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Hamlet Progressive Diaries
First.
I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. So much has happened... There’s nothing I really like about life anymore... the only thing I have left is faith, I guess, but even that’s not a source of hope or anything. It just feels like more rules, more things I can’t do. But I suppose I have nothing to fear, myself. I’m not my mother, who... God, what was she thinking? I don’t like this... I don’t like anything anymore. I’m confused and I don’t know what to do. Mourning is easy. It’s something I can just do... I mean, it’s something outward. Wearing the black and all... I mean, it’s easy... just wearing black and everyone understands. Because I feel so exhausted. I’m tired of Earth. Half a year ago I was only worried about whether... but that is all gone. And my fool of an uncle with his idiotic parties and disgusting relationship with my mother is a little more than I can stand. They are family, shouldn’t they love me and think about me a little bit? I can’t think. I thought writing it all down would help, but I feel even worse. I have to get out of here; to-morrow I shall announce formally that I intend to return to Wittenberg. At least I could have studies to concentrate on, and be able to see Horatio, and maybe (dare I hope it?) forget about everything going on here.
Second.
It’s so strange! I think I feel happy in a perverted sort of way. I have a purpose again. I have a reason to keep living other than that I’m afraid I’ll end up somewhere unpleasant if I don’t. It’s very odd... my disposition probably went through its most rapid and dramatic series of upheavals today. First Claudius and my mother guilted me into staying here instead of going back to Wittenberg, so I was pretty depressed-- well, more depressed than I already was-- but then Horatio showed up HERE, so then I was happy-- relatively speaking. And then he’s got this messed up story about how he and some guys saw a ghost of my father, and at first I was wondering if it was some kind of sick joke. I mean, you never know what happens to a guy if you leave him at university by himself. But I saw it and... I think it was really him. My father. It was hard to understand... I’m supposed to kill Claudius, because he really killed my father. That was kind of a shock. I guess I can’t really be sure it’s true just because some transparent hobo told me so, but I can’t say I mind that much either way. Stupid jerk, being all stupid and macking my mother. Geez. So anyway, this is some pretty heavy shiznit, and I want to act kind of crazy for a while so nobody will suspect that I’m up to high treason and all. Ahhh, I love the smell of being alive in the... alive-time.
Third.
Just when you thought life didn’t get any crappier than having your stupid uncle kill your dad and then get with your mother (SICK!), your stupid uncle hires those two spelling-bee rejects Rosencrantz and whats-his-face to babysit you while you’re trying to plot his demise because what may or may not have been some sort of LSD flashback (hey, I was all full of sorrow and stuff, I can’t really remember what kind of stuff I was doing) told you that you ought to. I hate those two guys! I’ve always hated them, like for real. I mean, we had some pretty good times back in like... second grade, but ever since then they’ve always struck me as kind of... fruity. And now Ophelia’s being all wacky, like blowing me off and stuff? What’s that all about? I’m the prince! You don’t blow off the prince! Okay, I need to calm down. Ghostly visitation and angst have taken their toll on my psyche at large. And Horatio is no help. It might be my imagination, but he’s seeming a little fruity too these days. Well, maybe if Ophelia’s really serious about not liking me anymore, I could-- no. Bad mental image. Hamlet no want to ride the thought train no more. I GOTTA KILL ME SOME UNCLES. Ahh! I’m so crazy! Even I don’t know whether it’s just an act!
Fourth.
I’m sick of being a coward. I should just kill myself and find out. I’m tired of it all. I can’t do this anymore. If everyone’s like me, why did God make people? Maybe I’m the only one, but I don’t understand why God would make me... I don’t know why He made me at all. But I have a plan. I should stay alive until after the plan. I have to know. I think it should be true... I don’t know if it is or not, but it should be. That’s what I think. And Ophelia... I don’t think I should... think about her anymore. Since I’m what I am, it probably hurts people just to have me think about them. I don’t deserve to be happy, anyway. But the plan will work. Even if I’m a worthless human being... those players, somehow they are real people. I want something to happen, even though anything important that could happen now would be hideous. After all, if what the ghost told me is not true, it’s not bad enough to think about what I have been doing... but what reason will I have to do anything else? If I can’t leave... and no matter what happens, I can never just go back to living normally. Something’s wrong with me.
Fifth.
Feeling manic today! I was unable to write for a long time because I was kidnapped by pirates, and that was like a party every day, with rock and roll all night. I did some stuff that was kind of important before I left on my little voyage, so the long and short of it now is that Claudius is guilty as all hell but I want to wait until he’s busy in the act of being a stupid jerk before I kill him, and I killed Polonius (by accident, even though he sort of had it coming for being such a blowhard), and CURRENTLY, who’s-your-daddy and Guildencrap are going off to get killed by English people. I could have gone all the way to England, it might have been nice-- see the sheep and all-- but what if their dental hygiene habits rubbed off on me? Shudder. You know, it’s odd. I feel like I still have rational thought, but I keep thinking and thinking about it and I’m completely unable to feel remorse or guilt or anything about Polonius and those two guys... I don’t even feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I don’t feel anything at all.
Sixth.
Ophelia died. I think it might have been my fault. I thought about it for a long time and I finally decided that... when this is all finished... when Claudius is dead... I think I’ll kill myself, too... I’ve been a coward for so long. I don’t think my fear has deteriorated, but it’s a bit strange. My mother will... with her husband and son dead... it will be difficult for her. But she is strong. Maybe I will say that Laertes should be heir when I die. There aren’t really any relatives I could choose, and he’s as qualified for the position as I ever was. I hate... all this. I can’t believe that in half a year I went from a spoiled prince to a... an insane murderer and I don’t even feel anything anymore... I don’t feel anything.
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