My prose

Shut the fuck up you bitch-ass haters.

Stop writing

Give up, a man of your intellect would surely know when his writing sucks ass

tone down the pseud.
also,
>"I didn't have much of a choice as to which seat i took. But aside from the floor, there was probably only one location I could place myself without seeming aloof."
I didn't have a choice, but there was only one??

Two if you counted god.

>no being besides the phenomenon of your own consciousness

Nah nah nah nah
>A man of my intellect
Nah
>Without perceiving their image
Ewwww nah nah nah

>That same feeling saturated me
Hmm, I quite like this, switch to active voice and could work.

>I haven't quite yet pinpointed its location

jesus christ this is so clunky man nah nah nah nah nah ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Bruh look at this dude

OP here,
I'm 17 and just began writing, please give me advice.

If it's a satire of bad writing, sure. But if it's a mockery of someone who thinks they're smarter than they are, it might be better to have the narrator know the word, and then go into a description of the scenario on the basis of why he maintains his composure in it.

Then again, maybe it's just bad writing

>I'm 17

Alright, you caught me, I'm 17 and a half.

See you in half a year

I was told by my editor that if someone has to read a sentence more than once to understand what you're trying to say (barring intellectual or learning disability), then it's a bad sentence.

Every sentence here is a bad sentence.

This entire section should be rewritten for clarity.

Buzzing low, humming really, three distinct Zs from the outer-glassy-shell of the handy. I think he’s driving, there’s road out front with the stripes, dashes and headlights. There are fossils lying around, scraps of glossy paper, crumbs. Messes are one thing, he thought, but three distinct Zs are another, and sure enough there was a bubbly message for his reading. What am I looking for, he asked himself. Fun, he replied. I’m looking for fun. Do you want me to pick you up tonight, bubbles. Crumbs, papery gloss and the window shear, there’s air leaking through the seals and into the auto itself, and because it’s cold, and the vents quit, it’s cold. I can see my own breath, he thought, he sipped on. Fun, she can laugh, I’m thinking, but she can cry, wait, no, she can only laugh. What am I thinking, she’s here in my auto and the bubbles on my handy. Bubbles, crumby and apholstry. I’ve read a few messages in my day, trust me, but nothing like this. I’m just looking for fun.

2/2
Bodies amused him, because they are so bendy. She can dance too, a girl can do a lot of things, and it seems like they’re different, but how. Maybe girls bend, and they fit into bubbles, little blue handy bubbles, and they can smell the crumbs and see the papery gloss through the handy, and my bubbles are like the windows and they leak. Once I broke a girl, I thought she was bendier than she turned out to be, which was a real disappointment because bendiness is a wonderful thing in a girl’s life, and it’s something that I want to be a part of. Of course she was fragile, and she did bend an awful lot, but not near as much as I’d liked. You can smell crumbs. It’s not as though fractions are any less numbers than numbers, but you’re looking out the window and there’s a small building with a few standing round the intrance and it looks like they could be fun.
I’m pulling over to them but I’m not getting out under any circumstances, my handy Zs and bubbles, I’m coming, I’m looking for fun. Fun is what I’m looking for, yes. They look at you, what do you look like, do they like you or want nothing to do with you, one of them has a lighter. I think there’s something sharp between the now three of them, maybe a blade. Bubble, crumb. Glossy paper? would you like to see what papery gloss looks like up close. Hatred, Zs, is what you feel for where you live, the town, county. I can see the town and county in them, I could feel it in the blade if there’s one to be felt. But was there internet here, the tiny building, there was certainly dark, and a lighter, there might be a blade, but I’m not getting out under any circumstances. Zs, what do you want me to do while I wait? Play with yourself. Handy, there’s internet in the tiny building but we need the code if you want to connect. ‘Looking for fun?’
‘We looking.’
‘For what.’
‘Guy. Rudolph at twelve-thirty, that you?’
The tiny building swelled into a balloon house, and there were probably goofy mirrors inside that make us look topsy-turvy.
‘I’m Rudolph.’
‘You Rudolph huh, got the shit.’
‘Toss it over?’
‘Oss it.’
Crumbs, I drove away fast. I could’ve laughed if I weren’t so afraid, they are niggers.