I know this sounds geeky but…

This year, in my English class we read Macbeth. I knew that the play was about some guy who killed some other guy and couldn’t wash the blood off his hands. Little did I know. I wasn’t very exited. The previous year we didn’t read any Shakespeare because he wasn’t on the AP test. The last play I’d read before Macbeth was Othello: not my favorite literature piece, but I fought through it.

This year when my teacher told us we were going to read Macbeth, I was indifferent: just another play where everyone dies. I was expecting long speeches, blank verse, extended metaphors, etc. I wasn’t expecting to understand or appreciate Macbeth.We finished the first Act quickly. I understood it all. No need for sparknotes or pink money or whatever. For the first time, I could comprehend what the play was about.

I thought maybe I’d gotten lucky. But no, I grasped all five acts easily. Macbeth is my favorite. It became my most annotated play and my most wrinkled,

Two weeks after Macbeth, we began reading Hamlet. I thought I wasn’t going to understand it. But I did. I get it. I was so happy when I finally understood what the famous “To be or not to be” speech was all about.

We’re still not done with Hamlet, but I’m looking forward to reading the end. I know that everyone dies because someone spoiled the ending for me but I still want to know.Now I want to see through Shakespeare’s words, not through the condensed summary written by a sparknotes writer or through the simple words of a classmate.

I know it soudns geeky, but I like Shakespeare. [specially Macbeth xD]

Love is a Puzzle

Love is a puzzle, confusing and irritating at times. A wave of anticipation crashes as I open the cardboard box. Exited, I pour the little pieces on the table. I spread them out using my fingers. I turn them so that thei lie on their backs with their faces gazing at me. And yet, as they sit there, lying bare, they reveal nothing. It is all up to me to figure out.

I look for the four corners, the most important ones. They are named: Patience, Friendship, Trust, and Laughs. Then I try to connect them to each other and to the rest of the pieces. But there are too many little details. A piece may fool me into thinking it is the one I look for. But a tiny color difference or a slightly changed edge interrupts the smooth surface. The process is delicate, and if a piece is lost, then the puzzle is crippled and incomplete.

A puzzle takes time and patience to take its form. But after afternoons spent in company of the puzzle, it becomes coherent. A picture forms both in the puzzle and in my heart.

I will hang our puzzle in my living room, on top of the fireplace. That way, every winter night, when the cold wind roars outside, I will sit in front of the fireplace, looking at our puzzle and remembering your warmth.

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Response to Every Day Tells A Story. Original prompt found here.

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Tomorrow

Tomorrow I’m taking a big risk. I wasn’t sure until Sunday afternoon. I’m sorry I wasn’t bright enough to get it. At least I finally see the ligth now. I understand what happened on Sunday. I felt so bad aftwerwards. I felt so blind and dumb.

It’s my turn now. I hope it’s not too late.