July 9th 1484

DEAREST DIARY,

Before, I could not sleep due to lonely longing and solitude, yet now, I can not sleep for sheer chilling rapture, for fear I would wake up to find it all a mere dream. But still, the bitterness of the impossible circumstances under which I have met my starry eyed, radiant lover reminds me that it is indeed reality, yet the reality is no consolation.

If heaven brings greater joy than this I can not know how, for I feel now that my happiness has reached it quotient and were life to become anymore blissful, I would simply overflow and the precious elixir of life would be spilt and wasted. Once, when I was young and overjoyed about some inconsequential thing, the Friar warned me that it does not do to be so happy, for sorrow will hit you like the plague once it inevitably comes and disturbs your delight with its encompassing shadow. But, then and now that advice does nothing for me, I can not think that there is any sorrow in this luminous world on this day when my love and I are wed.

It was the Friar himself who married us with only himself and god as our witness. I cannot believe that it was only two suns prior that I still believed myself to love Rosaline. Can it be that there was ever a time when I did not know and love Juliet? I think it not possible. Friar Laurence reprimanded me for my hearts fickleness. He told me that my love was not real; he claimed that I love Juliet for her beauty, not for herself as was the case with that detestable Rosaline, whose memory sparks ridicule and shame of my childish infatuation. But then, I would not expect Friar Lawrence to understand. After all, being a man of the church he has taken the vow of celibacy, and must be excused for his ignorance.

However, I went to him first thing this morning to ask him to marry myself and Juliet and he agreed, in hopes that this would end that feud between our two families. I no longer feel the hatred of that ancient grudge, whose purpose is unclear and forgotten, the flame of impulsive anger has burned, and all that remains is the charred anguish of its casualties. My fair lady said it best, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." She spoke the truth. If only the old and wise could be as sensible as the irrational youth. A Juliet by any other name would be as sweet, any other name but alas, Capulet.

My friends and family were worrying about me, that I was wasting my days away in darkness and solitude. But they ought to be worrying about themselves. I consider their hate filled lives empty and wasteful. I would rather live one love filled day with Juliet, then a million years, vacant within their poisonous hatred.

After I spoke to the Friar, I went to Mercutio and Benvolio, who still believe I am over the moon with Rosaline, and know nothing of how I am over the sun about Juliet. Soon my lady's Nurse arrived, seeking an answer for Juliet. I told her that we were to go to Friar Lawrence's cell that afternoon to be married. And so, Juliet came and we were wed. What happens now? I know not.

ROMEO MONTAGUE