1. Mandella Effect and Shakespeare
Oh! Um, hi there. You startled me. I was just … I mean I was expecting you but not so soon. I thought I had a little more time to prepare …
What? Oh, nothing. Just a little light reading. Um, research. Um … well, yeah I was looking up some stuff before you arrived so I wouldn’t sound like I didn’t know what I was talking about for this English class project.
Gosh, the librarian looks mad. I thought I was talking softly enough but I guess I’ll have to whisper to stop her from going nuclear.
What? No, it’s definitely nuclear, not nucular.
No really. A lot of people think it’s not but that’s just the Mandela Effect in action.
Hmm? Oh, the Mandela Effect refers to a situation in which a large number of people believe that an event occurred or something is true when it’s really a falsehood. The term was coined by a lady called Fiona Broome in 2009 when she was at a conference talking with a bunch of other people about how she remembered the tragedy of former South African president Nelson Mandela's death in a South African prison in the 1980s. But the thing is, Nelson Mandela didn’t die in the 1980s in a prison—he passed away in 2013 at the age of 95 after suffering from a respiratory infection. But Broome was completely convinced he died in the 1980s and, when she began to talk to other people about her memories, she learned that she was not alone. Other people at that conference remembered seeing news coverage of his death as well as a speech by his widow. Like, they remembered what the widow was wearing, what she said and stuff like that. She was really shocked that such a large group of people could remember the same identical event in such detail when it never actually happened. She started researching it in more detail. She even made a website about it and all sorts of other incidents like it, and called it ‘The Mandela Effect’ in honour of that first big realisation.
What? N-no, I’m not … I’m not ‘shitting you’. There are all sorts of examples of it: like, even at this school, a huge number of students think the Berenstain Bears, this old children’s book series, is actually called the Berenstein Bears. Sometimes they look up copies in the digital catalogue and the librarian gets really, really mad because she’s sick of explaining to them that they’re spelling it wrong and them disagreeing and getting really loud.
Oh. You were one of them, huh?
There are lots of theories about why the Mandela Effect happens. I tend to think it’s Confabulation. That means your brain is filling in gaps that are missing in your memories to make more sense of them – like a DVD still being able to play even with a scratch across it damaging some of the data. It’s not lying to yourself, but rather remembering details that never happened because they make the most sense in that missing data gap. Confabulation tends to increase with age, too, which is why Mandela Effect happens more among adults than children. One of the more outlandish theories about the Mandela Effect is the idea that rather than one timeline of events, it is possible that alternate realities or universes are taking place and mixing with our timeline. In theory, this would result in groups of people having the same memories because the timeline has been altered as we shift between these different realities and they retain those memories even as the world around them changes so what they remember is no longer true. Most people dismiss that theory as nonsense because they don’t believe in alternate realities but I’m more open to the idea of different realities and universes and even the multiverse because of … of …
Oh my gosh, you must think I’m such a nerd. I’m sorry. I hang out in libraries a lot. I like learning about stuff. Science and engineering are mostly my wheelhouse but I like knowing new stuff about anything, really. And I store a lot of it up here, in my head, even though I don’t really need it and I’ll probably never need it and ohmigosh I’m babbling on and on again aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry –
Hmm? You … you don’t mind? You think it’s … cool that I know so much about so much? Well that’s … nice of you to say so, even if you’re just being polite.
Oh no, the librarian is looking this way! Quick, open one of these books on Shakespeare I already picked out for our project. That big pile right there on the table. Don’t roll your eyes, just pick one and prop it up in front of you! If we’re doing private study she can’t kick us out.
Okay, I think she’s busy reshelving now. Phew. I love libraries but that is the least friendly librarian I’ve ever met. We’d better get on with the work.
Miss Coryphée said we’re to pick some of Shakespeare’s sonnets and put our research and analysis into presentation slides on PowerPoint to present to the class. I wasn’t sure which sonnets you might like to pick so I, uh, read them all.
Yes. All of them.
Um, a hundred a fifty-four? Plus some textbooks.
No, the whole textbooks.
I, um, read pretty fast. And have an eidetic memory so … uh …
Thank you for saying that. I have some thoughts on a few of the sonnets but, honestly, I don’t mind which we do, so you can choose. I know you didn’t exactly choose to be my project partner. No one … ever does willingly, since none of my friends are in my classes with me …
Oh! That’s … very sweet of you. Mostly kids at this school seem either scared of how smart I am, think I’m just some creepy nerd or if a teacher puts us together they just want to use my brain to coast into an easy A.
Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.
Ahem. So, um, those Shakespeare sonnets? Any preferences?
What do you mean? Weren’t you in class when we started this unit?
Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea! Are you okay now?
Well that’s good. Um, it does put you at a disadvantage though, if you were only there for the class where we got put into partners and given our project texts. How much do you know about Shakespeare? At Crystal Prep we studied one of his plays every year and they were usually our winter and summer drama shows for parents. It was, uh, a pretty pretentious school, to be honest, though I never realised until I came here to Canterlot High. I like it better here but, uh, some of the coping mechanisms I learned at Crystal Prep are harder to shake off than others.
So let’s start with the basics: what do you know about Shakespeare?
Hmmm. That’s not a lot. He’s more than just ‘some guy who wrote plays and junk’, as you put it. He was a playwright and a poet, sure, but he was also a husband and a father. He was … a person. Just a regular guy who happened to live four hundred years ago. I guess it’s good we got the sonnets as our project since they tell us a lot about who Shakespeare was outside of his job as a writer and actor. We get a really good look into his thoughts and emotions through these.
Well, uh … how can I put this? Sonnets are love poems. And he wrote his to, uh … more than one person. And one of them was a guy.
Shhhh! Don’t be so loud! No, I’m not saying William Shakespeare was gay! Well … maybe I am. Or maybe he was bi. It’s not clear! Modern terms of sexuality can’t really be applied historically since the cultural contexts are so different. Plus, there are lots of different types of love. It’s possible to love someone without being in love with them. I love my friends more than anything but I’m not in love with any of them. Romance is just one form of love. There’s also platonic and familial, and even those terms can be divided into more niche varieties.
Look, I’m just saying that Shakespeare was a complicated guy, okay? There’s a lot about him we don’t know because we don’t have any records for parts of his life, or the records we do have are conflicting and don’t match each other. We do know he lived in a place called Stratford Upon Avon, that when he was 18 he had to get married super quick to a lady way older than him because he got her pregnant, that they had three kids together and that his only son tragically died when he was only eleven years old, which broke William Shakespeare’s heart so bad that he never ever visited his hometown ever again. No, not even to live with his wife and two daughters who were still alive. I mean, way to tell your kids who was your favourite, right? He was already living in London for work and he just stayed there permanently instead of going home to visit during the off-season like he did when his son was alive.
Um … to be honest I’m not sure how old he was when he moved to London. When his kids were all babies and toddlers he vanishes from the historical records completely and then reappears in them seven years later, already an established playwright and actor in London, which is the version of Shakespeare we tend to think of when we hear his name today. And when he was in London he was really, really popular but his sonnets aren’t all happy from that time, so something else was going on too in his personal life – but we don’t fully know what because all we can do is infer stuff from his personal poetry.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How people in history just get … boiled down to these simple versions of themselves that we know today? I wonder what people will think of us when we’re long gone. Will they look back on our time and boil us down to simplified versions of us too? I mean, we have a lot more records now than Shakespeare or people in his time did. Digital devices alone have made it so much easier for us to record history as it happens and store it for future generations to see. But what will they actually think of us as people? Will they only remember the good things we did? Our victories and the things we celebrate about ourselves and our world? Or will they prioritise the bad things? The problems we left behind, or the messy dramas we created, or just … wow my brain just can’t keep to a topic, can it? Sorry.
Well, that’s sweet of you to say so but I know I’m a bit scatter-brained. You don’t need to be nice about it.
I hope we do get remembered for the good stuff we do but … more than that, I hope we get remembered as people. Shakespeare and Nelson Mandela were both just … just regular guys. Outside of all their accomplishments and the theories they inspired and everything else, they were people underneath it all, just as flawed and messy and complicated as the rest of us. They had their weird coping mechanisms and habits just like we do. But all that was lost after they were gone and now, we remember them as these … historical figures who did, not who were.
Am I going to be remembered for just what I’ve done, not who I am?
I’m … I’m sorry. I … I think I might need a break. I feel awful but … sometimes when I get like this, I just need to be alone for a while. Replenish my spoons, so to speak. How about you have a look at some of the sonnets, pick a couple you like the look of and we reconvene here … shall we say Thursday at lunch? Or is that too soon?
It’s not. Great. I’ll see you then. And … again, thank you for being so understanding. I’ll see you then. Bye.
