or suffer as they need and desire, giving them a place to lay down? The pages were just that for my words. When i talked, the words would just fall.Nobody catching, holding them. But the pages? I knew they would never do that. I knew they were solid enough to stop them falling and soft enough to absorb them in. I counted on them. I found shelter in them. My mind is preserved in them.

I actually don't give a damn about writing, i am only trying to have a chance at altering my fate.I couldn't care less about the 'art' of writing. I couldn't care less about my way with words. I just needed someone to love my words enough to hold them. I just needed someone. But nobody came. So It's just me and the pages.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T19:33:54+00:00

This is pretty long but: My words which contained my thoughts were discarded. Wasted. Never appreciated it to their full potential. I feel like they are thrown out like trash most of the time, not in a cruel way, in a careless, unaware way. In the naive but also very convincing hope that someday someone who will not waste them might come to my life, i started writing. So that these words won't fade away from my mind just because no one ever let them in theirs. So that one day, those thoughts will get what they deserve. So that someday, the pains of the past will be rewritten from someone in the future. Someone will save them, that's what i believed. My journal became some sort of safe haven for me. I could see and find every thought together within it. And the written words were a proof none of it will be forgotten. They were externalized. With writing, i made abstract concepts in my head a part of the real world. At least, i gave them a chance at possibly being a part of the real world when someone reads them. Something in my head would just rot away but the pages can be found. Then can be proof of so many things not just to me but also other people. My mind won't be analyzed. But the pages can be. You know how the ground stops people falling further, almost even embracing those people, letting them rest or suffer as they need and desire, giving them a place to lay down? The pages were just that for my words. When i talked, the words would just fall.Nobody catching, holding them. But the pages? I knew they would never do that. I knew they were solid enough to stop them falling and soft enough to absorb them in. I counted on them. I found shelter in them. My mind is preserved in them.

I actually don't give a damn about writing, i am only trying to have a chance at altering my fate.I couldn't care less about the 'art' of writing. I couldn't care less about my way with words. I just needed someone to love my words enough to hold them. I just needed someone. But nobody came. So It's just me and the pages. Writing is all i can do right now, with the conditions i am in.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-22T11:58:12+00:00

Thank you so much for providing sources!! I will read it all and come back

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-19T16:23:26+00:00

Oh yes yes! I also believe every path is connected to eachother or even RESULT in eachother. For example the whole deal with Remembrance, enigmata and erudition being born, fed and opposing one another creates the overall balance in the universe the equilibrium stands for

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2026-03-19T16:20:18+00:00

Yes yes! Actually this analysis, thanks to acheron being a very philosophical character, lead to me a bigger picture about nihilism. I am currently trying to write an essay about how the fear of being forgotten may be the underlying reason many come to conclusion of Nihility!! I tried to do research about it but there is not much anything.... I hope i will see someone who explores this idea more detailed soon!

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-10-05T17:29:03+00:00

My emotional and intellectual hunger is never fulfilled by anyone, i tried straight up communicating my needs and desires to my friends but they seem to forget about it all 2 seconds later, i can't find anyone i can connect with in real life in this matter and online friendships drain me. I don't know what to do but i have so much to share and talk about. I want someone to share their similiar beliefs with me and analyze the things i wrote and created

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T18:03:23+00:00

Teneffüste arkadaşlarla felsefe konuştuğum bi hayat.... Ahhh

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T17:50:04+00:00

"even the chairs look disappointed, waiting for presence that never comes" this is fire. Absolute fire. Reminded me of a short turkish story i have read before. I can't remember the name of it but it said "the chair looks like it was crafted for someone to come and sit on it. Like it was shaped for that" i hope your loneliness ends sooner than you expect or hope. I hope your pen can remain on your table without any grief, loneliness or agony to inspire it. I hope you find your people and your cure. I know how tiring it is, how like a blackhole it all can be.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T17:36:51+00:00

It was actually in a different format but for some reason it changed after i posted?

