Why did you change the story of my lifeI asked.
She answered: No one wants to hear a story of a broken heart. Everyone wants a great love story. I gave them what they wanted. I was furious. I ended our relationship.
*****
Truly, one of the hardest things in life is watching the person you love, love someone else. I was madly in love with Julia but she only regarded me as her best friend and nothing more.
I didnt want her friendship. I wanted her love. I wanted her body to touch my body. I wanted her lips to be on my lips. I wanted her to be the mother to my children. I wanted us to grow old in each others arm.
When she introduced me to the man she loved, my world came crashing down. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. I was no different from the Humpty Dumpty that sat on the wall and had a great fall, and no one could fix me back.
I cant totally blame Julia for breaking my heart. I never confessed my true feelings to her. I never had the guts to reveal what was in my heart. Julia was not aware that I was madly in love with her. Sometimes, love can be a difficult emotion to express.
I never showed my pain to Julia. I put on a mask and pretended to be happy for her. I had smiles on my face and tears in my heart. I reminded myself it was not in my fate to be Julias soul mate. But forgetting Julia was not easy. It is hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.
****
The first time I met Julia, both of us were hardly 12. Julia and her family were my new neighbours. Julia and I become close friends immediately. My feelings for her didnt only remain as friends. Slowly, I fell in love with Julia.
Love happens when you least expected it. I began to have dreams about us falling in love, getting married, having children and living happily ever after. But I learned the hard way that some dreams do not come true.
****
Roland. That was the name of her lover. The first time Julia and Roland met, Roland was completely naked. Julia was in her art class and Roland was a nude model.
The moment I saw her, I was in love with her, Roland said.
Unlike me, Roland was not afraid to reveal what was in his heart.
I will never fall in love with anyone that I draw nude, Julia said, cheekily.
Julia was playing hard to get and Roland never stopped pursuing Julia. In the end, Julia found his determination to be attractive and extremely sexy and love blossomed between them.
I had a hard time accepting the fact that Julia was not my lover. Pain never stopped dancing in my heart. I was told some disappointments are good for your soul. It makes you stronger. But I never wanted to be strong. I just wanted Julia to love me.
****
I had terrible nightmares where I tortured Julia to death for breaking my heart. I woke up screaming and crying. Desperate, I wanted to kill myself. But killing yourself is not easy. It takes guts to end to your life.
Sadness can drive you insane. Suffering can make you irrational. Slowly I was blaming Julia for breaking my heart, even though it was not her fault. I could not forgive Julia. I wanted revenge. I did not have a happy ending and I did not want Julia to have a happy ending, too. I wanted Julia to suffer like I had suffered.
****
Julia parents were totally captivated with Roland. They were eager to have Roland as their son-in -law. But one incident changed everything. It all began when Julia and her family went on a hunting expedition with Roland. The girls Julia, her mom and her sister Jenny were preparing lunch at their camp. The boys Roland, Julias dad and Julias brother, Justin went into the forest to hunt. A bullet went astray from Rolands gun and ended up in Justins chest. Justin was killed instantly.
*****
It is a norm for a son to bury his father. But when the situation is reversed when a father has to bury his son the pain can be unbearable. What had taken place was an accident. But Julias father held Roland responsible for his sons death. Sadness can drive you insane. Suffering can make you irrational.
You are a murderer and I do not want a murderer as my son-in- law, Julias father shouted at Roland at his sons funeral.
Julias father had quickly found a groom for Julia and was planning a grand wedding. Julia begged me: Do something to save me. Do something to save my love.
I promised Julia that I would do everything in my power to make sure her love story will have a happy ending. I assured her: I will be reading stories to your children. I will be the best uncle your children will have.
But I had no intention to make her happy. I was just waiting for the right opportunity to take my revenge and the right opportunity had landed on my lap. She broke my heart and I will break her heart. I will teach her what pain is.
*****
I was holding a bottle with a funny looking liquid.
Drink this and your heart will stop for 24 hours, I told Julia.
Your parents will believe that you are dead. The world will believe that you are dead. Your coffin will be in the church. At midnight, when no one is around, I will come get you. I will bring you to
Roland. Then both of you can run away from here and get married. Julia hugged me tight.
