Diary Entries (Major Character)

 

Romeo: June 26, 1307

 

Dear diary,

 

Why does Benvolio seek to thrust me into the arms of a new mistress every instant he gazes upon a young to-be-wife? His continues spouting about how I’ve lost sight of all the beauties in this world, the plethora of potential courtiers that surround me, the endless stream of faces and bodies which hope for me to just merely hold my eyes in their direction, none will ever match her. Yet, Benvolio will not allow my aching heart to bleed any longer, he’s always lecturing about my idiocy about falling in love with those that are promised to the gods above. What a fool I was, a hopeless romantic, saddened by the pains of rejection and the hardships of exclusion. Once more he stood before me today at midday just as he’d come shy of a bloodshed; fool, thirsting for the blood of the Capulets. His wretched rhetoric reminding only of the agony I’ve endured for the last fortnight, reluctant to step outside into the searing rays of the sun. What kind of man wishes to remind his best friend of the very affair he has been seeking to avert for the past month? Love is nothing but glorified lust, nothing more than my carnal callings rising from hiding, I’ll no longer suffer at their hands.

 

Romeo: June 26, 1307

Dear diary,

 

A young serving-man befell me on this fine day, illiterate but well mannered, he only sought for a quick reading of a scripture, a guest list at that. His loyalties must be wavering for he must have not recognized me, a sworn enemy of the Capulets, for upon his little list were the names of those to be invited to a feast, and now my name rests with them. Invited by a peasant to a gauge on the spoils of my enemy, invited to besides aside and enjoy wine and pork, all behind the safety of a mascarade. Benvolio thought of this to be a marvelous idea to bring forth my love for the gems of this world, what an absolute moron. What does he not comprehend about me, sorroedering love? Albeit I shall attend, not to sling on my back my lover, but to gaze upon the fine figures that shall be swaying to the sounds of music. My mind does only wonder to one vague concern, slowly but surely clawing its way towards me, what if, only if, there is someone who my eyes land upon that is more beautiful. There surely is no way that anyone can bestow upon themselves such a spell than to look more stunning than my love? Her eyes will forever glimmer in the sun’s rays until the rays from the sky become dims and light itself becomes darkness.

 

Romeo: June 26, 1307

 

Dear diary,

 

Yet another fool to befall me, Mercutio. His words kind but falling upon my deaf ears, I do not wish to look for a new love, simply just to dwell upon my dead heart. My singular hope is to keep my heart from collapsing into yet another stint of pain and suffering, no more false spells of love will enchant my mind again. There is no chance that I’m seeking to become a slave to the rules and oppression of the sickness of loves. My life just another victim of the excruciating torture befallen by the inhospitable conditions of romance. Mercutio is looking to remind me, just like Benvolio, of how beautiful the face of women are, and they could not be more right. But I do not seek to become enthralled by their wishes and stares which bring down so many other men.

There is but one thing I regret in my life, bestowing myself the honor of attending this masquerade. Why must I sign myself up for the endless waves of suffering brought my wishes to gaze upon the pretty smiles of courtiers? That peasant boy was just a damnation in disguise, hidden behind a petty piece of paper wishing only pray upon my feeble of heart whose pain is pervasive. I feel like there is no place in this world where I cannot simply escape from the depravities of love. Mercutio and Benvolio are reminders that I can simply not take the dread and pain of caring. I sought only to escape the pains, my heart aching, my soil seeping away with every day with the spoils of my lover’s gaze. Today I will walk into a feast with my biggest enemies staring down upon my face from behind a cruel mask.

 

A marvelous feast, the strings played, the angels sang, the love of my life saw my glance and approved of a kiss. I thought my last lover to be the queen of beauty, a world which had not gazed upon anything so magnificent on any other day. Oh, how wrong I was! Juliet is the love of my life, a truly stunning sight to behold. I shall marry her!

 

Romeo: June 27, 1307  

Dear diary,

 

I can’t breathe, not without her by my side. Just the mere thought of being separated from her tears my hearts to shreds. Does love even have an end? Is there any limit to the power that grips my heart on this day, I’ve been enslaved to her will and now must bend to her whin. If she out to gaze upon the moon then I must sling down and gift it to her, every breath cast will be for her, every step taken will be with her in my arms, she is my all. I will unsheath my sword upon those that stand between us, and if I most turn it upon myself to bring us together in another life, then I shall. Her love consumes me and I’ll lay down my life for her if I must.

I will exist only for her, craving only to see her smile is enough to strike out the flames of life in my own heart. My life rests upon her hands, the love a benevolent goddess is what will rule over my actions, I shall rest only at her command, her every affliction will sear a new lashing upon my back, her every desire will nurture me. How was I to be blind to the thousand suns which lay not dormant but ablaze, such that she calls eyes, are the lights which illuminate my path. Did their light not fill the night of our fair Verona? Was it for her glimmer and bloom that the night became dark, to quell the relentless lust that they cause upon me? War stirs in the depths of hell and the plains of heaven, for when did this angle become amiss between us ruts of man? I wish not more than to hold upon her gentle palm and place within my heart. I lay clad in shackles and chains cast on unbeknownst to her and if freedom is being without her than it shall wither and rot as I do not wish it.

 

Romeo: June 27, 1307  

Dear diary,

 

Oh, when I stood under the window I could not but linger for mere seconds, if I were to stare for more than two seconds I would be compelled to crawl upon the wall that her balcony stood on. My life has become a desire to stand by her side and breath the scent that emanates from her, her touch that of a thousand burning suns. Her skin ablaze with light, the night’s moon glistening off her sweet cheeks as she strays under the light, oh how beautiful life is to be under her wings. I will set out to be the man she wishes me to be, to become the gentleman and husband that she has never sought but wished for.