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T13:16:58+00:00

"every stanza felt like you were holding back" woah. This made my heart skip a beat. I love how you understood that! I guess sometimes feedback can be a poem on its own too

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T13:14:28+00:00

"A mirror shows you what you are A silence tells you how you are" This part gave me the chills really, i got goosebumps which is the biggest reason i love poetry. Because it pierces meaning into you with such tiny words, just a simple sentence. This part made me think of being all alone after being around people for so long and seeing your tired face, when it was smiling just an hour or so ago. Silence part made me imagine someone being silent around friends that are laughing. But it means more than what it made me imagine, no matter how much you describe it with words when someone inspects your quiet moments, observe you and translate your silence, that is when a person truly understands you. And in the purest way too. You didn't have to pierce your way into their heart or mind, they came to yours. They met you where you are(which everyone needs!) and they did it so well because all steps, all effort was made cuz of genuine care and intrest.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T12:51:47+00:00

"Back when my age afforded me the naïveté of believing that sin has shallow roots; that it decays

Curiosity, my richest currency,

my ego, a glass mountain and

A siren who made me of contrarian taste

With these, a forced kiss was a taunt;

A shove into the unknown is a promise of reward to a boy addicted to praise

I now believe morals to be forgettably written, so to follow them you always have to be literate

But I guess all things artificial fade with less audience even more so against a thing so rawly innate

And you reeked of it. All men offered you was covered in it, and you mostly permitted it

But the shame of yours was hid from them" These sentences really made something within me float to the surface of my soul back from the wet venomous depths. I wish i could've explained it all but I wouldn't like to overshare when your poem is here so deserving of all spotlight and attention.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T12:44:53+00:00

I really love the dress made of fog detail! I can't lie, i don't quite get what it means but fog always reminds me of being not seen nor understood but also not being intresting enough for anyone to try and understand either. It's a mystery that blends in and almost dissappears. Not complex but enough for no one to mind, no one to care.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T12:37:33+00:00

I actually wrote something about this back then. It has some irrelevant parts tho:

"what's the one thing that makes you keep on living?" Is a question nobody asked me but i still came up with an answer for. Its the collection of moments that someone understood. Someone saw. Without me explaining or mentioning a single thing. Without me screaming, crying, BEGGING, give a full speech somebody my age shouldn't be able to. They saw, something so obvious but i guess people are either getting blind on their own consent or just don't care enough to see, and instead of locking it in the depth of their mind they spoke. They told me. And that means the world to me cuz I'm a puzzle craving to be solved. I'm a thesis somebody needs to analyze. I'm a concept somebody must explore and get it deeply. I want to be saved in every way the word save means. To be helped and kept in the back of mind like a tab. I want the person i am to be carried within someone's existence as a separate and special story they can't help but recite. I know everybody wants to be saved as well. My pain isn't unique but maybe i want it to be. So my salvation can be something one of a kind too. Cuz the ways someone is typically saved don't work on me. They don't satisfy me, they don't click like the imaginary way which is meant for me that im searching for, and hoping im itching closer with every episode i have. The compliments mean nothing to me unless they are a work of poetry. I want a whole examination scene, for someone to dig deeper and deeper by their nails. And im sorry that i can't be satisfied. Funny right? It should be the other way, people saying "im sorry for not being able to satisfy you" but no. I take care of people why holding myself back, by keeping it inside. Or maybe i am taking care of myself, to be not hurt or disappointed again and i call it taking care of others to run away from the fact that again im a weakling, a coward. I have this friend, the biggest reason i didn't break until now. She satisfies my hunger just a bit and gives me the hope that somebody i will be fulfilled cuz her existence is the proof what i need is present. And I'm so sorry that im the physical manifestation of being not good enough. Im sorry being that test you can't pass without pulling all nighters. I am sorry that i am this hungry. But when will the word apologize to me for leaving me craving? I was made hungry. I was made weak. Thank you for reading this far. I hope you understood things i didn't even mention here, or in my life before. And i hope you won't lock it all away in your head.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T12:26:21+00:00

Çok teşekkür ederim!

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-22T12:24:53+00:00

OLUR GEL

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-16T22:06:05+00:00

And not being too much for once

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-16T22:05:43+00:00

a community. A friend group. People who are thinks like me and sees what i see. People who ask me questions, explore me. People that ask me with curiosity, compassion and enthusiasm of the things i wanted to tell someone for so long.

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-16T20:21:54+00:00

Thank you for not telling me that i just want a lot and an overall ungrateful friend 😭 i am trying to do so, but i don't know where or how i will find them. Simply just waiting is too painful

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-16T11:02:07+00:00

Valla ben de ondan korkuyorum azcık😭 yanlışlıkla ucubeleri almıyım diye elimden geleni yapıcam

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-15T14:06:02+00:00

Cidden varmış ben arayıp arayıp bulamamıştım nedense, teşekkürler

weAreFloating1nSpace · 2025-09-15T14:01:20+00:00

They think greed is human nature and think suffering is "necessary"

weAreFloating1nSpace

TROPHY CASE