There is love one is destined with, and there is love one is desirous of. And only for the few lucky ones are the two one and the same. I did not belong with them. My heart longs for someone that can never be mine, and I a mere fool bound by the laws of the perilous universe. It is but so unfair that love is unkind in its ways, It is but so unjust that I am a victim of the same. Is it so wrong to fall in love with another? Even if it means breaking the bounds of societal normality? Even if it is unthinkable, nay impossible? Even if it is forbidden by all the laws imposed upon cruelly? Nay, I shall dare to think the contrary, for I am a fool bound by the treacherous trial of unrequited love.
I cannot describe so clearly the day I first laid eyes on you as one does not remember the day he is born. And yet, I know for a certainty, that you have been by my side, a silent companion to the story of my life everyone dearly loves. “Our fates are already written,” said the pastor oh so foolish in his demise. I reject it, I challenge it, for who is God to decide upon the story I will indulge in? It was love at first sight, I say. A love unbound by the laws of moral reason. And yet, it was your tepid little hands I first fell in love with, and only then came the rest of what makes you mine.
My day starts with the thought of your arrival, and my nights end with the soft sigh of your fading memories. It is torture I say, to leave me in the dark, till the sun basks again, not knowing of your return, hoping that my fears are just that, a delusion. And then I hear your giggles, as I silently watch your fumbling fingers grace the lands of our world. You do not know me watching, you do not see me smiling, for you also indulge in my story that I am to be with the woman destined for me, my Juliet. But am I so wrong in wanting my heart’s fiery desires, and my soul’s crumbling attires? Am I so wrong to reject the destiny written for me, for Juliet and I? Am I a beastly incarnate so ignorant of the life I must lead? I see your eyes like the dozen others in my life, as they look upon the destiny I write with my Juliet oh so beautiful. And yet, the blonde beauty she is, I feel unjust to keep Juliet second on my heart’s podium, for my helm is occupied by the thoughts of you my love, the woman you are.
Like the maidens of my town who root for my ever-conquering love for Juliet, I see your giggles too, accompanying them as they stride. Like the feud of our families that kept me and Juliet apart for oh so very long, I see the distance between our holy union prolong as I am not fated to be with you, my love. It is I so cursed with love, entirely I who is to blame for this unenvious story that is mine, as the woman I love, and the woman I am destined with are both bound by the laws that dictate our world. Oh, what must I do to escape this perilous fate? Oh, what must I do to be given a story that reason to the laws? Even so, what must I do for the woman I love and the woman I am destined with are oh so different, oh so apart? Tell me, my love, what is it that I must do to acquire this forbidden love of mine, for you do not even know my heart longs for the affection you can bestow.
Oh but I feel a liar, a thief, and a disgrace to the honour I carry upon my name. For my destined, my Juliet is not the one who occupies this accursed heart of mine. It is you my love oh mine. I feel a cheat, a hoax, and a human no greater than fodder for my rooters, I have deceived them to the most. I am not the man who they thought they saw, I am not the man oh so madly in love with oh Juliet of mine. I am only one but yours, one crumbling heart. And yet my love, I do not have the blessing of love from your eyes. Oh what must I do, what must I do, this world is so cruel to me and all those I see precious. Oh what must I do, what must I do, my love you do not leave my mind at once.
Romeo, they called me so charmingly, but I am far from the person they believe me to be. Romeo, I hear the giggles in your breath as you utter the name out loud, like the maidens of the so-called land. Romeo, I hear my name trod through your fingers as you childishly gossip about the love story that is mine. Oh, what a name it is, Romeo, for am I even worthy to be holding on to that accursed name?
I am afraid my love, for if anyone learns of this foolish desire of mine, they may deem me mad. I am afraid my love, for if anyone learns of my fleeting desires for Juliet, they may band me a hypocrite. I am afraid my love, more than all, that in chasing the destiny that is written for me with grandeur, I may lose you forever. I am nothing but a scared foal, and yet the folk deems me some mighty hero in the fight for his woman.
Juliet rarely occupies my thoughts in the now, as they are filled with memories of your giggles, your smile, and your tepid hands glancing over. And yet, I will never occupy the other end of your supple palm folds, which pains my thoughts at vast.
“Romeo, oh Romeo,” called Friar out loud, as he interrupted my love letter to you.
“What is it?” I asked, hiding my ire at the man I respect.
“It is time now,” he said.
“Time?” I asked. “For what is it that requires you to be so frivolous, my Friar? You seem positively asphyxiated,” I noted. He had just come to me running as if the entire land was set upon blaze. “I ask again, Friar. What is it that I must so gravely attend to?”
Friar took breaths so loud that the birds who hummed their love to me flew away in a melodious departure. “Friar, I must know what is of so urgency, now!”
“Ju– Juliet is here!” he cried.
The pen in my hand fell at once. “Juliet?” I asked astonished. “How ever did she escape the castle walls?”
“You may thank yours truly for that my friend,” Friar replied with a jowl of a smile. “One day, I believe you may repay me in kindness for my troubles, you boy so madly in love,” he jested.
“Oh,” I let out a moan.
“What is it, Romeo?” Friar asked. “I believed you to hasten at once on hearing the notice. But you sit here with such a terrible complexion, it makes me wonder,”
“Oh, it is nothing, my friend,” I jested. “It was but mere misbelief,” I added. “My Juliet is here, she is here! I could not believe it at once. Oh, I thought it was a jest you cruelly put upon me. Take me to her Friar. At once, I must meet the woman of my destiny,” I commanded.
Friar pulled my arms in such an utter urgency that he could not comprehend the lie I just whispered in his face. And there she was, standing beneath the lone green tree, beside a white-maned horse, robed in hyacinth blue coat, my Juliet. Her smile widened the supple lips of hers, and her golden locks flew at the sight of this horrid face of mine.
“Romeo,” she called ever so kindly.
“Juliet,” I greeted her with much less than she deserves to meet. “Oh it gives me great pleasure that you are here, my love,” I said. “It is marvelous, a rainbow amidst the grueling desert I say,” to which Juliet embraced my chest with a smile oh so beautiful of hers.
It did not give me pleasure, for I am as little a man there could be. It did not give me pleasure for I am a hypocrite to the woman who loves me. It did not give me pleasure for you wished the same for me. So it must be, my love, that our union is so ungratefully forbidden.
I must conclude this passage of mine, for I see you are about to renew this journey of yours. It is only but a shame I can say, for I am merely an image from our dear friend William’s temple. And you, my love, a reader of his artwork that is me. It is only but a shame that I am bound by the pages he has written me into, and you are bound by the reality you are trapped in, I say. It is only a shame that you are merely a commuter in my tale with Juliet, oh it pains me to even say so, my love.
Oh, you are turning the page over, I think every time I see your fingers open up the heavens above my head. It is time, I say to myself with nothing but despair in my thoughts. You wish for me to be with Juliet, just as William wrote my destiny for me. I curse him, for creating me, for trapping me, for making me human, for I have fallen in love with someone who can never be mine. I wish in the mornings, and I pray in the nights of what could have been, of what should have been. But it is mere futility, my prayers. Oh, my dear, I love you so very much, but you are real, and I am not.
