Dear Diary,

I have done the unthinkable. I have killed my oldest friend. Banquo. No ibe can understand the amount of sorrow. Its too heavy a burden to bear, I can feel my heart sinking into the bottom of my body. I am unworthy, let the heavens strike me where I stand. I look back at the time shared with Banquo. We’ve fought together, wept together and yet  I was still capable of ordering his death and that of his sons. All of the things a man could want, I have and yet the fruits of my labour are sour and tastless. Amongst me there is a side that has been born. I morn but celebrate. I am filled with grief but am flowing with joy. Many feelings fluxate throughout me, I feel they cannot go unaddressed.

My best friend has become a victim of the greed that impowers my wife and I. Anyone who knows the truth will agree that the heart that beats within my chest should be stripped away from me. I am a human that does not deserve to live let a lone Kingship. However Banquo was just a simple soul in my, many others have been in that position. I am a man of war. My hands are tainted with the blood of my enemies. Banquo was a friend until he sided with the previous sire, Duncan. To hell with him and all of his children.

In fact I have done nothing wrong. All I have done was point a few men on the path to vengance. Banquos error was taking taking the message of the wierd sisters lightly and making so many enemies. I have faith they will deliver Banquos life straight into the hands of Hades himself. I am King of Scotland now. I have a country and a wife to worry about. Not an eliminated threat, a to be corpse.

I wish I could honestly say that. Wearing the crown that belonged to one that trusted me and the same on stolen from the son of my most loyal friends. How could anyone forgive me especially my wife. I have done a deed that cannot be undone. She must think of me a monster. I did this for her, my Queen. Enough, is enough.Banquo will bs dearpy missed however I have done what is nescessary. In fact all I did was enforce the words in which the sisiters spoke. No one can trifle them with their intelligence and knowing.

At the end of the day Banquo is gone. It may be in cold blood but that is only because I care so much for him I would not dig the blade into him. My children, and my childrens, children will remember the man called Banquo. As for now. The deed is done nothing can change that.

Until Tommorow,

Macbeth