Roughly one month ago, I imagine it was during the month of March, according to he Gregorian calendar, I met the man whom I considered to be the most special presence in my life, although he hurt me very much.
His name is Edward Rochester, he is a man of very little words, who doesn’t embrace the use of language as a way of communicating, but indeed prefers the interchange of looks. I met Edward at Thornfield Hall. He is my master. At first he did not even look into my direction, I thought he was not aware of my existence. I felt ignored and abandoned, generally my relationships with everybody were tightly related to work. I had nobody with whom I could share my feelings and emotions.
After months slipped away, without ever receiving even a simple glance from Mr Rochester, that became even more austere than he was when I had first met him, we began to share smiles and glances.
Every time I accidentally met Edward in the long and dark corridors of Thornfield Hall, I felt guilty of being outside my designated wing of the house. When this happened, Mrs. Fairfax usually reproached me, for having forgotten to remain in my lonely region.
I could not tolerate this terrible undeserved treatment. I was being treated as a piece of cloth, without feelings or emotions. I had to bring this to an end.
I decided to go personally to Mr. Rochester, and demand more respect since I was dedicating myself entirely to the education of his daughter.
After I approached him, he appeared petrified, disturbed and awakened. He remained silent for an indefinable amount of time and then pronounced a simple, monosyllable. Leave.
After this episode occurred, I never dared to approach him anymore.
Then, an extraordinary event happened. He approached me declaring his immense love for me, Jane Eyre.
Ours became a strong friendship; I took a long while to discover this feeling, since I had never experienced it. Time went by, and what I considered friendship and what he considered love, turned into me feeling deeply affectionate to him, and eventually I felt love. We shared intimacy, endearment, devotion and even adoration. It was the first time I had ever felt loved and cared for. I worshipped Edward Rochester.
Now, every time I see him, my heart skips a beat, and I truly know that he has been the right person to fill and take a steady place in my heart. But I do not feel the same way at present. He has torn and ripped my heart into millions of tiny little parts. I didn’t deserve such a lie. Did I do something wrong?
I discovered through Mr. Mason, that Edward was already married. The complication arose when I discovered it, which was the day of our wedding.
Although I now refuse to give him another chance, because I feel used and manoeuvred as if I were a woollen doll, I still indeed love him.
Edward, a superior, elegant and charming person desires to remain with me, a simple plebeian, until death, I do not wish to remain with a person whom has had the courage of hiding his former wife, Bertha Mason, from myself. Not only hiding her from me, but being able to hide her from my in the house I am living in and working in. I am disgusted, repelled and nauseated from Edward.
He knew I loved him, and desired him.
I have been composing pieces of poetry in the past years. I have had to release my feelings in a way, and I have found poetry.
Edward.
The moment I met you something changed.
You are my master and I am your slave,
I need your directions to survive.
You have saved me from loneliness,
But stabbed my heart.
When I will be older I will remember,
How you let my weak heart bleed.
Father. I indeed hope not to have nauseated your soul with my obsessive focus on the man I have loved, love, and will love. I am sure you understand my present situation and feeling. You should be able to understand my state. I am in unexplored land. Every move I make and every direction in which I go, takes me somewhere where I have never been. Father, I am fearful. Even if I know you are not in this world, I hope you will in some way feel that I have searched you, in someway.
I have grown up alone, and I must be able to overcome a feeling such as love. It cannot be so complex. At least, I imagine it is not minimally comparable to things I have overcome, this will be hopefully simpler.
I pray that my life will someday smile to me, and become as beautiful, clear, fine and cloudless as a June morning.
I pray that my life will someday become like a blooming rose.
I pray that my life will become joyful and filled with the true sentiment of love.
Father. Although I do not have vivid memories of your presence in my existence, I send you my love and my most sincere wishes to accomplish the life that you have desired.
Your daughter,
Jane Eyre
