THE SUICIDES ARE NOT MY FAULT


I can’t keep blaming myself for what happens in Romeo and Juliet. It’s a fictitious stage play that I cannot control. It has remained intact for hundreds of years. It is a tragedy, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But. But…

Dammit, Tybalt. Everyone knows your temper will get you in trouble. Why can’t you and Mercutio just go to the blacksmith and design a rapier together or something?

And the Friar. Don’t get me started on the motherfucking Friar. You married those star-struck, star-crossed, starry-eyed kids. How could you let this happen? You’re supposed to be a man of God. Dammit, Friar if you’re going to send a message to someone, you gotta ask for a FedEx return receipt. That’s just good business practice. But then again, you work for yourself, don’t you Friar. So I doubt you’re gonna Friar fire yourself.

But the Apothecary. What are you doing giving drugs to children?? Juliet begged. I know. But- But—it’s just not right. She and Romeo would have been so happy together. They would have founded a non-profit organization to help starving Montagues and Capulets across the globe (planet not theatre).

And Romeo. Romeo. Where for art, thou Romeo? Why do you take the easy way out? The love of your life is dead (seemingly). Anyone could take their own life. But you, Romeo, you could devote your life to a better understanding of paralyzing drugs and a more reliable courier system. It’s what Juliet would have wanted.

Juliet. I know you’re scared and I know you’re pregnant. I can read between the lines. I know you have twins on the way and the last thing you need is another suitor. I know the father isn’t Romeo. It’s Othello—that rat bastard. I know you’re actually a lesbian, Juliet. I saw the photos of you at that rally. And….I know you’re H.I.V. positive, Juliet. I infer what Shakes is getting at, and it all just makes me sadder for the ending.

I know it’s not my fault, but every time I read the story I can’t help but think that maybe if I intervened, maybe, just maybe I could save their lives. But I never intervene. I respect the independent nature of a “published play.” I cannot “change” the ending. Or make the tale “happy.” So I’m forced to live the life I can control and make my own Happy Endings.