So yeah, I’ve just been rolling around on my bed and whatnot. It is so warm in the evenings now that I can hardly sleep. During the day I keep busy, and am calm, productive, and sane. But at night it becomes so much harder to keep memories from haunting me, and destructive, masochistic fantasies from crawling through my skin like the heat. I don’t know why I torture myself by imagining painful things that might never happen – it is hard enough, surely, to cope with the things that have? Perhaps I am trying to re-write history, and create new endings in my mind. Sometimes an ending just doesn’t seem to ‘fit’ what came before, and so we keep going over it in our minds, seeing it differently every time, until we find a version that we can live with.
It got me thinking about Juliet, and how she waited, and waited, and waited on her wedding night, full of fear and apprehension. I am not really waiting for anybody, in that sense. But I think I know how she would have felt, imagining the violence that could be keeping her beloved away from her. She would have tossed and turned, and refused to eat dinner, and bitten her nails until they bled. And most of the time she would have looked like a hollowed-out version of herself, her eyes not seeing, her ears not hearing. But then in moments she would remember what night it was, and smile.