I wrote this sometime this fall, in one of my moods, and I really like it, so I thought I'd post it. It's a little melodramatic, but it's all good. Oh, and just as a side note, there's not a soul on this earth that knows who unnamed person is. So don't even begin to try!

I've made a resolution of the heart. A heart-resolution is very different than that of the mind. I know, I feel, live that I must keep this resolution. So what is it? That I can never marry any soul that walks this earth save _____ ____. Am I hopelessly in love? Not so much. I can never utter his name to anyone, not even the dearest of my friends. It's impossible that ever I should marry him. So I shall be an oldmaid 'til my departure. That, in a sense, if my heart-resolution.
Wherefore, you may ask? I am too shallow to love. I'm incapable even of caring. Truly. Granted, I cared for Taylor (I assure you, he is not the sould I could marry). I cared a great deal. But only for a time. Then I cared for the idea of him. I rather would have hated him. My life is empty. I care for no one, save Jessica. And I fear not that I'm not cared for. I am and I know it truly. This is my mortal enemy. Oh, to have the ability to care in return. But alas, it shall never be. I shall go throughout my life, being cared for deeply and never caring in return. Or even worse, pretending to care.
I suppose that Lucy Maud Montgomery was some earthly form of a god. How else could she have written about me 60 years before my birth? As I have reread Emily, I realize this more and more. I am the incarnated form of Emily. I am mostly filled with her "less desirable" qualities--her stubbornness, her love for simplicity, her indecisiveness (otherwise known as fickleness, yet I shall never say that word describing myself), her "slyness" and perhaps above all, I am temperamental if ever there was such a thing. I also see bits of myself in Ilse, mostly in her rages and stubborness, but above all, I am Emily. I embrace my "Emily-ness" and wish with all my heart that I could have her passion and talent for the pen. For, if I am to "attain old-maidenhood" (as I so dearly wish she had and am still, in a way, bitterly angered that she does live happily in the end), I need something to fill my days.
- thoughts provided by Katey Orr @ 3:33 PM