Something New...
For literature class, my teacher assigned us a creative writing assignment. We are reading Great Expectations and we had to write the letter that Estella would write but never send to Pip when she's abroad studying to become a lady. And I had way too much fun writing this. Estella may be a acting really out of character, but this is how I see her. Anyway, onto the fanfiction for a novel about 150 years old:
Dear Pip,
It feels like I haven't seen you in years. Maybe I haven't. I don't know, and I don't try to remember. Miss Havisham always told me to be distant, and I try my hardest, though I do actually have a conscience. Though it is not like anyone notices. To you, I am just a pretty face that spews cruel words. But I have a heart, no matter how hard I try to hide it. I am desperate for love: my childhood was just a series of dank, dark, decrepit memories with only glimpses of the outside. Can you not understand then, why I am the way I am?
You were so young, when I felt so old and lost, floating in this bubble of suspended time, and you looked so different than anything I had ever seen before, with you thick boots and ill-fitting suit, I had to be cruel.
And now, here I am in a strange country where I don't understand anyone, and you are in London (I heard about your new-found wealth, gossip spreads quickly in the upper classes) and I can just imagine you trying your hardest to prove me wrong. That makes me oddly happy. One day, I may see you again, and I hope we, who were so different and at the extremes of the social spectrum, have changed enough to at least be friends.
Until then,
Sincerely Yours,
Estella
Dear Pip,
It feels like I haven't seen you in years. Maybe I haven't. I don't know, and I don't try to remember. Miss Havisham always told me to be distant, and I try my hardest, though I do actually have a conscience. Though it is not like anyone notices. To you, I am just a pretty face that spews cruel words. But I have a heart, no matter how hard I try to hide it. I am desperate for love: my childhood was just a series of dank, dark, decrepit memories with only glimpses of the outside. Can you not understand then, why I am the way I am?
You were so young, when I felt so old and lost, floating in this bubble of suspended time, and you looked so different than anything I had ever seen before, with you thick boots and ill-fitting suit, I had to be cruel.
And now, here I am in a strange country where I don't understand anyone, and you are in London (I heard about your new-found wealth, gossip spreads quickly in the upper classes) and I can just imagine you trying your hardest to prove me wrong. That makes me oddly happy. One day, I may see you again, and I hope we, who were so different and at the extremes of the social spectrum, have changed enough to at least be friends.
Until then,
Sincerely Yours,
Estella