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From Cheated to Cheater

Jessica Tracy

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Table of Contents

SHADOW NARRATIVE___________________________________________________________________________3

CONTENT TRANSLATION_________________________________________________________________________9

CONTENT TRANSLATION REFLECTION_____________________________________________________________10

RHETORICAL TRANSLATION_____________________________________________________________________12

RHETORICAL TRANSLATION REFLECTION___________________________________________________________13

WRITING ARTS GOALS REFLECTION_______________________________________________________________15

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Shadow NarrativeI like to think I learn from my mistakes and the mistakes of others that I've suffered for.

Until the last year, I had never been in a good relationship. I've been cheated on, verbally and physically abused, and worse. For some reason, relationships just didn't work out for me. So I knew that, no matter what, I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt my partner. I always give what I can to my friends, and I always put everyone else's needs above my own. I don't like making other people suffer the same fate I had. Apparently, though, I have a limit of niceness, and I can be easily manipulated when it start to wear off.

I was dating Jason. He was a computer science major, and I've always liked the nerdy types. He was nice enough, too, but he didn't know how to be a boyfriend. He used to tell me I was embarrassing if we passed a clown and I wanted to watch. I was too "childish." He refused to hold hands in public, or hug, for the most part. In reality, if you had looked at us, you'd never know we were more than just decent friends.

I guess for most people, that's not awful. I, however, am very emotional and kind of clingy. I can hold back, of course, but I still would like to hold hands now and then, or a rare kiss on the cheek. Simply put, I wanted to act like a couple. So whenever I did something minor that got on his nerves, he'd get upset and start complaining. So I'd tell him that he's being too distant, but I'm too clingy, and it would go in circles. Every argument started and ended the same. However, there were a few times here and there that we'd be alone in his room, just enjoying each other's company. Those moments were enough for me to stay.

The day before winter break. My parents were picking me up the next day to take me home, since I didn't have a car just yet. They were planning on getting there early, around 10am, and I wasn't going to see Jason much over break. Seeing as 10am the next day would be early, I wanted to say goodbye that night. I called him asking if he wanted to grab dinner. "Eh, maybe," he said. He was with his friends. Being used to arguing, my immediate reaction was to get upset. I told him he didn't care enough about me. We argued for a while on the phone until he agreed to see me for just a few minutes after dinner. Reluctantly, I accepted.

He finally came over at 11 that night, and he blamed me for not finishing his work. Being a master of common sense, I told him he was with his friends all night, when he could have just come to have a little alone time to say goodbye for break. He told me I was ridiculous, it was only one month. He added that he needed space. It wasn't a break or a break up, but just some time apart, because I was "too needy." I accepted, but I made it very clear that I didn't think it would fix anything.

We saw each other twice over break. Once was so he could come to my house to celebrate Christmas with my family. He didn't mind cuddling on the couch in front of my parents, which made me think I should try to forget how distant he normally was. Stupidly, I thought maybe he had changed since we spent less time together. "This is really nice," I said as he had arm around me in front of the fireplace.

"I know, I missed this," he said. That's what made me really believe things would be different. The second time was so his family and I could exchange Christmas gifts. We held hands and he even kissed my forehead in front of his parents and sister. We played video games, ate dinner, and just had an amazing night. I loved every second, and I was thrilled for this sudden change.

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Two weeks into January, we moved back in to our separate dorms. I asked to see him, but he declined, saying he needed time for his roommates. I gave him the space, even though I was upset. The next day I asked him if he was free, and he declined again, saying he'd come to me when he could. My chest throbbed when he said that, but I let it be. I waited for almost two weeks without hearing more than the occasional "Hey, how are things? I'm fine, just busy. Talk to you later." I believe it was January 29 that we finally saw each other. He invited me to his dorm, where I went to give him a big hug. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away and gave me a stern look. It was the same look I've seen a million times. "My roommates are here, and you know not to kiss me in front of them." So for the next hour and a half, I sat next to Alex, and Jason sat with Colin playing video games. I was silent.

We ended up walking to my friends' house to hang out, relax, and have some drinks. Since it was just the two of us on the walk over, we held hands. At least, until there were a few strangers that walked past. Jason quickly let go until he couldn't see them anymore. We had some forced small talk. It was weird and, again, distant. Obviously, he hadn't changed at all.

It was pretty much the same thing at my friends' house. No holding hands, no sitting close to each other, no hugs. We were playing some drinking games for an hour or two, so we were getting toasty. Jason told me he wanted to leave, so I followed him as I always did. On the walk back, I went to grab his hands while people were walking towards us. He pulled away and asked what I was doing.

