28th June 1819
I know I should not write it
but… I really need to let my feelings out.
He. I have known him for ten
years but he… He still makes me sad sometimes. Lately he mentioned his previous
lovers, little romances etc. I remember it all too well. My eyes used to watch
it and I could not do anything with that. That is why it hurts. These memories
hurt. This poison can still… poison waters, pollute air. Les roses noires
de la vie (black roses of life). Unfortunately, this thorn can still
hurt your fingers… your heart. I am sad, mon cheri. But I will
not let it show. I will not tell you about it. Because I guess I love you a
little too much. So, it hurts a little too much.
Well, how did we meet? It was
many years ago. This proud peacock did not come over too fast, not right away.
Only he was going around and looking at me like a miner at gold bullion. I was
waiting whole evening just to hear his name. A little meaningless conversation.
It was enough to get to know
one another well during our first year, but other people were always around,
that is why we had to write letters to each other. In the end the time of a
great ball came. The ball was organized by my dear cousin, but I could not be
there. I had gone to Ireland. Before I left, we had had an argument. I do not recall what it was about. In the meantime,
my dear lover took advantage of that and met another lady during the ball. Did
he think it was the end for us? For me it never was.
That first… He met that harlot
when we knew each other so well. I heard that night was like the one when we
met. They met and the romance began. It looked very official. It lasted two
years. It was three for me and him.
What about me? Six months
later we met again. He looked like he missed me. He never told me about his
little mistress. Only he talked about his feelings to me. One day I heard
rumours – he became involved in another relationship. I asked him and guess
what, my dear diary? He said that it was his good friend, nobody special. So,
we continued secretly romancing. Next six months. In the end I found out what
kind of chess position it was. After two years! I was the one who you can
call l’amante secrete (a secret lover). I was the one who was his
queen, betrothed. I was the one who eventually won this war. Checkmate.
Today I heard from him that
she was his first love. Oh my God, so did he lie to me then? He did not love me
then? He did not love me earlier? Before he met that woman? That is exactly
what it means! My dear William, what about me? You had known me earlier! What
am I… a ghost? Am I… a miserable worthless fluff?
Wine! Give me wine! And open a
window! It is a bit stuffy in here…
Comments
Post a Comment