2. Sonnets and Confessions
Oh, hi! I’m so glad you made it. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Sorry, I know that sounds a bit cringe but … oh, never mind.
Sorry for leaving so abruptly last time. Sometimes my brain is my own worst enemy.
You get that too? Well, that’s gratifying to hear. Um, not that I’m glad you get anxious too! Just that I … that you … um … sh-shall we pick up where we left off last time?
Oh, thank goodness.
I know last time we went into Shakespeare’s backstory … or, well, I lectured you on it like a complete nerd. This time, I thought we could dive into the sonnets themselves since, y’know that’s what Miss Coryphée wanted us to do our presentation on.
Here it is. My well-loved copy of his complete works. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to have one too. I just made some notes in the margins that I want to show you. I wasn’t sure where you wanted to start, so I figured, hey, why not show you my favourites and go from there? I think you’ll like it; the way Shakespeare plays with language is just … kind of magical, honestly. There’s something so timeless about his words. Doesn’t matter if it’s the 1600s or the 2020s, the things he writes about are pretty timeless.
Ah, here it is: Sonnet 18. You might actually have heard it before. It gets used in movies and TV shows sometimes. The “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” one. There’s a reason it’s so famous. Shakespeare isn’t just complimenting someone’s beauty here; he’s preserving it through his poetry. Immortalising it. Isn’t that romantic? Ahem.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date…"
It’s fascinating how he lays out the fleeting nature of summer with the enduring power of poetry. The idea that words can outlast even the brightest, most beautiful moments is just so … profound. Don’t you think? Or, at least … I think so.
Um, so, let’s break this down. Shakespeare starts by asking a rhetorical question: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" It’s like saying, “Are you as wonderful as the perfect summer day?” But then, he answers his own question almost immediately: no, you're not like a summer's day, you’re even better!
The next line, "Thou art more lovely and more temperate," really hammers that point home. Summer can be unpredictable - too hot, too stormy, etc - but the person Shakespeare’s addressing is steady and temperate. It’s like he’s saying, “You’re the perfect balance, without any of the extremes that make summer imperfect.”
"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date." Okay, so here’s where he points out summer’s flaws. Even the most beautiful parts of it, like May’s blooming flowers, are vulnerable to rough winds. And ‘summer’s lease’? That just means summer doesn’t last forever. It has an expiration date, no matter how much we might want it to stay.
But that’s the genius of Shakespeare. He’s not just talking about weather, is he? He’s talking about how everything beautiful is temporary. Summer ends. Flowers wilt. And time, no matter how much we’d like to fight it, takes its toll on everything. What’s fascinating, though, is what he’s saying underneath all that. Shakespeare’s pointing out how fragile and fleeting beauty is, but he’s also solving the problem. His solution? Poetry. Think about it: summer fades, but the person he’s writing about will stay immortal in his verse. That’s the power of words. He’s saying, “I can make you eternal, even after the world changes and seasons pass.” Isn’t that incredible?
I know poetry might seem … boring and intimidating at first. All the flowery language and old-fashioned words can feel like a barrier. But when you take it apart like this, line by line, it’s just a conversation; a way for Shakespeare to say something deeply personal and universal all at once.
What do you think? Can you see it now? How even someone from centuries ago can find a way to preserve what’s beautiful and fleeting, just by writing it down?
I’m glad. Is, um, me explaining it helpful or, um, patronising? My friends say that sometimes I can get a little patronising when I talk about something I’m passionate about. I don’t mean to be and it’s something I’m working on, I swear. I know they mean well and they’re just trying to help me fit in here at Canterlot High. It’s very different than Crystal Prep and I’m … still getting the hang of those differences, even now, after all this time.
Um, okay! Let’s try another sonnet. This one, Sonnet 130, is like the complete opposite of Sonnet 18. Instead of idealising someone, Shakespeare gets … well, really, super, uncomfortably honest. It’s supposed to be playful, though. Here, let me read a few lines:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head."
Okay, I know this one sounds harsh but it’s not actually meant to be insulting! It’s Shakespeare poking fun at the over-the-top way people describe love in poetry. You know, the whole “Her eyes sparkle like the stars, her lips are rubies, her skin is snow” thing? He’s like, “Actually, no. That’s not what real love looks like. Real love is imperfect and that’s what makes it wonderful.”