"I'm trying to hold your hand, like boyfriends and girlfriends do."

"Well stop. It's embarrassing." Again, I was the embarrassment.

"How is it embarrassing," I challenged. "I just don't get it. You're not like this with our families. Why can't we just act like a couple?" The alcohol was speaking for me, but it was about time.

"Because people don't want to see that, so stop."

We argued the entire walk. Across campus, up the stairs, to the door of his room.

"Just shut up for now," he whispered. "We can pointlessly argue about this later if you really want, but I don't want you acting like this in front of my roommates."

"Oh really?!" The drinks were making me loud now. "Then fuck it, I'm done! I'm sick of you treating my like some shitty friend instead of your girlfriend!" The entire time, he was trying to get me to compose myself and not cause a scene. "You really don't care at all, do you? Your friends are more important, and I'm sick of it. What if I put Matt above you?"

Matt was a friend of mine who wanted more than just friendship, and he made it obvious, even in front of Jason. My goal was to hurt Jason as much as I could, and it seemed I had succeeded.

"You know that's different," he scolded. "I'm not doing this right now. You're drunk and now making any sense. Go home. Good night." I tried to protest, but he slammed the door in my face. I stood there for a minute, then just sat and cried. I composed myself and headed towards the lounge at the end of the hall. I didn't want to go to my dorm. I didn't want to walk backwards to my friends' house. The only person that was close-by was Matt. I saw it was 1am on my phone, but decided to text him anyway. It was worth a try.

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"Hey Matt, I know it's late, but can I come over?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he responded a few seconds later. "Let me know when you're here."

I put up my hood to avoid eye contact with anyone who might be wandering the halls. Crossed four buildings, walked down two flights, and I texted him at his door. "Here." I wiped some tears from my swollen eyes and tried to swallow away the lump in my throat to the sound of his footsteps coming toward the door.

"Oh no! What's wrong?" He took me in and hugged me. His scawny, boney arms felt awful against me, but I loved the warmth of being held.

"We had another fight. He thinks I'm an ambarrassment."

"What? Why? You're such an awesome person!" He loved adding compliments whenever possible, using his power of words to manipulate me even when I saw it coming.

"I tried holding his hand, and he said I'm too clingy." I started crying on his shoulder. "What's wrong with me?"

"Oh, hun." That word stung. A friend never calls a friend "hun." I knew it, but I let it go. "There's nothing wrong with you," he continued. "You're beautiful, and he just doesn't appreciate it." I just kept crying. "Come on, let's go sit down." He grabbed my hand and headed towards his room. He knew exactly what to do and say to get me. All I wanted was to hold Jason's hand, so Matt would simply slide his fingers between mine and call it a fair replacement. Normally, I wouldn't accept it, but I was still kind of drunk.

We sat on his bed as I just talked between sobs. "He doesn't deserve you," he'd interject now and then. "You're too good for him." "How dare he!" I kept shaking my head, trying to defend my boyfriend.

"He doesn't mean to be like that," I'd tell people. "I know he's better than that." However, this time, I started to give in after a few times. "I know," I said. "I love him, though."

"Do you," he tested. "I mean, do you really? And do you really think he loves you, too?" I looked up at him and froze, except for a tear that formed and fell. He scooted closer to me, brushing my hear behind my ear and wiping away the stray drop of water on my face. "Don't be so sad, hun." It didn't sting this time. "You're a sweetheart. You know, you can do so much better. If he really loved you, he wouldn't treat you like this."

He's right, I thought. He put his hand on my leg and smiled at me. Why do I have butterflies?

"You know," he said, getting closer, "I could treat you so much better." For a split second, I thought This is wrong, but once his hand touched my chin to lift it slowly, I stopped thinking.

I didn't think about Jason. I didn't think about how he would be heartbroken if he know I had come to Matt for comfort. He'd kill Matt for what was about to happen. I didn't think about having to tell him later. I didn't think about what I would do with Jason. I didn't think about the argument we just had, or any past aguements. I didn't think about how I felt that moment on the couch in front of the fireplace. I didn't think about how good he could be, even if it was rare.

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I didn't think about when I was cheated on. I didn't think about how depressed I was whenever I found out. How could you, I'd scream at them. How dare you?! Instead, I was the one that could, the one that dared. I was the one that wasn't thinking.