I’ll be whatever she wishes for, I shall become that man, I’d be deaf to the sounds of protests from those of my family or those who wish to impede me. Tybalt that bastard,  his sword is by a dull edge which seeks to cut through my mail, but my blade will strike down upon his shoulder and turn a life of joy to that of viscera. He will be smitten by me, my own hand will be coated with his blood.

My gaze lays upon her curves, granted by a goddess of no remorse nor respect for a mortal. Her touches make every man quiver with her stunningness. Bow by her love that every man shall be struck

 

Romeo: June 28, 1307

Dear diary,

 

Not one more hour, not a minute, not a second, I can’t be apart from her any longer, if it must be I will meet her in the grave if I must. Her fragrance still flares in my nostrils, her sweet smell so pervasive that it’ll cling to everything it caresses. It is the scent of an angle that brings divine light upon my meager life; moreover, I see the notes of her voice float through the air as if it were music to my ears. There is naught which will satiate my hunger for her, not for flesh, just for her presence by my side will be enough to stem the ever-growing tide of lust. Juliet, even if she does not speak, if she doesn’t even recognize my existence, even if she strikes at my heart with a dagger, the fact that she stands before me will always be enough.

The Friar has set it forth his desire to aid my quest, I will for every instance await his words to bring me forth before the altar.  If it were not for his help I would crumble before her knees and bring down the knife upon my own chest. I will see the day that we stand hand in hand before the pitchforks and torches as our families clash, a name means nothing, her hands in mine and mine in hers. We will hold each other and wither before time, there will be no force or power that will move us from each other. Not hatred, nor death, not time, not god will drag us apart from one another.

 

Romeo: June 28, 1307

Dear diary,

One more godless night without her to quench my thirst for her words, to bring about an end to the endless waiting. A level of patience only mirrored by the gods, an insatiable thirst to end this waiting and to take her in my arms. But now I’m banished, to be stored away in an endless route roaming around the walls of my Verona. Oh for death would come first would be a blessing from God, to be touched by the sweet prick of the Reapers scythe. To wither in the bare roads that surround my fair home. Oh, what I would wish to hear even a single word uttered by her smooth, plush lips. An angel’s promise to be brought together by her single mandate was what our marriage was. Oh both of us struck by cupids arrow, but I digress that I’ve yet to come forth to the light of the sun after hiding from the ravaged hounds which seek to smite me.

I regret naught but bring upon Tybalt’s death, his death will mark my demise and the cacophony which will be sung as I’m brought to my knees. I sought only to avenge the death of a man which has fought by my side throughout my endless struggle, yet now I found myself as guilty as good as any man. I am a simple mad-man, struck by the poison of revenge.  

 

Romeo: June 28, 1307 (Written after waking while riding to Verona.)

Dear diary,

 

I regret nothing more than the purchase of this vile potion, well had I known that I would spill some! A single flask of light-emitting fluid is what will forever end this pain which plagues my sorry soul. A single droplet fell forth upon my left index finger, by all that God is capable, why has he created such a foul broth? From the single spot that the poison befell, grew forth cascades of pain which washed over me like the unrelenting tide of waves as they crash onto razor-sharp cliffs on a stormy night. The convulsions soon began, muscles in my fingers twist and turn into shapes that should not be humanly possible, and all I could manage through stifled screams of agony was to bear witness the frenzied coiling of my own flesh. But god, nor death, were so pitiful to let me be vanquished right then, no god ever is.

The sweet scent of smoldering pig’s meat soon besieged my senses, a brief respite from the unnatural contortions of my own body even as my cries echoed, but this was yet another defiled miracle. A single gaze upon the necrotizing scraps which confirm my finger brought with it nightmares never seen before forth rose the blisters of pus; putrid and vile, the devil’s own concoction brewed within my veins. This blight deceived sorely, a sweet scent to mask the perfume of disease, such a foul stench rose from the draining blisters: fetid, revolting, noxious fumes of withering blood and flesh. Blackening skin rips and tears as my hesitant joints raise my hand to match my eyes gaze, a hoarse, choked shriek escapes my mouth as I bring myself to watch what has been done to me. A sickly, black coating of death’s touch envelopes my finger, reeking pustules rise and leak as they let loose an amalgamation of blood and pus, the flesh which once moved about with a demonic possession now merely dangles from a bone which has been withered away. At last, did heaven bring mercy down upon me, the world vanished beyond a drape of black, the Reapers dwelling at last.

 

Romeo:  June 28, 1307

Dear diary,

 

If this vile full of rot does not quench my life and desire to end it all by her side. There will be no man, no god, that will hinder my progress, not on this very day. If I must dig out her body from six feet of solid stone with my bare nails then so I shall. If fate wishes to keep alive for even one more instant when I’m by her side I will unsheath the dagger I care on my own back and I’ll strike it between my own rib, such as Caine did. I will bestow upon the world the blood that courses through my veins or my body to nurture the grounds that I will fall on, for the world will gift me an eternity with her. To be torn from this miserable plain of existence and to be united at last with her in death, and to gaze upon her gleaming eyes and to be lost in the vastness of her soul. I will be with her even if it costs me my every breath, for Juliet, not even the stars are too far away, and I will rest with her, gazing upon the midnight sky to be forever in her arms. We will lay under the sweet apple blossoms to gaze upon our home on the starry plains of heaven and we’ll be one, in mind, in body, in the soul.

I hope my father sees these words, hate dear father, is a horrible thing. It brings about the demise not only of lovers but of entire families. Look at our beloved mother, dead from heartache from your measly feud has driven me to the grave. Take great care with my siblings, for their heart may wonder and you’re nobody to stop them from adoring someone else.

 

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