Take the first line: "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun." He’s saying her eyes aren’t blindingly bright or glowing with celestial power, they’re just eyes. Normal. Human. Mortal. Then "Coral is far more red than her lips' red." He’s being honest. Her lips aren’t unnaturally vivid or exaggerated and he’s okay with that. He’s deliberately rejecting all those unrealistic metaphors. And the next part? "If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun." Okay, yeah, that one’s a little awkward, but what he’s saying is her skin isn’t this perfect, snowy white people write about, it’s got colour, warmth, life. It’s skin that’s been lived in and shows her age and all she’s been through. And that’s beautiful, too, because he finds her beautiful not in spite of her lack of perfection, but because she’s imperfect, therefore she’s real.
"If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head." Again, it’s brutally honest but that’s a good thing! Her hair isn’t this perfect golden silk or whatever, it’s dark and a bit unruly, but instead of idealising this woman into some flawless, fake, untouchable goddess, he’s showing her as she really is and saying his love for her is better because it’s real, not some idealised impossible thing. That’s what I love about this sonnet. Shakespeare’s flipping the script. He’s saying, “I don’t love you because you fit some ridiculous, poetic standard of beauty. I love you for you.”
It’s kind of a relief, honestly. I mean, don’t we all feel like we’re supposed to measure up to impossible ideals sometimes? Like we have to be perfect in order to deserve love? But here’s Shakespeare, this literary genius, reminding us that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about authenticity, flaws and all.
The ending’s my favourite part. He writes: "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare." He’s saying, “Even though I didn’t use flowery, exaggerated language to describe her, my love for her is just as deep, just as rare, as any of those idealised relationships people write about.” Isn’t that kind of … I don’t know … comforting? Knowing that love doesn’t have to be this grand, perfect thing to be real? That just being human - flawed, messy, imperfect - is enough?
What about you? What do you think? Do you prefer the lofty, almost otherworldly romance of Sonnet 18, or the grounded, quirky charm of Sonnet 130?
You know, maybe that’s what makes Shakespeare so brilliant. His sonnets capture so many facets of human emotion: love, admiration, humour, even doubt. They’re not just words; they’re little windows into the human experience.
I was thinking … maybe we could write our own ‘modern sonnets’ as an exercise. It doesn’t have to follow all the strict rules; just something inspired by Shakespeare’s style. It could be a way to make the form a little less intimidating and, well, more relatable for you?
See, sonnets aren’t just about flowery language or showing off how clever you are with rhymes. They’re a way to explore the human experience - especially love. And not just romantic love, either. It can be love for a friend, or a family member, or even a passion or dream – it doesn’t even have to be a person, it can be a thing. Shakespeare used them to capture emotions that words sometimes struggle to contain.
Think about what we’ve read; how Sonnet 18 captures the idea of immortalising fleeting beauty so that love can last forever, or how Sonnet 130 embraces imperfection and emphasises that the ravages of time can make love more real for people. They’re so different, but both show real facets of love and connection.
So maybe, by trying to write our own, it’ll help you see how sonnets work - not just as a technical form, but as a way to express yourself.
What do you think? Want to give it a try? No pressure, of course! We can keep reading if you’d prefer. I just thought it might be a fun way to dive deeper. Honestly, any time spent exploring literature with you is time well spent. You’re an excellent listener and, I must admit, I’m enjoying today’s study session way more than last time.
Okay then! So, um, before I start, let’s go over the basics again, just so we’re on the same page. Sonnets have a very specific structure, which can seem intimidating but once you break it down, it’s not too bad.
Okay, so first, a Shakespearean sonnet has 14 lines. No more, no less. That’s the easiest part to remember. Each line is written in a rhythm called ‘iambic pentameter’. I know that sounds fancy, but it’s just a pattern of ten syllables per line, alternating between unstressed and stressed beats.
Ugh, I’m making it sound way more complicated than it is.
Like … like this: ‘da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM.*’
See? Something like: “I think I’ll write a sonnet just for you.” Yeah? That’s iambic pentameter.
Now, let’s talk about rhyme. Sonnets do rhyme; it’s not too complicated though. A Shakespearean sonnet follows a specific rhyme scheme called ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG. No, it’s not code. That just means the first and third lines rhyme with each other, the second and fourth rhyme, and so on, until the last two lines, which form a rhyming couplet, which means they rhyme with each other. Like here: “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” See how those last two lines rhyme? That’s the couplet. It’s like the punchline or conclusion of the whole poem.