I will always be grateful to you, Julia said.
Everyone should have a best friend like you.
*****
My plan went smoothly. Her parents could not believe that Julia had taken her own life. I did not tell Roland that life has not left Julia. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted Roland to feel the pain of a broken heart. Sadness can drive you insane. Suffering can make you irrational.
I wanted to die where Julia is. I wanted to die where my heart is, Roland said to me.
I did not try to change his mind. I sneaked Roland into the church where Julias coffin was. I left Roland alone with her. But I did not disappear. I stood behind a pillar. I wanted to watch everything that was happening. I wanted to watch as pain danced into their lives. Roland opened her casket and planted a passionate kiss on Julias mouth. Roland whispered words of love into her ears. Without any hesitation, he took the dagger that he brought and stabbed his heart.
I wanted to watch Julia wake up from sleep and find her lover dead in front of her. I wanted her to feel the pain of a broken heart. I wanted to see her suffering. My wish came true. The moment Julia saw Rolands dead body, she became hysterical. She was shouting on the top of her voice. She was in tremendous pain. She reminded me of a wounded animal begging for mercy. Then, she did something I did not expect: she took the dagger that was on Rolands body and stabbed her heart.
I wanted to stop her. But I was too late. The dagger had gone into her heart. She was no longer breathing. I never wanted her death. I just wanted Julia to suffer like I did. I just wanted Julia to feel what
I felt.
Julia was everything to me. Without Julia, life has no meaning. I left the church. I ran towards the ocean. I threw my clothes on the sand and plunged into the cold arms of the sea, hoping to drown myself. When I opened my eyes, I thought I would see Julia again. I would beg Julia for her forgiveness. But Julia was nowhere to be seen.
And I did not die. A woman was sitting on the edge of my bed. She had saved me. She has brought me to her house.
Good morning, call me Storyteller, she said. What is your name she asked.
****
The woman who saved my life was a talented playwright. She had written countless successful plays. But she hides herself from the world. Whenever she had to meet the directors and the producers who want to use her works on stage, she would disguise herself as a man. The world really believes that she is a man and she does nothing to correct their misconception.
I am a magician who has created a perfect illusion to fool the world, she said, laughing.
I have no desire to end my magic. I have no desire to shatter my illusion. And I want to keep on fooling people.
She never revealed her true name. She preferred to be called Storyteller. She enjoys being mysterious.
I do not care if the world knows about my existence, the Storyteller said.
A writer should not be seen. A writer should be only heard.
She was eccentric. She was playful. She was shameless. And she was madly in love with me.
I have had many lovers but you are the love of my life, the storyteller said.
There was a big difference in our ages. She was twenty years older than me. But she did not care. She flirted with me shamelessly.
A woman reaches her sexual peak in her 40s and a man reaches his sexual peak peaks in his 20s, the storyteller said.
I think we make the perfect couple, dont you she asked cheekily.
I used to be in her guest room, but not anymore. I moved into the master bedroom, sharing the same bed with her.
She knew my love story. She knew about Julia. She knew about the sin I had committed. I hid nothing from her. I told her everything. She was kind to me. She did not judge me.
The Storyteller said with a huge laughter: Nobody is perfect. Everyone has their strengths and their weaknesses. And forgiveness is not your strength. Accept your weakness. Embrace your weakness. We should be celebrating our weaknesses the way we celebrate our strengths. We should not be ashamed of our weaknesses. It is our weaknesses that make us human. If we are perfect, we would be angels.
She doesnt expect me to forget Julia and made her the love of my life.
Julia was your first love and nobody forgets their first love, the Storyteller said.
She intrigued me. I was attracted to her. Slowly I was learning to love again.
****
Like any writer, she went through a dry spell. She could not find inspiration to write. She was suffering from writers block.
May be you could write my story, I said jokingly.
I did not expect her to take my suggestion seriously. Jumping with joy, the Storyteller said: That is a great idea. Your story has all the elements to make a great drama.
I was reluctant to declare my sins to the world.
