I go to sleep every night... hoping that I will wake up.

Macbeth has gone insane. There is no longer any question about it. Tonight he yelled and argued with his very chair where there sat nothing but air. I had to explain to the guests that the king often had such visions and make excuses for his erratic behavior. I then used the same ploy that I had used earlier and insulted his manhood to the point where he sat down and managed to hold a conversation again. I then realized how angry I was. All the fear that I was feeling over Macbeth taking charge and ordering those murders converted into anger. Who was he to think he could pull of a murder without me, to think he could pull off two! If I hadn't guided him through the murder of Duncan he wouldn't have even been able to put the dagger into Duncan, yet alone plan it so that he wasn't blamed   yet here he is planning on murdering two more men and getting away with it. I hadn't had time for the anger to hit when I was covering for Macbeth, and I hadn't realized it when he first mentioned his plan to kill Banquo and Fleance, but now a wall of anger had sneaked up on me and threatened to overcome my better judgment. What was the point of telling him to look like the innocent flower, when he would promptly forget it whenever it suited him! We were in this together, and if one of us was to look suspicious the blame would spill onto the other. I could barely contain this seething anger towards the man who made us stand out. For even such a simple thing could spell our doom. 
          Once he sat down I figured everything would be all right, but this was sadly not the case. He started talking to no one yet again while making a toast this time and I had to tell the guests to leave Macbeth so that he could be alone. Once they had gone I fought the urge to strangle my husband then and there for being so clueless, but instead I sat by him and listened. He told me that Macduff was being treasonous by staying away from court and that he planned on visiting the witches again in order to see more of the future. I thought that Macbeth was going insane, and my anger at his incompetence grew, but I managed to mask this and convince him to go to bed. I figured that if he was in bed he couldn't make the situation any worse. This entire encounter scared me as much as it angered me. It truly frightened me. Before I thought that Macbeth had killed Banquo simply in order to keep his throne, but now I worry that he has completely lost his sanity and that he may be coming up for reasons after he kills them. I truly fear for my life because if Macbeth kills people for barely any reason I fear that he may kill me while I will simply lay there not knowing what I did wrong, or worse, not even having done anything wrong.

Is this worth Duncan's life?

     And now I'm Queen. Was it worth it? The murder of the king will haunt me for the rest of my days, but what is done, is done. I will not think about it any longer. I should be rejoicing. I am Queen as I wanted and I have managed to do it by convincing my husband to do the dirty work, but I am afraid that it has stained him. I am afraid that he is no longer the man that I married. He now speaks of killing Banquo and Fleance without me saying a word. I no longer have the power to pull him back from the edge that I threw him over. He now continues to murder when there is practically no need. We have the throne; we should be rejoicing. Instead Macbeth goes to murder yet again. I fear I will not be able to stop him. I fear I have no more control over him. I fear we will be thrown off this throne before we have even gotten used to the luxuries it brings us.

Macbeth's letter to me.

Today was the kind of day where you wake up in the morning and you know it's going to be a long day, and then you walk around slowly , so as to save your energy for whatever it is that is going to make it such a long day. The thing, the vile thing that made it the day that it was all started with the letter. The letter promised great things for my husband, and I was proud of him. I was also excited because him being king is something that would benefit me as well; however, I was also frightened. Frightened that Macbeth wouldn't have what it takes to claim the throne. I didn't have to worry long, though, because soon enough a messenger came and told me that Duncan was coming today. I stopped thinking altogether and a small smile that only touched my eyes slowly grew until it was pulling at my mouth and it was all I could do to not break into cheers and laughs, for I had found the solution. If my husband couldn't kill Duncan, I would, for he would be in my very house and killing him would be as easy as killing a baby if I did it while he was sleeping.And then I schemed. I planned the whole thing out. We would have to drug his guards so that we could get to Duncan, and then we could use the guards' very weapons in order to do the deed so that we would not even be looked at twice. My husband entered, and I tried, desperately, to convince him and to tell him the plan, the strategy for how to kill the king and take the throne. I eventually did get through his thick skull and convinced him to do the deed while I drugged the guards and rang the bell to signal him. Everything was going well until he came back with the daggers in his hand, the bloody daggers. He seemed to be quivering and he couldn't make any sense. I felt like screaming at him for being such an idiot and taking the murder weapons with him, but instead I simply took the daggers from him and returned them to where it belonged, in the guards hand with all the blood from it smeared over the sleeping guards uniform.