Ophelia's Entry
Dear Diary,
You'll never believe what happened today. (I know, I say that a lot – but this time you'll agree.) Hamlet, my Hamlet, came to me today. Believe me, I showed shock and amazement as his sudden appearance, and he looked awful. He looked white and pale and sick; he wore his shirt unbuttoned and his pants slightly crooked.
I thought I had gotten over my feelings for him, but as I saw him standing there looking disheveled and entirely distraught, they came back twice as strong. When I went crying to my Father for comfort after this ordeal, he did everything but comfort me! My father said that I had caused Hamlet to go mad. Apparently Hamlet has pined away for my love for so long that he has come to this. All my fault. I never meant to hurt him – I only wanted to save myself.
But, I digress. I dropped my sewing when Hamlet came into my room, stood up, and began talking. "My Lord," I said in surprise, "I did not know you had come -"
Hamlet came to me and pressed his finger to my lips. He said nothing, and this silence began to frighten me, but as my lips were pressed tightly together, I could not beg or plead with him. We stood there, the two of us, as if frozen in time, looking into each other's eyes. I could not read much in his: nothing that hadn't been there months ago. Pain, love, anger, sorrow . . . all of these I saw, but then I saw something else. Still, I don't know what that look entailed, but I do know that it frightened me into speech.
As we stood there, I reached up slowly and took his hand in mine, removing it from my lips. "Hamlet," I said, my voice slightly unsteady. "Can I help you in any way?" At that, Hamlet sighed as though he wanted to die, turned, his cloak swinging about his shoulders, and strode from the room, his eyes still locked with mine. Our gazes continued until he was out of sight.
How could I have done this to him?
Hamlet's Entry
I went to visit Ophelia today. For the past few months, she has done nothing but return my letters and refuse to see me – she has, seemingly without reason, taken away any solace I might have sought from her presence. At last, I could bear it no longer: I had to see her. As I went to her house, I thought about the things I might say or do, and now I regret that I didn't think more carefully. The decision I made to conceal my sanity from her almost had me in tears; my sweet Ophelia could not know of my health.
Going into her bedroom, I saw Ophelia, as beautiful as ever. All the prepared speeches I had thought of promptly left my mind as I gazed at her beauty. She rose to speak to me, but I found that I couldn't listen; I placed my fingers over her mouth to stop her. We stood there for God only knows how long, just looking into each other's eyes. I don't know what she saw in mine, but I willed for her to see the truth. Even though I could never involve her in avenging my father's untimely end, I desperately wanted her to trust me and know that she still captivated me.
She reached up, touched my hand, and I felt her trembling, though with fear or happiness I didn't know. Her fingers grasped mine and she brought my hand away from her lips, and began to speak. "Hamlet, can I help you in any way?" she asked, her voice trembling like her hands. Oh, how I wished I could hold onto her forever and escape the cruel fate given to me.
I sighed heavily and turned, beginning to walk out of the room, but I couldn't stop looking at my beautiful Ophelia. We looked at each other until I couldn't see her any more. If only I could keep her with me; if only I could take her away and marry her; if only my father hadn't been murdered . . . then, life would be good. My heart broke as I walked away from her.
Author's Note: Hi, guys! This is the first time I've uploaded anything, and I hope I did it right. ) Please remember that I haven't actually read the entire play of Hamlet yet, but this was my version of what Ophelia describes in Act 2, Scene 1. Please be kind if you review!
Thanks! Adusiriel