The last time my quill swept across these pages one week ago, I wrote of trivial troubles now buried deep in my memory. They seem like distant stars in the moonlit sky compared with that which distresses me today. Then I was so innocent to the world; I had never experienced the joys of a love so sweet as mine for Romeo. I was but a child whereas now, only five days later, I am a married woman, possibly on the verge of death.
Married! I can scarcely believe it myself, but it is true, true as my love for Romeo and my hatred for Paris.Oh how I hate him, I could never marry him. I would rather wed death himself! This vial lies in the palm of my hand, meek and peaceful, yet its contents have the potency of the blood of Satan himself. Once I open it, I know the liquid will spit and writhe, its colour as dark as the tomb to which it may send me.
I can no longer control my thoughts. Like the Friar’s vial, my head is close to boiling point, fuelled by my tormenting worries; this is why I feel I must inscribe my troubles upon these pages.Violent delights have violent ends; that was what the good Friar said to me. Does this signify something? Could this potion kill me? Can the Friar be trusted? If it were to take my life I would be without my Romeo forever, drifting between the stars, lonely and lost.
I do not fear death, only losing Romeo to it. Should this concoction work and I drift into a deathlike sleep what will happen when I awaken? What if the foul atmosphere inside the tomb stifles my breath and I die? Romeo will be overcome with woe. Oh, there is such horror in this!I must destroy these fears and qualms of resolution. I will be strong. I will think of my love. Oh my Romeo, so far from my side, you are banished, all alone in this world. I will strengthen my resolve by remembering past joys with Romeo.I recall our first meeting; it was love at first sight. I was hypnotised by his beauty, his lips so soft to the touch. That night on the balcony still plays vividly in my mind. The moonlight dancing across Romeo’s face, his words like music to my ears. Bright Angel he called me. Tears form in my eyes when I recall these times. The distance between us now makes me yearn for his touch. Our wedding night was so full of joy, if only I could relive it. I should never have let him leave me.Tybalt dead and Romeo banished; I remember the day well. I was so full of grief when first I heard of this tragedy. Two lost in the same day, life is not worth living I thought. That thought strikes me again today, is life worth living if I am to be forced to marry Paris? Imagine if the potion fails to fulfil the Friar’s promise and I am still awake tomorrow. I will have to wed the ghastly Paris and Romeo will never be mine again. What if this is all just a ploy to prevent me from using other means to take my life?Stifle these terrible thoughts, what reason would the Friar have to do such a thing? He is a man of God; honest and trustworthy who only wants to be of assistance to me. He helped Romeo through the toughest of times and he is doing the same for me. I now yearn to consume the Friar’s sweet medicine; thoughts of awakening in Romeo’s arms have gladdened me. I must hasten to drink it for fear that I may be seen. But before I drink I have to destroy these words, so no eyes but my own may read them. My family must not catch even the faintest glimpse of this or I do not know what may become of me. I will rip, tear, shred these pages and watch as they are carried upon the cool night breeze until they become mere specks in the moonlit sky.