Every milimeter that our faces moved closer created a new bead of nervous sweat on my palm and forehead. I felt like I was about to have my first kiss all over again. I'd actually never had a kiss that was slow and romantic like this, like the ones in the movie. But it was just as fake as the ones we've seen played over and over. My "first kisses" always happened rather quickly, or awkwardly.

I felt something inside my body trying to pull away, but I didn't think about that, either. Instead, my body just kept moving. He closed his eyes, so I closed mine. We were still moving closer, lips puckered and waiting to meet the other pair. The darkness of my eyelids showed a flash of my first kiss with Jason.

We were at the bottom of the stairwell after we had watched a movie in my dorm. We were already cuddling, like a real couple, but we hadn't done anything more than that.

"I had a great time," he said, which made me smile.

"I did, too," I said. "We should do it again," and then he smiled, too. This, as if he wasn't even thinking, he kissed my lips and left, not even waiting for a reaction. I couldn't even walk up the stairs without doing a little dance.

As I reached the first step of my stairwell in my memory, Matt finally reached me and the memory disappeared. It was like it never happened. I kissed him back.

The kiss started getting heated, with his hand on the bak of my head, playing with my hair, when my phone vibrated. His whiskers scratched my cheek as I pulled away to check my phone.

"Sorry," I said as I reached into my pocket. "I should check this text."

It was Jason. "Can we talk?"

Yes, let's talk, I thought. Get me out of here. This isn't me. "Tomorrow," I typed instead. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Who was it," Matt asked as I put my phone on the bed next to me.

"Jason."

"So you're going to talk and let him win, aren't you?" He knew the routine as well as I did.

"No," I snapped. "I told him I'd talk tomorrow. He can wait for now." He smiled his creepy smile which, for some reason, warmed me at the time. He leaned back in. I thought about walking away. I pictured myself getting up and walking right out the door to head toward my room. Instead I met his lips halfway, again, which led to spending the entire night.

I stayed awake long after Matt had gotten off me and fallen asleep. I was turned, faced away from him, completely naked. How could I do that? I was still a bit tipsy, but I stayed up for a long while, staring at my clothes lying on the floor. I finally started thinking again. After a few more tears, I fell asleep.

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I woke up to another text from Jason at around 10. "When can we talk?" I stared blankly at my phone, groggy from the drunken tears and confusion. Slowly I started remembering everything that had happened. I was still in Matt's bed.

I got up and rushed to put my clothes back on. Matt said I shouldn't feel guilty, because it was bound to happen. I didn't even respond. I just finished getting my stuff and started pacing to my dorm. About halfway, I told him I was free and willing whenever. "Ok. Heading over now."

"Let me in?" I was just zipping my pants after a mad dash to change and clean up at least a little when I headed down the stairs to open the door for him. I couldn't even look at him. I felt like the word "cheater" was branded on my forehead. I realized we were in the same stairwell where we had our first kiss, the very one I was reminded of the night before. We climbed the stairs slower than ever. When we got to my room, I headed straight for a seat on my bed and stared directly at the floor. He stood agianst the wall, about give feed away. The room was filled with silence and regret.

"So," he finally said after what felt like an hour. "what do you want me to say?"

"Why can't you just hold my hand in public?" I very badly wanted to know what he was going to say, but I could barely hear anything over the screams in my head calling me a cheater and a liar.

"I don't like... You know me better... I'm sorry I'm like this..." It was all the same word vomit he spewed at me last time we argued, and the time before that, and the time before that. It was so repetitive. This time, though, it was different. I was a cheater. I couldn't stop reminding myself of it. So as I sat there, trying to listen, I realized there was only one thing I could do.

"Jason, just stop." I still wouldn't look at him, but I saw him through my peripherals. I watched him turn his head toward me instead of the same floor we'd both been looking to for comfort. "I'm sorry, but," I paused to look at him. I held the words in my thoat. I didn't want them to come out, but they had to. "I don't think we should do this anymore."

I wish I didn't look at him. "What do you mean?" He started to tear. It was the first time I'd seen any sort of sadness after a fight.

"I mean, look at us." Ironically, I looked away. "All we do is fight. We're two very different people, you know?" I kept hoping he'd interrupt me. "There's always something wrong. You don't like being in a relationship in public, and when it's just us, you play your games. You don't want the kind of relationship that I do." I tuned myself out as I kept going about what a terrible couple we made. I didn't believe a word of it, even though I knew it was true. I wanted to love him. I wanted him to tell me I was wrong.

"I know," he said instead.

"I think we should just be friends." Our sniffled broke the silence, but it didn't make it any less awkward. "Maybe I'm too needy," I added finally. That might have been what tipped him off.

