I wrote this for my english class and figured I would post it here and not let it go to waste. xx
I despise the heat; I wish I was back in Venice with the cool wind.
How I miss that wind. How it would ripple through the curtains, flutter through my hair.
It would make the evenings between me and Iago bearable.
But if Iago wants me in Cyprus, then in Cyprus I shall stay. Even if this heat kills me.
What Iago wants, Iago gets and Iago wants a lot of things. Dangerous things.
Things that make me worry for him. Make me worry for us and our future.
I wonder what he wanted so desperately with Desdemona's handkerchief, he must have a reason. Iago always has a reason, even if I do not understand.
Who am I to question my husband's actions? I trust Iago completely, that's part of my duty as a wife. I do what I am told, without question.
If he needed Desdemona's handkerchief there is a good reason for it.
I would do anything for my husband; that includes stealing from my closest friend.
Desdemona is kind and sweet but she is naïve.
She knows not of the horrors and of the injustices of the world.
She doesn't understand that men fall out of love as quickly and easily as they fell into it.
Iago loved me once, treated me as sweetly as Othello treats Desdemona but that never lasts.
I envy the way Othello looks at Desdemona, even at the beginning of our marriage Iago never looked at me like that. Othello looks at her with admiration, with lust, with love.
All that unconditional love looks like it's coming to an end, from what Desdemona has told me the honeymoon is over.
Men get bored of their toys easily. That is what their wives are to them; playthings.
Playthings that to them can be easily thrown away, that do not have to be valued.
They do not realize that their wives are not emotionless beings. That we have feelings, we long for them to love us. To have them treat us with the love that we show to them.
That is one of the downfalls to being a woman; we are told to love our husbands.
We are never told that they might not love us back. No one prepares us for the reality we face after we get married. Not even our mothers, who have lived what we live now.
Not even those who birthed us, fed us and loved us, they never prepared us for what marriage really is.
I vowed when I got married to Iago that I would serve him. I have done that.
But it has cost me my dignity and self-respect. How am I supposed to serve and honor my husband when it goes against everything I have been taught?
God is fickle with his words; he says one thing but wants us to do another.
I keep telling myself that this guilt I'm feeling about stealing Desdemona's handkerchief is wrong because I was obeying my husband's orders.
How can doing as your spouse wishes be wrong? It shouldn't be, yet I feel awful.
Desdemona would never do something like that to me, I have betrayed her.
But I shouldn't fret over something I cannot change.
Iago may not love me as much as Othello loves Desdemona but Iago is my husband.
And I trust my husband.