Juliet's Rantings

Hello. I’m Juliet. Yes, that one. The one who is supposed to fall madly in love with Romeo and put everything else on the line for him. The one who is too weak of a woman not to think that it’s completely crazy. Yep, that’s me. Welcome to my world.

       I was born into a rich family. A very rich family. One of the richest in Verona, in fact. Other than the Montagues...but we’ll get to them later. Some say otherwise, but I think the minute I was born my family made their plans for me. I got no say of course, because that would just be unreasonable. A woman running her own life? Never. Of course, I did have a great childhood. Servants to play with (and boss around), horses to ride, and a huge house equipped with many wide open rooms to run around in. It was bliss, though I never saw my parents much. I think they thought themselves too important to hang around with their daughter all day. My second mother, my nurse, took care of me from the start; she basically raised me. But I kind of wanted my blood parents to spend time with me. I wanted to know how it felt to be tossed up in the air by my father while hearing one of his rare, hearty laughs (that I usually heard from the other end of the house). I wanted to know what family support felt like. What the arms of my mother felt like. Oh well, I may as well have made the best of my situation.

      Everything was going according to plan. I grew up, isolated from the outside world. Not a care about enemies or evil. I was going to marry one of the most respected gentlemen in Verona, and we were going to be in love, have a lot of children, and I could be chained to motherly domestic responsibilities for the rest of my life. No questions asked. Wait, I have a question! Where’s the passion!? At what point do we get to do something daring and dramatic for love? When can we truly use all the clichés that love is seemingly never seen without? “I love you more than life itself. ”I would die for you.” I want to feel that. I want to feel so in love that I would die if I was never to see them again. I would die for the opportunity to be with them forever.

     Then came Romeo. Romeo Montague. “Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? "Yeah. Wherefore art thou a bore. Okay, to be fair, when I said that I did mean it. I didn’t choose to fall in love with a member of the family my family hated the most. But there was this party...he saw me, I saw him; it was love at first sight. From the moment I saw him, I knew I had to talk to him. I had to love him. He did too; that’s why he came to my balcony. It was fun, being this daringly in love. We would meet in secret, with only my nurse knowing where I was. We had plans to get married! I was so happy. Finally, we tied the knot. We were going to run away together and start a new life, but after the wedding night, things kind of died. I don’t mean we died. That would be far too depressing. And romantic. He stopped caring, and to be fair, I did too. We didn’t have that spark anymore; we didn’t embrace, hell, we hardly touched each other! We had nothing to talk about, so we spent all our time on separate ends of the city. I at home, reading or sewing, and he goofing around with his friends. I didn’t want this. Our love died, but I didn’t. I want some passion. It isn’t romantic at all anymore!