Archive for November, 2012
It seems that this Thursday was a kind of holy day in this land dedicated to giving thanks for the things in life we are grateful to have. In a lot of ways, I have much I should be thankful for.
I am thankful for whatever it was that brought me here, for it saved my life and averted the cruel fate of many people.
I am thankful for the kind sisters who have done so much to take care of me and make me feel comfortable in this strange world.
And I am grateful for having had the chance to meet Romeo and keep him as a friend even though our love was short-lived.
And yet, there is a small part of me that wonders if these things were for the better. One of you told me that my story inspired you and countless others, but I am no longer the Juliet of that story, defined by her death. How ironic it is, for an early demise would have given Romeo and me immortality.
I am grateful for the opportunity to live and to experience so many wonderful things. And yet there is that horrible, selfish part of me that wonders if this is right.
4 Comments
My dear readers, I don’t know what to think anymore. The other day, I chanced upon a store selling books, and it turned out to be the very store where Romeo was working. How surprised I was to see him so suddenly! My heart was racing, for I had not seen him for days, but we had a very amicable conversation.
He had to step away to tend to a customer, and thinking it rude to leave without a proper goodbye, I remained for a while longer, browsing the tomes. It did not take me long to find yet another copy of that very book, my friends, and once again it was empty of writing. When Romeo returned, I asked him if the book looked the same to him. He nodded, but for a moment I saw his features darken before he abruptly started talking about other things.
That was when I remembered that several of you had directed me to a page where I could see a summary of that book’s contents. I suggested to Romeo that we look at it together, but his reaction was not one I could have expected. He told me that it did not matter in a raised voice, and I was so shocked by his shouts that I could not hold back my tears. Even as he apologized, I ran out of the store, ashamed of my emotions.
By the time I returned to the dormitory, I had finally regained control of myself. Vowing to stop being so moved by my feelings for Romeo, I found the page you readers have shown me and began to read.
Dear readers, I feel that there is little purpose in reiterating what is written there. I must be the only person in this world who did not know – did not know that my life is but part of a tragic tale of warning that has been retold in this world for centuries. That had we not been delivered here when we had, Romeo and I would become but martyrs in literature.
Days have passed, and I am still unable to sort out my thoughts and feelings. I know not what to think, nor what I want anymore. For I know in my heart that I would have made every single one of those decisions as written on that page.
2 Comments
My dear friends, I apologize profusely for neglecting you the past few days! Romeo and I, while certainly not friends, are civil to one another, and cordial at least. Whenever I see him, however, he always looks rather sad–though perhaps I am just imagining it.
But, readers, the reason why I’ve been so busy and have not posted lately is because I’ve been doing some research of my own. Since Romeo, and all of you, seem to think that we are from a different world entirely from this one, I assumed there would be no harm in attempting to do some research.. So, with the help of Margaret, I entered the college library to conduct some research, assuming that what I would be able to find would be, at best, limited.
O readers, how wrong I was! After an hour or so spent drudging through the
library, I saw something quite peculiar, and it made me quite uneasy. I thought
perhaps I should share it with you all.
I was browsing the library, and stumbled upon their classic literature section
which was, admittedly, quite grand. I can’t quite explain why, but I felt pulled to
it, as though some inner force was driving me. And, somehow, I found myself
standing in front of a section dedicated to solely one man’s work—William
Shakespeare. The name sounded vaguely familiar, as though he was a very
distant cousin. And, my readers, perhaps you shan’t believe this, but—I found a
book with my name on it. Not just mine, but Romeo’s as well! So I opened the book.
The pages were completely white. No, words, nothing–just blankness.
So, I continued to look–in the library, in bookstores, all over town. I daresay every copy of the book that I was able to get my hands on was completely blank. I am wondering if, perhaps, this is not a coincidence at all.
10 Comments