written consequences

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" My eyes left my book, the words of Shakespeare jumping off the page. The boy who said them looked almost smug; that was irking. 

"I'd be more impressed if you could recite more than just than just that." He leaned back against the park bench. 

"Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines and often is his gold complexion dimm'd." He looked into my eyes and I looked away from his.

"I'm still not impressed." Just because he knew the damn thing didn't mean that I was willing to forgive him. 

"That part is fitting for today." The heat was scalding and I had stolen one of the only benches that was covered in shade. The shade was the only relief from the blistering temperature. Summer's were indeed fragile.

These nights were short and the days stretched on forever... soon enough the summer will fade, trees will shed leaves like tears in preparation for the brutal winter.

"Yeah and everything does lose it's beauty. But what was beautiful about this you destroyed, it didn't fade." He stood when I did. He knew it was my favorite but he never showed much interest. 

"But thy eternal summer shall not..."

"Stop it." He made his decision when he blindsided me last fall. We were his summer and unlike the sonnet... our story will not live on. The sonnet is beautiful and everything that I wished I could compare life to at times. He was ruining that. 

This sonnet was love at first read, something about it pulled me in and created my love for Shakespeare, increased my love for stories and drew me into theater.

He took a dorky little theater kid with some anti-social issues and exploited her for the sake of a story. He used me to further himself and then tossed me aside. 

I should be flattered that I supposedly inspired him; I wasn't. He used my personal life and issues in his story and then made money off of it. He didn't tell me, ask me or warn me.

The story came out last fall and the only thing i felt while reading it was rage. He didn't know what it was like to have any kind of mental issues and he used me for that. He told me he loved me, he slept with me, he acted like he cared. As soon as it was published; he was gone. Moved on. 

So he better not come spewing this bullshit about how beautiful I am, comparing me to a sonnet, comparing me to the summer. He had no right. 

"I was wrong last fall. Last summer was the best summer of my life. Being with you was... and now like this sonnet, a part of you will live on for as long as someone is reading that story. I should have told you but I didn't set out to hurt you. I saw you in that library and was drawn to you."  

Drawn to my clumsy nature and awkward self? To my lack of knowledge of the real world and innocence? To my crazy? Is that what he picked up on? 

"Well you made your choice." My book was placed in my bag and unlike last fall... I was the one to walk away.

"Thou art more lovely and more temperate. The summer is just starting and i'm not giving up." He would eventually. 

But he didn't.

So I may have missed the mark but i wanted to modernize this in a different way... and i had a good time writing it!