The sonnet is usually divided into three quatrains – that’s three stanzas… I mean verses … groups of four lines - and the final couplet. Each quatrain explores an idea or a feeling, and the couplet ties everything together. Shakespeare was brilliant at using this structure to build up to a powerful conclusion.
So, if we were to write one, we’d just need to pick a theme or emotion to focus on; something personal or meaningful. And then we’d break it into three smaller ideas to explore in the quatrains and wrap it up with a strong couplet at the end. I know it sounds like a lot, but once you get started, it kind of flows. It’s like solving a puzzle, only instead of numbers or shapes, you’re using words and feelings.
So, um, does that makes sense? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or, if you want, I can go ahead and try writing one first. It might not be perfect, but maybe it’ll show you how the pieces fit together. I mean, it’s just a little practice, but … well, I hope it might help you see how powerful this form can be. I mean, it’s probably going to be a little clumsy. I’m no Shakespeare. But there’s someone I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, and … well, maybe this will help me understand … my own feelings better.
Let’s see … um …
"Beneath the sun, her warmth sets hearts aglow,
Her steadfast strength like roots that hold the ground.
No fleeting bloom, but orchards' truth she'll show,
With wisdom’s voice and laughter's joyous sound."
"Her hands are worn, yet gentle in their grace,
A life of toil engraved in every line.
She stands as firm as mountains in their place,
A beacon bright, unyielding and divine."
"If I could pen her spirit, wild and free,
The page would burst with light too grand for me."
I mean … I didn’t follow it completely. I missed one of the quatrains but … what do you think?
Wait … what? No, it’s … you can’t possibly … Oh no, you figured it out? I … oh gosh, I wasn’t expecting you to know who I was talking about! Gym class? You … you’re in gym class with her? That’s … so coincidental it’s almost funny. Or tragic. Or … some other emotion I’m too embarrassed to think of right now. Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry …
Oh. Well. Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to reassure me like that.
Sorry. It’s just … she’s so strong, not just physically but emotionally too. She’s like this pillar of reliability for everyone around her. And yet, she’s humble. She doesn’t boast or show off, she just is. There’s this honesty about her that’s so … grounding.
You’ve probably seen it in class, haven’t you? How she’s always cheering people on, even when she’s exhausted. Or how she jumps in to help without being asked, whether it’s lifting something heavy or covering for someone who forgot their assignment. And then there’s her smile. It’s so warm. Like, no matter what’s going wrong, it’ll be okay because she’s there. I mean, she’s not perfect; she can be stubborn, and we don’t always see eye to eye, but she’s … she’s just so …
I sound ridiculous, don’t I? I mean, I’m sitting here gushing about her when… when she probably doesn’t even think about me like that. She’d probably laugh if she knew I wrote half a sonnet about her. I just … I admire her so much. I couldn’t help but pour some of those feelings into the poem.
And now you know. Great. Wonderful. Once again, I splurged my messy emotions all over you in what was meant to be a benign, platonic study session, I’m so, so sorry.
Please … please don’t say anything to her, okay? I don’t think I could handle her finding out like this.
I mean, what if it ruins everything?
Anyway! Um, if you ever want to try writing about someone you admire, I’d love to hear it. It’s only fair and … surprisingly cathartic. Even if they’ll never read it, it’s nice to get those feelings out on paper.
Not that I’d ever show her this. That would be … mortifying. Even more mortifying than this has been already.
Oh! Sorry. I think I’m coming down with something.
You know, one of the most fascinating things about Shakespeare is how much we don’t know about him. People have been debating for centuries about whether he might have been … well, queer. I think I mentioned that last time? um … my brain is a bit scattered right now, as you can imagine. I’ve been thinking about that a lot since our last session; about how his sonnets captured these deeply personal emotions. Some of them are addressed to a ‘fair youth’ and others to a ‘dark lady’ and they’re all just … so intimate. Shakespeare poured so much of himself into his words.
It’s funny, in a way. Working on this study project with you, reading through these sonnets, it’s … it’s really made me think about my own feelings. About how poetry, even hundreds of years old, can still resonate so deeply.
I guess what I’m trying to say is … it’s helped me realise something about myself. About someone in my life. You probably guessed it already, right? You’re really insightful. All that talk about how sonnets capture love and admiration? Yeah, that … that wasn’t just academic interest. The more I read in preparation for these sessions, the more I started noticing patterns in my own thoughts.
