Macbeth Post Mortem Monologue

I was blinded by the status and the fate that I saw before me, the money and the luxuries that would surround me. For a moment, I was living without anything intervening with what I had been responsible for. However as my hands became redder with blood, I began to grow something that would ruin me. I grew a conscience. The guilt flooded each artery that sprouted from my frozen cold heart. Everything from that red memory flooded back into my eyes forcing tears to plunge from my eyes. I feel numb remembering the pool of blood that encompassed the dagger. I see the lifeless pile of nothingness in front of me and I scream. I scream and scream until my voice becomes nothing, just like the dead body that lays in my memories. The image is forever etched into my mind. I try to make sense of my senseless deed. Is it so evil to do whatever it takes to grant myself power and status? It all became so true; the power, the staus, the respect and a price... my prince! However, all fairytales come with 'bad news.' The death of Banquo had people become suspicious. They wouldn't understand! It had to be done! He has to sacrifice his life for a life full of hapiness for me. Each day I woke up I saw blood on my hands and bubbling out of my neck, just as it had done on Banquo. The guilt was eating away at me. I dug a dark dreary hole and avoided it at all costs, now I am at the bottom piled with a weight so heavy. It crushes my insides, I am so weak. I had to turn it off. I also became nothing. In no way did killing myself rid me of the blood on my hands. The death of Duncan follows me to the afterlife. Blood blurs my vision, it is all that I see. Murder has consumed me.