Free The Record of My Heart (Words #3.5) by Georgina Guthrie Page A

today, reading a book of love letters Patty gave me, I saw over and over again, this same tendency to self-examination. Gustave Flaubert flagellated himself daily for his manic self-analysis, but it’s the words of John Keats that I always return to. I can almost hear myself in his words…
    “My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses.” (1820)
    See what I mean? What great company my discontented and restless mind is in! I can’t thank my grandmother enough for giving me this book. It’s becoming my bible. Any thought or feeling I doubt or call into question is validated tenfold in the pages of this book, by history’s greatest thinkers, no less!
    I open my eyes every day, tortured by thoughts of you and counting the minutes until I’ll see you again, scoffing at my obsessive thoughts, but what do you know?—even Napoleon, the great military and political leader fell prey to the joys of amorous connection and the misery of the separation that follows. His anguished letters to Josephine litter the pages of this book:
    “I have been very dull ever since we parted. I am happy only when with you. I never cease thinking of your kisses, your tears, and your amusing little jealousies: the charms of the matchless Josephine ever keep my heart and feelings warm…I believe I have always loved you, but I think I love you a thousand times better now than ever…” (1796)
    Oh, Napoleon, you poor sod! I understand his preoccupations, Aubrey. It’s only been a little over forty-eight hours since our lips met, and I’m so, so ready to feel you in my arms again. However, I must somehow banish these ardent thoughts and put on my game face. See you on campus in an hour, my gorgeous girl. I can’t wait.
    Faithfully yours,
    ~D
    xoxoxo…

Friday, March 20
    Good morning, poppet,
    I’ve again woken up at an ungodly hour. It’s five past six, and I can’t get back to sleep. I’m positively vibrating with excitement. (Wanna rub up against me? ;)
    I’m so glad you’ve agreed to our getaway to Taboo. I confess, it was tense there for a few moments yesterday when I told you about the weekend I’ve planned. I thought you were going to refuse me. But hallelujah, you agreed, and you even accepted the gift card and went shopping at Holt’s. This is progress!
    I know I should feel trepidation about taking you away, or at least a trace of guilt, imagining what people would think of me if they knew what I was doing, but somehow I don’t. The only person’s judgment I fear is yours. You are the only critic whose words can affect me now. You told me last week you aren’t terribly familiar with Shakespeare’s sonnets. Here’s one for you which sums things up perfectly:
    Sonnet 112
    “Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamp’d upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices, that my adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides methinks are dead.”
    I need you to understand this, Aubrey. You have to know how important you are to me—that you’re “my all-the-world.” You know what? Screw it. I’m going to email you. I realize it’s yet another leap of faith, but what better way to prove my feelings for you than to entrust you with my words?
    I’ll leave this letter here. When next you hear from me, I’ll be introducing you to my