I mean, I’ve always admired her. How could I not? But I thought that was just … normal friendship stuff. I’ve never had friends until I moved here to Canterlot High and I’m still figuring out a lot of stuff about what friendship is and how to keep friends. Then when I read Sonnet 18, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d compare her to a summer’s day. Her hair is the colour of sunlight and fresh hay, after all. And Sonnet 130? That one hit me too. It’s like, even when I think of all her flaws - how stubborn she can be, how her honesty can sometimes be too brutal, how sometimes she just charges in without thinking … I still think she’s amazing. Maybe even more because of those things. They make her … realer. Just like the woman Shakespeare was talking about.
It’s Shakespeare’s sonnets that made me realise these feelings I have aren’t just admiration or respect. They’re … deeper than that. More personal.
And then I started wondering about Shakespeare himself. He was so fearless in expressing his emotions, even when society wasn’t exactly open to that kind of thing. Some of his most passionate sonnets were written to a man, and people have been debating his sexuality for ages. It’s inspiring, really. Knowing that someone from so long ago might’ve had to navigate the same complicated feelings as we do today. It makes me feel … I don’t know … a little less alone?
His words are so tender, so full of longing. It makes you wonder whether Shakespeare was writing about his own feelings just for himself? Was it just a creative exercise or was he figuring himself out too? Either way, it’s kind of beautiful to think that his work might reflect something so personal. Sonnet 20, for example, has this line: ‘A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted, Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion.’ It’s like he’s describing someone who transcends traditional ideas of gender. And the way he writes about them … there’s so much admiration and love. It’s comforting, in a way, to think that even centuries ago, people were exploring feelings that don’t fit neatly into boxes.
I just wish I had even a fraction of his courage. Writing stuff out in a sonnet is one thing, but … actually telling someone how you feel? That’s terrifying.
Maybe that’s why Shakespeare’s words have lasted so long. They’re not just poetry; they’re pieces of him. Little glimpses into his heart. And maybe, someday, I’ll find the courage to share a piece of mine with more than just my family, too.
Figuring out that I’m bisexual … it took a while to come to terms with it. At first, I thought: “This can’t be me, I’m too logical for this to be a thing.” But feelings aren’t equations you can solve. They just … they just are. I told Shining Armor and Cadance a couple of months ago. I was so nervous but they were amazing about it. My big brother Shiny just gave me this big hug and Cadance was like “Well, love comes in all shapes and sizes, Twilight. You of all people should know that.” It was such a weight off my shoulders; their acceptance, their continued love of me. I’m working up the courage to tell my parents soon. I know they’ll be supportive - they always have been - but it’s still scary. You can never really truly predict how someone will react, you know?
Reading Shakespeare, though … it’s so dumb, but it helps. Knowing that someone as brilliant as him might have felt the same kind of feelings I do reminds me that love, in all its forms, is worth celebrating. Reading Shakespeare’s sonnets, they’re just … they’re just so full of feeling. It’s incredible how he managed to put all of those complex thoughts into words, making them feel timeless.
Making a stupid girl in the current day feel like she has something in common with a poet from the Elizabethan Era.
Emotions have always been tricky for me. As someone who loves science and, well, as someone who’s autistic, people often assume I don’t feel anything at all. Like, if I’m not showing my emotions the way they expect, then they must just not be there. But they are there. Sometimes, they’re just too big to express or I don’t know the right words to explain them. It’s hard when people don’t understand that. I end up bottling things up because I don’t want to say the wrong thing or I’m afraid they’ll misinterpret what I’m trying to share but … spending time with you, reading Shakespeare like this … it’s actually helping. A lot.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal. Um, again. But, um … thank you for listening. It’s nice to share these thoughts with someone like you. The way you just sit and listen without rushing me, without judging makes me feel … safe. Like I can take my time to sort through my thoughts and feelings. That’s not something I’ve experienced very often.
So … I was wondering. Would you like to be my friend?
I mean, I know we’ve haven’t spent a huge amount of time together, but … I just wanted to say it out loud. I don’t always get the chance to ask people directly, and … well, you strike me as someone I’d really like to have in my life.
Thank you. I think William Shakespeare would approve of this moment. He’d probably write a whole sonnet about how nice it feels to connect with someone who truly listens.
Anyway, where were we before I got struck by verbal diarrhoea? Oh, right—writing sonnets. Maybe I’ll write another one someday about how terrifying and wonderful it is to be yourself. But for now, let’s see if we can find some inspiration in Shakespeare’s words … for you.
