Macbeth Journal Entry

I needed to leave the table. They all were having a feast, yet my mind is not thinking straight. The night has been chaotic. Lightning strikes, a brilliant flash across the sky, as if ripping that deep, stormy thick night apart like paper. Thunder rumbles through the castle which will soon fall silent after the feast for Duncan and his nobles. The moon is down, leaving a pitch-black night where one's flaws can be hidden and none's desires can be seen. My mind right now is also in a state of darkness and uncertainty. Why couldn’t I help myself but to think about the prophecies the Weird Sisters have bestowed upon me? Those creatures, they have more in them than mortal knowledge, if not how could they foresee I would be all-hailed "Thane of Cawdor"?
Can thou see the growing fire of ambition inside this body? I desire for the kingship I deserve to have, the greatness that is promised to me. I now feel the future within the palm of my hand, the day when I am saluted "King of Scotland" is within my reach. But I must not forget, the act I must carry out to ensure this ascension. That temptation I am yielding to, the dreadful thought of murdering Duncan is filling my mind. Those horrid images make my hair stand on end, my heart pound in my chest from fear. I fear to face the consequences of this terrible sin. With the guide of the agents of evil, one can easily be fallen into the deed of bloody instructions. But in this mortal world, those who commit murders are repaid for their crime. The only thing motivating me is my ambition, which makes people rush ahead of themselves toward disaster. Would I be able to accept the cost in order to achieve this dream? Would these hands be tainted by the blood of the very person of my existence? All these rotten thoughts inside me are drifting me away from my manhood. Duncan is my king, a gentle, humble leader that is so free of corruption, pity like an innocent newborn baby who rules this very own country, an old friend of
What am I to Duncan? A brave, capable warrior, raising his heroic sword on the battlefield, a nobleman who fought the Norwegians and protected the country, the worthiest Thane of Cawdor. Am I no more than a corrupted man, whose morality is blinded by ambition, who chooses to go against nature and kill his own king? I now carry responsibilities towards Duncan, who is in double trust. First, I am his kinsman and his subject, which are both strong reasons for not carrying out the deed, then, I am his honorable host, I cannot bear the knife myself. But why do I keep thinking about the prophecies, the day I will be crowned, the joy I will share with my dearest partner of greatness, my ambition of obtaining the golden round? In this twisted mind, my present thoughts are nothing but towards the future, the future I desire to achieve. I can hear nothing other than the occasional hoot of a hidden owl. Have I lived like a coward, saying “I can’t” after “I want to”? A man who cannot dare to act the way he