So today was my funeral. King Claudius and Queen Gertrude were there, along with my brother Laertes, a priest, and then Hamlet and Horatio showed up. So as my beautiful corpse was lowered into the ground, my brother became enraged and jumped down into my grave, opened my casket, and revealed my body to everyone. I mean yeah I'm dead but still, was that necessary? I think not. Then Hamlet made things worse and came out of the woods and confronted Laertes and they got into it but Hamlet managed to talk his way out of being torn apart. At this point I really don't have any feelings of intimacy towards Hamlet. I am no longer Ophelia. I have no purpose. I am nothing.
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