Blog Post #13: Hamlet Blog 1

Prompt: Write an entry as if you were Hamlet, describing your feelings about your father’s death, your mother’s remarriage, and your new step-father. OR . . . write about bumping into the ghost and the "antic disposition" you're going to put on. Or you may want to address your role as the only individual who carries the burden of atoning for the death of your father, as you say, “The time is out of joint: O cursed spite / That ever I was born to set it right!”

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Taken from the perspective of Act I, Scene 2

They don't understand. None of them. They tell me to "cast thy nighted color off" and "all that lives must die" while they go parading off in their wedding (1.2.68,72). And a mere month - no, less - after my father's death too! 

No. They do not understand. My mother can only see my grief from the outside, from "my inky cloak" and "dejected 'havior of [my] visage" (1.2.77,81). But she does not think that anyone can dress up in black clothes and put on a sad face; she does not think that I have more grief inside of me than that on the outside. She, who would jump into bed with my father's brother - or rather, be convinced of it by that man (1.2.142). 

King Claudius is nothing to my noble father. He think himself a great king, and perhaps his words to the court prove him so, but I know he is nothing but a lying, scheming scoundrel. My father was "Hyperion to [this] satyr" and my heart breaks "for I must hold my tongue" against such hatred for Claudius (1.2.142,161). Yes, not even the lords and ladies understand. They only see a god.

"How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable/Seem to me all the uses of this world!" (1.2.33-34). What once was a beautiful kingdom now seems like an overgrown garden, with nothing but vines and weeds. I wish I could go back to Wittenberg, but King Claudius and my mother would not allow it. But perhaps wishing for Wittenburg is not enough. Perhaps wishing for death is a better solution. I would rather die than live under this king, than look upon the people who have not a thought for my father. 

But what can I do?

I can do nothing.