Diary Entry

Diary Entry One

My day began as just another ordinary day, until I received a letter from Macbeth. He has learned of his prophecy that in addition to fulfilling the role of Glaims, he will assume the roles of both Thane of Cawdor and King. At the discovery of this news, excitement sucked every ounce of weight from my body until I nearly floated away. I have an intense aspiration to make this prophecy come true that I am unable to resist. Duncan must be killed, however my husband likely is unwilling to take any action. He is full of the milk of human kindness, making him incapable of taking the quickest path. Each time Macbeth speaks of Duncan, a look of admiration spreads until it is plastered over his entire face. I intend to convince him that it would be most advantageous to eliminate Duncan. Glaims and Cawdor both are esteemed positions, but the notion of being King and Queen sends waves of satisfaction and anticipation up and down my bones. This opportunity is unlike any other and will be my foremost focus in life, occupying my thoughts every second of every day. I understand that Macbeth and I require much strength to undertake this very taxing task. Macbeth is a powerful soldier with a great emotional stability that is vital in committing this deed. I must collect enough strength for us both and lend some action I have yet to take, but feeling the guilt afterwards will be far more difficult. I requested that the spirits fill me with cruelty, so I will not feel any memorise. I am confident that with their help, Macbeth and I will be able to commit this dark deed in order to make it to our bright future.

Diary Entry Two

We have completed the task. King Duncan is dead. There is no undoing the deed. Macbeth was the one to execute our plan to execute the king, as I was incapable of doing so. During Duncan’s stay here, I noticed he resembled my father. The connection that I felt to him prevented me from being able to carry out the plan myself. Macbeth just came downstairs gripping the dagger, with white knuckles and a trembling hand with blood dripping onto the ground. I ordered him to return the dagger immediately, but he did not make any noise, he was just frozen looking at his bloody hands. I took the weapon from my husband and went upstairs to place it on the sleeping guards and wiping all of Duncan’s blood on them and pointing the blame on them. When I returned my husband was still rumbling about the blood on his hands, so I told him that a little water clears us of this deed. At the moment, a knock on the door was echoing throughout the whole house. I  ushered Macbeth off to our room where we rinsed ourselves clean of any traces of blood and changed into our nightgowns. We hurriedly formulated a story that we would tell to anyone inquiring about the king. To suggest our innocence, we decided to claim that we had been soundly asleep until the knocking at the door woke us up. After agreeing to this plan, Macbeth curled into a ball on the bed, as it he were attempting to shrink so small that he would disappear. As he lies there waiting, I am writing this diary entry. A sharp pans of guilt fills my gut, not because I planned the murder, but because I inadvertently inflicted pain and suffering on my husband. I worry that I may have accomplished the opposite of my intention to improve our lives.    

Diary Entry Three

Last evening was the worst night of my life. As the meal was about to commence, Macbeth lost al his sense and began ranting and pacing about. All of our guests were there to witness his panic performance, their faces plastered with worry for his sanity. This incident has brought to light my husband’s dependence on me and the importance of my role of his wife, preventing him from doing something he will regret. Last night, I apprised our guests of the condition that plagues my husband, causing his strange and curious behaviour. When all had left, Macbeth recounted what he experienced that night. He paced back and forth and told me that he had just seen Banquo. I told him he was going crazy and he must be getting ill. I saved Macbeth when he made the mistake of revealing to everyone that he was the one who killed the servants, but it was to late. I saw their eyes widen with suspicion and was forced to faint to detract attention from him. Once again I saved the day, if it was not for me the truth would likely already have been said. My husband needs me to help him stay strong and determined. It was I, that persuaded Macbeth to seize the opportunity in front of him andthe kill of King Duncan. He would of not been able to complete and uphold the plan if it was not for my support. A large part of me regrets Duncan’s murder, but allowing Macbeth to know my true feelings would cause the loss of his mental stability. Our whole plan could be wrecked in an instant if Macbeth and his big mouth opens and says something. I think to myself every night whether my mind is battling itself over whether the titles of King and queen are worth the restless worry. However, we are at the point of no return, we have already murdered the King so we must do everything in our power to become the king and queen of Scotland. I know not if my husband will return to his nature self again, he worries every second of every day someone will find out what he did. The thought of death causes me to freak out because I will not have control of Macbeth’s actions and will not survive without me. However, he recently told me that a dreadful deed will be done .

Diary Entry Four

I am composing this entry in the wee hours of the morning. All has gone astray. I now recognise that neither I, nor Macbeth, have the capability to assume the roles of king and queen. We were not equipped to go down the path we chose in life. Macbeth is collapsing under the pressure. He has succumbed to committing drastic, rash, and out of character deeds. Grappling with the emotional aspects of our actions has been a daily struggle. Each night, Macbeth’s body quakes with terror from the nightmares that afflict him and I am roused from my bed in a daze. I pace about the castle, document my emotions in my diary, and hallucinate that my maid is speaking to a doctor regarding my behaviour. When the sun rises once again, my jaw drops to the floor when I discover evidence of my nightly activities. I am unsure, however, whether the stress has plagued me or my husband more. Macbeth had previously informed me that he intended on committing a dreadful deed, yet he refused to tell me what. Of recent, I have discovered that he murdered Lady Macduff and her children while Macduff was elsewhere. Last night while sleepwalking, I wrote about my fury and discontent with this tragic murder. They were left defenceless and unprotected, and now an innocent family lays slain. I am aware that if circumstances change, I could have no one to keep me from harm and may end up in the same position as her. It saddens me to think that Macbeth could be capable of such an act. A new pit is ripped into my heart each time I think about how he is not the same man that I knew him to be. The mere sight of him rots me to the core. Despite Macbeth’s latest attempt to secure our position in society, many threats still persist. Impending doom is looming over my head. Each time I hear even the most minuscule peep, fear flows through my veins like a rushing river rapid. I cannot bear this suffering any longer. I will remove myself from this dreadful world in hopes that the following one will be better. These are the last words to ever pass from my hand to paper and I want to ensure that they are good ones. Macbeth and I were ambitious. Motivation and determination are thought to be a desirable traits, but they are our hamartias. They drove us to sacrifice our morals and behave greedily, placing us in this dire situation that is spiraling out of control. Macbeth was previously full of the milk of human kindness, but I demanded the witches give him ambition, which is my greatest regret in life. That was the source of all our problems.

Soon, however, all my problems will end.