Secret Invitation

Upon this being my last semester of my undergraduate degree, I received a special, somewhat secret, invitation. As I was printing off my syllabus’s for my english classes, I noticed something very odd in the words, some kind of message. I tried to decipher it, but it appeared to be a mix of old-english and a dialect from the south, but strangely, it contained a British accent. Being very intrigued, and in need for an adventure, I approached the honourable Webster and laid his dictionary over the papers. As I had hoped, the dictionary had special powers and communicated to me what the secret message of the syllabus was trying to say. It would not tell me a lot, but all it said was something about a journey that was eight weeks long and that it was going to be difficult and that I have been selected to embark on it. Bored of doing the same old things, I thought what the heck, I will go on a journey, yes I will! I decided that I can wait to watch Lorelai mess up her relationships another time, that accepting this secret invitation that has been addressed to me, revealed to my eyes through the magical power of Webster, could be a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

But, before the big eight week semester started, I knew I had many details to take care of. Following the instructions of my syllabus, I knew it would be a journey. So I took it upon myself to pack several unique outfits for different cultures, climates, and eras. I tried multiple hair styles, and I had to boost my cardio, to test my endurance. And finally, I took out a huge life insurance policy, and I was ready to go! I’m sorry I was not able to write on my journey, but I was just so busy living on a raft, drifting down the river with Huck and Jim. I had to travel over to Europe with Isabel, but then found out I was forced into slavery with Washington. I truly went mad over yellow wall-paper, and London let me freeze to death on the Yukon trail; we just couldn’t build the fire. I followed George to the Spanish-American War, but I was so confused when I walked the lonely streets with Maggie. I was empowered when I fought for civil rights with the passionate Du Bois. Then I fell madly in love with Robert Lebrun, but somehow, I plunged into the sea with Edna.

I was fascinated with Little Cuss, and Twain really let me read his Letters From The Earth. Whitman gave me flowers and took me to a baseball game, and later I wrote poems with Dickinson in private. I pleaded with Hamlet that it is better “to be”, and I helped Bolingbroke seize the throne. I had to betray the King with Hotspur, and I pondered the crown with Hal. I even found the time to invade France with Henry V, and chase after prophesies with Macbeth. I couldn’t believe Petruchio made me tame a shrew, and I had to go on trial with Antonio. And if all that wasn’t enough, I somehow got arrested with Eben and Abbie.

My sanity was at risk when I had a panic attack when Jim went missing. I got angry at Isabel Archer for rejecting Lord Warburton, I told her not to marry Gilbert. I wanted to be a showgirl with Carrie, but I cried when Hurtswood killed himself. I begged Robert not to leave, but he did anyway. I stayed up all night with Edna, I screamed at her to come back, and I wept when she never.

With the new collection of friends I met, and all the lives I got myself involved in, I did not expect them to take my heart and twist it, or throw me overboard then catch me. I couldn’t believe they shot me then healed me, or that he loved me then left me. They manipulated and tricked me, he gave me food and nice clothes, I was rich but then became poor. I had to sell myself for a quarter, and I became oppressed in my marriage. Then I reigned in a castle, but slept in the Tavern. I felt so alone but was crowded. She held my hand and he cut it off.
We finally kissed, but he really left.
No one would could here me, but everyone was listening.

I ran but got lost so I screamed then was mocked.
and
I tasted while I watched and I learned how to talk.

then
I longed how to love, while I learned to break hearts.
but
I forgot where I was, in a book, of deep shock.

photo by me

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