Sitting in London's green park. The calmness of the place
setting over me. My back to a tree (maple, I think), I
suddenly came to the conclusion that I really don't feel
anything (or about anything) sharply. Nothing I do ever
comes directly from the heart. Now, don't get me wrong, I
love my friends (some of them very deeply), I care for and
respect my parents. But nothing really comes straight from
the heart. Nothing is sharp, as real feelings should be.
Maybe it's because I have no feelings. I've sheltered my
heart so well, that everything is so tucked inside and
closed behind locked doors so thick, that I don't even know
what to do about anything. I don't know what to study, not
where to work, even this visit to a city I've never been to
before doesn't move me much. Perhaps it's because I'm alone,
I mean, romantically. But then again, perhaps alone is the
only way I can manage to keep my sanity.
Now, as I stand on the bank-side of the Thames, next to the
new shakespear's globe theatre, I notice that I can't get
the bittersweet feeling and taste it out of my soul and my
mouth. As I jump into the river, a thought flashes through
my mind. 'Would I still be doing this if she said "yes"'.