"You cheated, didn't you?" He went from broken hearted to taking the shards of his heart and throwing them at me. I was shocked he'd think that. Rather, that he knew I snapped my head toward him, trying to look hurt and furious, rather than scared and ashamed.

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"Why the hell would you think that?!" I was offended, even though he was right. I didn't think I came off as a cheater, and I especially didn't think he'd ever think that of me. He know about my past, that I'd been cheated on. I hoped that was enough for him to ever think I'd do anything like this to hurt him.

"Your lights were off last night. They're never off." He was right; I hate the dark.

"I slept at my friends' house," I lied. They were my best friends, and we were just there the night before, so it was believable.

"Whatever. You wouldn't break up with me without a damn good reason. I know you better than that."

We continued for a while, but he was right. I'd never break up with someone for no reason. There was a "good reason," but I'd never stand up for myself like that. I kept trying to cover my tracks, trying to prove that I wouldn't cheat like I've been cheated on. I wouldn't hurt someone like I've been hurt. He finally believed me, and he still believes I never cheated. I became the very person I hated.

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Part 2Content Translation

It was another repeat,The same word vomit spewing from his lips.Another day, another fight.Another race to put the other one down first.Facing the slammed door you graciously gifted me,I had lost more than I won.

Type, send, become the vibration in his pocket."No, it's not too late, come over."Some words but mostly tearsAnd he has me in his palm."Hun," he calls me,The word stung more than his hand on my leg.

He, the "just a friend,"a smooth-talking stress reliever,and I, With tears still lingering on my cheek,A future heartbreaker,leaned in, and,Without thinking of the consequences,Or the people involved,Or where this singular moment would lead,Kissed.

It lasted but a few, long seconds,But that wouldn't be enough. Your hand moves towards my thigh,And then further still.No words, no thoughts, just movement.As we continued and had our way,I lie awake to the sound of your snoring,Your simple breathing,Staring at the wall.I lied there, waiting for sleep.Clothes on the floor,Wearing nothing but shame.

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Content Translation ReflectionFor this translation, my goal was to keep the main plot events while developing them

emotionally. I tried using the method we used in class, which was starting with a simple sentence

and expanding. I only kept this for the third stanza, though, but it worked nicely. In the first

stanza, I incorporated the back story while only truly telling the part leading up to the event

itself. I purposely repeated the word "another" to reiterate the feeling of repetition. This stanza

was about my boyfriend at the time. The last line, "I had lost more than I won," was kind of a

foreshadowing that I eventually would end the relationship entirely, but it also showed that I had

hurt him as well as myself.

The second stanza was all about the "other guy" and his transition from a friend to more

than that. I felt it was important to keep the part where he called me "hun" because it made a big

impact on me at the time. That's when I finally noticed and admitted to myself that he wanted

more than to just be my shoulder to cry on for the night.

The third stanza was the emotion leading up to the kiss. I wanted to try and get some

character development in this stanza, as well. I showed him exactly what he was, and I showed

myself simply in that moment. If I was in any other mood, this probably would have never

happened. I wanted to show that I was vulnerable at the time, and I wasn't thinking. I just acted

based on my emotions at the time. I also added that I was "a future heartbreaker," to sort of show

the contrast of me feeling hurt in the entirety of the relationship, to now me being the one to hurt

him.

I used the last stanza to show that it didn't just stop at a simple kiss, even though that was

sort of the climax of the story. The kiss itself was only a couple seconds, but I had spent the

entire night. We just kept acting on our emotions, rather than rational thought. When I was

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listening to the sound of him just breathing next to me after we had finished was kind of the

point where I realized what I did. I just stayed next to him and saw my clothes on the floor,

which alludes to my nudity-another sign of vulnerability. To make up for this, I "dressed" in

shame.

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Part 3

Rhetorical Translation

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Rhetorical Translation ReflectionI knew right away that I wanted to make a label for an appropriate object. The only truly

appropriate object I could think of was a condom. I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to

say in the label, so I decided to sort of take my own spin on it. I went more along with Matt's, the

guy I cheated with, point of view instead of mine. His goal in all of this was obvious, so I figured

I'd turn it into directions. This didn't necessarily follow the typical condom wrapper, but I

followed the rules of the genre of directions, and kept it related to the condom by making it about

having sex.

The very first line is, "Directions for 'getting lucky.' " I chose to use such a casual phrase

because I thought it embraced the idea of a one-track-mind sort of guy. To me, that phrase has a

"bro" feel to it, like something a frat guy would say to another frat guy. It took Matt a long time

to get to his position with me, so I went a little beyond the narrative in the first direction. The

second direction is where the actual story starts.

