Sunday, July 4, 1565
Nighttime
Dear Diary,
Today has been an eventful day. Whether it carries fortunate favor or misfortunate luck, I'm not sure. Let me explain. Earlier in the evening, my mother asked me how stands my disposition to be married. I wasn't too thrilled and told her it is an honor I dreamt not of. My mother told me that Paris wanted to marry me. Then my mom and my nurse told me how handsome and wonderful he is. I simply replied that I'll take a look at him if simply looking at him can make me like Paris. I don't think this is really a good or bad thing, but I don't really want to marry yet. I figure this one out later.
My good father held an old accustomed feast this evening. All the fine ladies and gentlemen of Verona were there. I danced all the dances, and even Paris offered to dance with me. I let him. Like I promised my mother, I took a look at him. He was handsome, but I didn't experience love at first sight with him. At least he was a good dancer.
Now here is the very best thing (and later the worst which I will soon tell you). A young boy around 17 took my hand and kissed it. I swore I jumped out of my skin when he touched my hand and blushed every red known to man when he kissed it. He called me a saint, and he a pilgrim who touches a shrine (me) to make himself worthy again. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I never had heard any man tell this to me. It felt wonderful! I went along with this boy angel's metaphor, and then we kissed! It was my very first kiss! Explosions of fire and ice occurred in my stomach. A heat wave crept on me! Every second turned into hours, and even better, this Greek god kisses by the book! He must have kissed other girls before me. Then, our lips parted. Internally, I pouted, wanting another kiss. I got my wish! After a brief exchange of dialect, we kissed again, but it was short changed when Nurse unexpectedly showed up and told me that my mother craved a word with me. (Nothing too serious, just about what I thought of Paris.)
Now this is the very bad thing. I asked Nurse to find out that boy's name was and if he was married. He is the one I want to marry. He is my first love, soul mate. God and fate have sentenced me to be with him. Nurse came back and told me his name was Romeo Montague. (At least he wasn't married.) I couldn't believe it. My only love was sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Fate has sentenced me to love a loathed enemy. How foolish can God's plan for me really be! O why can't he be from another family that is friends of the Capulets not enemies? Maybe if I think about this matter at my balcony surrounded by night's cool breeze, I can figure out whether to love Romeo or hate him. I'll write another entry to let you know how it went.
So long and goodnight,
Juliet