(no subject)
How is it I feel the only person in the world who would care should I die now would be Heathcliff? Am I truly so wretched? Is everything else really so false? Edgar’s weakness has proved to me how little he loved me, but Heathcliff’s strength nearly frightens me in its selfishness. It is not my wellbeing that he cares to protect, but his own through his need of me. He has no sympathy for me now that Linton is dead. I only see pitilessness in his eyes when I cry for my loss as he flaunts at me the error of my past choices. He wanted this to happen, I know he has wanted nothing more than to drag me back down to his level, for he has fought every effort that I attempted in order to raise him up to that which I had attained. If he refuses to accept what I wish to offer him, then there is nothing more I can do where his wellbeing is concerned.
I know I still could live out my days at Thrushcross Grange with Isabella in dejected isolation, but then I should be completely dependant upon her and whatever man she should marry. Or should I go back to the bleak purgatory that was Wuthering Heights as he wishes me to and resign myself to live out the remainder of my days in that world of bitterness and cruelty with my brothers? I suppose it is where I belong, for I deserve no better, but how can I accept it after having tasted Heaven so completely for half a year? They would drive me mad, I know they would, and there is no cure for madness. I want to escape-I want to be free. Hindley escaped when he was young, but he came back again and now he has wrought his own destruction. Heathcliff did as well and now he has all he could have wanted. Much of me would rather die than return to that from whence I originated, but as much as I long to, I cannot deny that it is where I do belong-I do not deserve Heaven. I do not deserve to be free of the miserable and cold anger and bitterness. Why did you leave me, Edgar? Could you have really loved me so little? Was he right all along? Were you really so shallow, hollow after all? And yet I had known it was coming, how could I not? I felt it in my very soul like a demon waiting to escape for weeks now-the deepest of my fears that could not be denied any more than I can deny that I still live despite how desperately I have wished these past blurred days that I did not.
Isabella will never listen to me now-not once she knows! I cannot bear it. I would rather die. There is nothing- Perhaps there is still a chance for me to guide her to my benefit. If I can marry her to my favor before she learns of her inheritance, I may be able to go on in the light of the Grange and all that was Linton’s as ever I had. I must find someone for her and quickly who is either weak-willed or more my friend than hers. Someone who will not mind inheriting me along with the acquisition of his wife and her fortune. If I had never come here, I would have never had such an opportunity to solve such a problem. Although if I had never come here, I would have never had such need… And if I never leave this place before I die, then none of it shall even matter.
I do not have much longer, I fear, before I will have to confess to Liza that I lied to her. I have not been dressed in days, but already last week I could not make my frock fit me without Isabella’s help. I ought to ask Miss Murray for regular assistance, for I know she would be more than willing, but I do not know if I can entirely depend upon her availability-
After having finally rested so well last night and with writing this to still the confusion that filled my mind, I am feeling more myself. Although no matter how many blankets I pile about me, I cannot be rid of this shaking chill. My hand is already almost numb from its exposure to the air as I write, and yet if I close the window I am suffocated. I cannot sleep I’ve slept too much I am not well. Is there nothing to be done for this tiring nausea? As selfish as it is to wish such a dark fate upon her, every day now I hope and long for my Ellen’s arrival. She would know what to do-for both the present and the future.
I know I still could live out my days at Thrushcross Grange with Isabella in dejected isolation, but then I should be completely dependant upon her and whatever man she should marry. Or should I go back to the bleak purgatory that was Wuthering Heights as he wishes me to and resign myself to live out the remainder of my days in that world of bitterness and cruelty with my brothers? I suppose it is where I belong, for I deserve no better, but how can I accept it after having tasted Heaven so completely for half a year? They would drive me mad, I know they would, and there is no cure for madness. I want to escape-I want to be free. Hindley escaped when he was young, but he came back again and now he has wrought his own destruction. Heathcliff did as well and now he has all he could have wanted. Much of me would rather die than return to that from whence I originated, but as much as I long to, I cannot deny that it is where I do belong-I do not deserve Heaven. I do not deserve to be free of the miserable and cold anger and bitterness. Why did you leave me, Edgar? Could you have really loved me so little? Was he right all along? Were you really so shallow, hollow after all? And yet I had known it was coming, how could I not? I felt it in my very soul like a demon waiting to escape for weeks now-the deepest of my fears that could not be denied any more than I can deny that I still live despite how desperately I have wished these past blurred days that I did not.
Isabella will never listen to me now-not once she knows! I cannot bear it. I would rather die. There is nothing- Perhaps there is still a chance for me to guide her to my benefit. If I can marry her to my favor before she learns of her inheritance, I may be able to go on in the light of the Grange and all that was Linton’s as ever I had. I must find someone for her and quickly who is either weak-willed or more my friend than hers. Someone who will not mind inheriting me along with the acquisition of his wife and her fortune. If I had never come here, I would have never had such an opportunity to solve such a problem. Although if I had never come here, I would have never had such need… And if I never leave this place before I die, then none of it shall even matter.
I do not have much longer, I fear, before I will have to confess to Liza that I lied to her. I have not been dressed in days, but already last week I could not make my frock fit me without Isabella’s help. I ought to ask Miss Murray for regular assistance, for I know she would be more than willing, but I do not know if I can entirely depend upon her availability-
After having finally rested so well last night and with writing this to still the confusion that filled my mind, I am feeling more myself. Although no matter how many blankets I pile about me, I cannot be rid of this shaking chill. My hand is already almost numb from its exposure to the air as I write, and yet if I close the window I am suffocated. I cannot sleep I’ve slept too much I am not well. Is there nothing to be done for this tiring nausea? As selfish as it is to wish such a dark fate upon her, every day now I hope and long for my Ellen’s arrival. She would know what to do-for both the present and the future.