I wanted to put emphasis on everything he did, and I wanted to portray it as a sort of

guide for people to follow. I wanted to make it seem like something that happens all the time, a

trick that's common. So the steps all seem sort of informal, and show the conniving nature of the

whole process. Steps three to five show this well, telling the reader to show the girl what a good,

reliable friend he is. He has to make her trust him, like Matt did with me. I used his actual

phrases in step four and five.

Step six and seven are the only physical actions. Step six is the climax of the story-the

kiss. Again, that's the exact point where the actual shadow started. Step seven is only if she

responds, because even though the directions are for the one person, both need to be actively

involved. The girl has to respond for the rest of it to work.

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Step 8 is sort of the aftermath. Some directions include a line like, "Now enjoy!" This is

like, the celebration after finishing the directions. So for this, I put my own perspective in it,

because this was the immediate effect the shadow had on me. I tried to keep it distant

emotionally, but still show how I felt. It was important to keep the reader distant from the girl's

emotional state, as well, because that's exactly how I believe Matt felt.

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Writing Arts Goals ReflectionI definitely feel that developing a practical understanding of my writing process

was my biggest achievement of the semester. I have never been very good at drafting

and revision. I always was happy with my first draft and left it alone. However, this class

showed me a lot in terms of how revising can really improve the impact I have on my

readers. For example, we talked a lot in class about word choice and sentences. Emily

Brisse, in "The Geography of Sentences," says, "What does repitition tell us? That

something us important, certainly, but also that it connotes persistence or permanence,

the sense of inevitability." (91) I used the repetition of "I didn't think about" in my

narrative in order to show that the kiss that was about to happen was inevitable, despite

everything that should have been stopping me.

When I translated the piece into a poem, I tried to make sure the end of my lines

were either a powerful end, or a smooth transition. Each individual word had to make a

difference, especially since I had limited space for my poem. This translation, and the

rhetorical translation, made me really pay attention to the steps I take in my writing

process. I had to decide what I wanted the purpose of both of my translations to be.

Once I made that decision, I had to figure out how, which I explained in my reflections.

When I wrote my first draft, I didn't really grasp the idea of the "shadow." So

when I wrote my second draft, it was a different writing process. In that time, we were

assigned the scene extensions to the essay. So I sort of skipped a step and picked

parts that I knew were small but important moments, and expanded them right away. I

had heard other examples, as well, so I had some writing skills under my belt.

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The entire semester, we have been working on our Shadow Narratives. Until the

end of the semester, we basically had done nothing but add, edit, and slight revisions.

However, at the end of the semester, we went a step further and translated the pieces

entirely. This showed that not only does revision continue, there are tons of ways to

change a piece in order to need even more revisions.

When I wrote my original Shadow Narrative, it was another first draft piece that I

normally submitted and was proud of. When I found out it wasn't exactly what the

assignment called for, I had to change the paper entirely, and I worked with revision

during my first draft. However, right away, I made sure to go back and revise it.

Then we had to change it into a short sentence, and expand the sentence. This

made me think about what really mattered in the piece, and what I need to expand on. I

needed to get rid of minor details that just distracted from the important information, too.

When working on this final draft, I revised it some more, and I'm even happier with it

than I was before. I finally realized how effective drafts can be.

I then had to rewrite the narrative as a poem, which I have already explained in

my reflection. It was a form of revision, because it's still the same story. It's not

something brand new that I thought up. It was based off of a previous draft. The poem

itself needed some revising, as well. I went through a few drafts until I was happy with it.

Poetry isn't my strong suit, so I'll probably go back to it and edit it some more, for my

own purposes.

Until this class, I had a very limited list of genres. I knew mystery, romance, and

drama. However, this class taught me that "shopping list" is also a genre. It really made

me think a lot about how much thinking goes into all writing, even the simple things.

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Each type of writing follows a set of rules, and that's the only thing that makes it a

genre.

Revision, again, was not really an important part of my writing before this class.

Now that I know what a huge difference it makes to just draft and then revise, I will

make sure to follow the process, even if it's time consuming, every time I write

something I care about. I used to think that the best authors didn't need revision. They

edited as they typed, and then they just submitted what came out.

I believe it was in this class, although it may have been another, that we

discussed Stephen King's novel Carrie. He had actually thrown it out, until his wife had

picked it up from the trash and helped him understand his character more. This was

really inspirational for me.