Diary entry in the perspective of Lady Macbeth

“Diary entry in the perspective of Lady Macbeth” 12th August 1604 “When love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. [Love’s Labor’s Lost]” I felt like a little child dreaming, dreaming for the stars to sing a lullaby to soothe me and assist me in getting a peaceful dream of Cinderella or snow white. Although a part of me knew that it would never happen, a larger part of me hoped and dreamed and wished that it would happen.

What I have been waiting, for an eternity has finally come. Come in the form of a small spark. A small spark in the darkness means nothing compared to an already blazing fire. However even a tiny glorious spark is after all the foundation for a fire. The chance has finally come, the chance which Macbeth and I have been longing for every second of our lives. The chance came in the form of a letter from my one and only love, Macbeth.

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Macbeth’s usual handwriting was replaced by a neat calligraphy, something which was shocking. This made me alert and curious. My fingers impatiently ripped the cover of the envelop to shrivels. The content of the letter was also something not expected. The letter stated that the weird sisters (whatever he meant by that) announced him as the Thane of Cawdor. At first I didn’t think much of it because I had no idea what he was saying.

However as I kept reading I understood more and knew that Macbeth was not lying. It felt like he was pouring out his heart to me and being frank. I was touched by how much he trusted and depended on me. Further on reading made me realize that Macbeth had asked people about the weird sisters, and that their prophecies come true. Although I didn’t want to believe in what I was reading, it was hard.

If you’re given something which you have always been wanting and you finally get it you have to pinch yourself and tell yourself that it’s not a dream. I finally let the reality sink and greed overwhelm me. For a while I sat on the soft plush velvet cushion and breathed. I slowly let the blissful news sink in. After what seemed like an eternity I could finally think straight, if one would call it thinking straight. Although there was no doubt about the news, I had inner battles and emotions toiling on top of each other.

A rush of questions were emerging, those without answers. Should I follow my dream, help pursue my husband’s wishes, or should I be loyal to the ones who trust me and never break that trust. If I decide to support my husband and help him, it would be killing someone who trusts us even in the darkest times, the great king Duncan. However if I fail to help my husband achieve his only dream I will live with the guilt and pain the rest of my life. Either way someone gets hurt. Who would I assist? My ambitious husband who I love so much? Or the benign natured Duncan who the people love? Although I ponder about the situation in the end I still have unanswered questions.

In a matter of seconds my life has become like a scrambled puzzle, desperate to be sorted. The answer has finally come and yet there are so many questions rising. But the one question I cannot put away is Can this spark help me pursue my dreams and lead me to the future which once seemed so far away? 14th August 1604 “But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes.” I dread it. Every bit of my heart is filling with a great swirl of sadness.

I didn’t want to do it, but yet I had to convince Macbeth to kill Duncan. Yes, I finally decided to help my husband pursue his dreams. I was blinded by love, and wanted my husband to be happy. In addition to this I also wanted to experience luxuries no other woman could ever experience. Who wouldn’t want clothes of the finest material, shampoos and soaps with the sweetest fragrance, jewelry studded with gold, emeralds and rubies? However after what I have done, I don’t think it’s worth it. When Macbeth came out of Duncan’s chamber his hands filled with blood, all I could think of was “What have I done?”.

One glimpse at Macbeth’s eyes which were so vacant and empty sent chills down my spine. This was enough to get me back to my senses. He had the daggers, his hands filled with blood the color of ripe tomatoes. I told him to get out, he didn’t move. I did the only thing I could do. I took the blood filled daggers out of his hands and placed it upon my own.

I wanted to scream when my eyes made contact with the blood on his hands, but I knew that if I had to be strong for him. Instead of letting my body feel regretful I took the daggers from his hands and looked elsewhere. I forced Macbeth to our chamber my arm around his large frame. I couldn’t resist my eyes kept moving down to my hands and the daggers which held Duncan’s blood. I wanted to break down.

I wanted to hide under the soft silk covers of my bed like a child and never come out. But I couldn’t. I had to stay strong for Macbeth, by imagining that everything was perfect trying to let go of my feelings. It was hard but the more I tried the more I realized that the pain was going and my body felt numb. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I looked in the mirror and saw myself, hands intertwined with Macbeth’s.

A throne on our head’s studded with diamonds rubies and pearls, a slow smile crept through my face. 28th August 1604 “Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them” Tonight I had company in my palace. On the table sat a few dishes of splendor. The pungent odor of the roast pig which rested in the midst was one which couldn’t be missed. The candles on the long mahogany table symbolized elegance, a luminous glow coming out of them. On the large wooden chairs sat Ross, Lenox, lords and attendants.

Everything seemed pristine. Macbeth was talking to the murderers about Banquo’s death which happened earlier that evening. Although the guilt was piling up for every single person we had murdered it was like usual shut up in a box in the corner of my mind. Sometimes the contents of the box would leak but I would take the trouble to pack it up again. Today like usual was playing the role of a kind hearted hostess, pretending to be nice enough and didn’t intrude in their conversation, but listening to every word. Suddenly out of the blue Macbeth asked “Which of you have done this”.

All of us were shocked and Macbeth continued his craziness. Ross told his gentlemen to rise and had a doubt about Macbeth’s health conditions. I like usual stepped into the rescue. It seemed like I was doing that a lot, covering up for Macbeth, making the pain go away. It felt like I took the pain and darkness away from him in return to find double the amount of darkness piled inside me. I convinced those at the table that nothing was precisely wrong with Macbeth.

However by the end of it I felt tired, tired that no one was there to clasp me. 31st August 1605 “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” Macbeth had left. Without him my life was as empty as a vessel. I felt dark all the time. The obscurity seemed to be increasing within me.

The emotions I tried to remove and feel numb about started triggering once again. Guilt, rage, pain and confusion all at once. No matter how much I tried to get rid of it I couldn’t. I had no one support me, hold me and embrace me. Macbeth was always there, even as a pillar amongst the castle he was still there to hold me. Without him I had no one to share my emotions, and decided to share them with myself.

Everyday although I seem to have had a good night’s sleep and woken up, I still feel tired. The dark circles around my eyes and the wrinkles on my skin don’t help. My hands have blisters from what seems like harsh rubbing or friction. However I don’t remember putting them to work in a long time. One memory which keeps haunting me in my sleep and when I am awake is washing of the blood from the night we killed Duncan.

I am not so sure why but the other murders seem less poignant. I have no one to ask for help. Whenever my maid sees me she seems scared. The look in her eyes shows fear and pity. The craziness inside me is now so deep.

It feels like I am in a deep dark damp well. Clinging to the last stone, knowing that there is not much time left. I will fall. Note: All the quotes put above each entry are said by William Shakespeare.