Nobody will know that it is your story except you and me, the Storyteller said.
I will change the names. Just imagine the message the story of your life will give the audience out there. You will be telling the audience not to commit the same crime you have done...You will be telling the audience not to commit the same sin you have done, the Storyteller added.
I gave in to her seduction. I allowed her to tell the story of my life to the world. I said: I like the idea that the story of my life will impart a message to your audience that you should not repeat my sin.... that you should not repeat my crime. But I only have one condition. The story that you are going to tell is going to be the story of my life and I want you to promise me that you are going to tell the story of my life as honestly as possible.
Looking at me with a big smile, she said: I promise on my mothers grave.
****
She did not allow me to peek at the script when she was writing it.
You can only see the work when it is staged, the Storyteller said.
No one, not even God, sees my unfinished work, the Storyteller added.
After three months working on the script, the play was finally ready to be staged at the national theatre. I was sitting in the first row. I was excited to see the story of my life being told to the world.
I did not want real names to be used. She fulfilled my request. Julia becomes Juliet... Roland became Romeo ...and I become Friar Lawrence.
But she did not only change the names. She changed the facts in the story of my life. Her play was no longer telling the story of my life. She was telling a story about children from two feuding families who had fallen in love and faced parental objection. The forbidden love story had a tragic ending.
Roland and Julia had become leads while I had become a side character, as Romeos best friend who failed to stop the lovers from taking their own lives. My story was about broken heart, jealousy and revenge... My story was dark... These elements were missing in her play that she had titled as Romeo and Juliet. The only facts she had maintained in her play from the story of my life was the way Julia had killed herself.
Why did you change the story of my life I asked, confronting her.
I used some creative licence to make a few changes to the story of your life, the Storyteller said.
I shouted: You did not make a few changes. You changed the whole structure of the story. This is not just any story. This is my life story. This is my emotions. I trusted you with my story. I trusted you with my emotions. You betrayed me.
She felt I was being petty over the small changes she had done in her play.
The only reason I allowed you to tell my story to the world was because I do not want your audience to repeat the mistakes I have done...I do not want your audience to commit the sin I have done, I said.
It is an illusion that literature can change the world, she said with a cynical laugh.
People dont change, she emphasised.
She was not going to apologise over what she had done.
No one wants to hear a story of a broken heart, she said. They wanted a great love story. I gave them what they wanted. I was furious. I ended our relationship.
****
I vowed that I will never see her again. But I did not keep to my promise. Years later, she was sick. She was dying. She wanted to see me. She wanted my forgiveness. She wanted redemption.
Can you forgive me
That was her first sentence when she saw me.
I have forgiven you a long time ago, I answered before kissing her lips.
I moved back into her house. I looked after her. I became her pillar of strength. I became her sofa of comfort. I was her nurse. I was her lover.
One night, she gave me a manuscript. She said: What you have in your hand is the story of my life. Get it published after my death. My works are my legacy that I leaving behind. I want the world to know about me. I do not want to hide anymore. I want to end my illusion.
You are one of the greatest playwrights to walk upon this earth and I will make sure the world will not forget you, I promised her.
A week later, she died in my arms. The first thing I did after her funeral was to burn her manuscript. I had no intention of fulfilling my promise. I had no intention of making her happy. I do not want the world to hear the story of her life.
I will write another manuscript. I will write lies. I will fake everything. She had stolen the story of my life. She had changed the story of my life. I will do the same to her. I will steal the story of her life. I will change the story of her life. I will tell the world that the storyteller they had loved and admired was a man. Her name will not be mentioned in the new manuscript.
I loved her. I trusted her. But she betrayed me. She had broken my heart. She brought pain into her life. I was angry. I was furious. I want to betray her. I want to break her heart. I want to bring pain into her life. I wanted her to roll in her grave.
I came back to her not to forgive her. I came back to her because I wanted revenge. I was finding the right opportunity to carry out my revenge. And the right opportunity fell into my lap when she handed the story of her life into my hands. She should not have trusted me.
She should have known that forgiveness is not my strength......
Footnote:
This story is dedicated to William Shakespeare, one of the greatest storytellers in this century.
