Dear Diary,
Conflict has once again arisen between the Montague family and my own. Strife has made life difficult, and a cloud of depression clings itself onto me, and I no longer feel a love for life. Though I am saddened, optimism is the only thing that holds me to life, it gives me hope, and that is all I need. Mother told me of the quarrel which began between two of our loyal servants, Sampson and Gregory, and one of Montague servants, Abraham. The squabble soon turned to battle, and my parents alongside many others drew up arms against their foes. Mother and Father say that they are doing whatever it takes to rid this town of the Montague family, but I believe we should attempt to resolve the conflict, instead of just instigating a larger battle.
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My mother has come to me with a strange request, and I regret that I can please neither she nor my father by agreeing to such a proposal. For indeed there has been a proposal, although my mother never called it such in her many words. “How stands your disposition to be married?” she asked me, a girl not yet of fourteen years who had never even considered marriage before that moment. Then she went on to inquire, “Can you love the gentleman?” I laugh at the absurdity of that statement. Does this mother of mine truly assume that I could love a man before meeting him? That I could love this Count Paris solely based on the shape of his body and the lavish clothes he wears? If that is what she thinks of me, then my mother does not know me at all. She claims that I may meet him at my father’s feast tonight; if that is the truth, then I shall give him fair consideration—if only to make an effort to please my parents—but I have no doubt that I will not see anything satisfactory.
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Cupid’s arrow has struck me, and I am now swooning over a man I have only just met. His words rang in my ears like a sweet melody from a songbird’s throat, bewildering my thoughts with awe. His words struck love, which flowed so very freely, and from forth brought a sudden kiss. Another followed, and short time flew. Nurse came forward and interrupted my gaze, she said I must speak to mother, and we left the anonymous man. He is all I have been able to think of since, and I await the time when we meet again.
Here, this is how he looked when I first laid eyes on him:
Here, this is how he looked when I first laid eyes on him:
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An abominable turn of events has occurred! This stranger who I have come to love so suddenly turns out to be none other than Romeo, the only son of the house of my enemy, and a Montague. This awful twist is laced so deeply with irony that my head is spinning; my only love sprung from my only hate! Whatever should I do? I could not honestly hope to live peacefully whilst in love with an enemy, but surely, this wretched rivalry cannot hope to force me away from these wondrous feelings stirring in my chest? I am being called away; I must sleep on the matter. I am hopeful that my path will be clear with the dawn of the morrow.
Sincerely,
Juliet
Sincerely,
Juliet
