Dearest Diary, I can’t help but catch my mind trailing to those three witches’ prophecies. Part of me thinks that they’re predictions are completely preposterous. How could I be king of Scotland? They’re already is a king whom everyone adores. I do not know why I urge for such a position but, if I’m meant to be king fate will intervene. My love Lady Macbeth insists I start making my own fate to control my future, to acquire the position of king.
The image of me, dagger in hand becomes more and more vivid throughout the day. I constructed a plan with my wife, never intending to proceed. I hoped the more she thought about it the more insane it would sound to her fixed ears. Quite the opposite took toll: the more and more I think, the more it makes sense. Where could it go wrong? But when will this path end? If I start now, I may find myself treading in blood so deep: where my feet can’t find the floor, why my mind can’t come to terms and grasp reality.
My Dearest wife is stronger than me, no fear lives in her eyes. Only ambition exerts in her mind. Our hands of the same colour yet; her heart goes unstained. Is Duncan’s death smaller than what I make of it, or is my heart truly a transparent white ghost that touches nothing.
Duncan is now deceased and I am now ruler.
I’ve accomplished what I set to do but, I can’t rest. My past has been covered up, with the pure, white hearted mask I wear. To take control of my future I shan’t stop now. The crown I wear is heavy and lies no fruit; no seeds to hold on to the seat I rest on. Na?ve I am not, for fate, I don’t have a firm grip on. Is there no escaping the future where Banquo’s children sit where I sit? Maybe I’ll pass naturally and fate won’t be deceived as once before but, I can’t let these burdened hands kill in vain. I will try to secure my throne and, the witches will live in a different future while I create my own.
Does anyone suspect me of the true title I deserve? Traitor, murderer, not deserving of God. My mind is piercing me like it’s a dagger, the mind is a dagger. Instead of pointing the dagger forthward, I’ve directed it towards me. I’m the only one to blame for this pain. My mind is so detached from the rest of my body, i may as well be decapitated. I’ve made a huge mistake and, the blood is too thick to retreat. My heart is coal, rock stone, so stained you can’t even tell that it is a stain. I’ve made a huge mistake. I’ve been so preoccupied of surviving to avoid the clutches of hell that i’ve brought the gates of hell surrounding my castle. I may have killed my superior but, Duncan will always be above me.