King Lear 💫

1. Most people wanted  Lear and Cordelia to reconcile. Not me. I get a weird, twisted joy from the fact that Lear never gets to say “sorry” or “I was wrong” to Cordelia. Not because I hate her—but because her death means something. When she dies, Lear’s entire heart dies with her. She was the last good thing he had. Not just a daughter—she was the one shred of humanity he had left. The one person who didn’t treat him like a chess piece. And what does Shakespeare do? He h@ngs her. Then drops her limp body in her father’s arms and lets us watch him beg the heavens to undo it. And the heavens? They stay quiet.  Her death is not “pointless.” It’s perfectly cruel. It says- if you wait too long to appreciate the people who love you, they will be taken from you. Slowly and then all at once. And then Lear dies from heartbreak. Not in a soft poetic way—no. He dies how real people die when they lose everything that made life worth living. Shakespeare doesn’t give him peace. He gives him silence. And that’s why I love King Lear. It isn’t tragedy. It’s punishment —it’s divine sadism. 

2.  The storm is the only thing that makes sense. Everyone’s lying, scheming or going insane and then the weather shows up like, “You want context? The context is madness? I got madness.” Nature becomes the only honest character.

3. Goneril and Regan are mean girls but Shakespearean. They're not cartoon evil—they’re cold, calculating women tired of being props in their dad’s fantasy of control. Some critic argues that Shakespeare is a misogynist for portraying the sisters like that. But I think those characteres were necessary - women can be evil too yk. It was the female representation that we need in literature. I mean we have too many manie-pixie dream girls and Mary sues.

4. Gloucester gets his eyes torn out and literally sees the truth better after. He loses his sight and then gains insight. Symbolism? Please. This is just raw theatre with no chill. And I love it.

5. even the good people are helpless. A very sobering thought. Kent tries to fix everything and just ends up in disguise for most of the play getting punched and ignored. Edgar has to pretend to be a demon possessed beggar just to survive. Cordelia returns with an army and still dies.

 6. Lear’s breakdown is so theatrical (reminds me of my father on his best days)  it's almost funny. He goes out in the rain and starts giving speeches to thunder. He's losing his mind and Shakespeare lets you watch all of it.  The full-blown mental collapse of a narcissist.  

7. It ends not with justice but with silence also a rally of d3ad bodies. The survivors look around at the wreckage and don't say "It was worth it" or "Good triumphed." They say... “Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.” Then the lights go out.

Let’s be honest.... Othello is the Shakespearean version of "She didn’t text me back so I burnd down her village." It’s a love story that dies not with a bang  but with a deeply insecure spiral into delusion and pillow based murd3r.

There’s something hysterically bleak about watching a man with a literal war hero resume get emotionally dismantled by a dude who didn’t get a promotion.

More delightfully unwholesome reasons to love Othello-

1. Because Iago is the office gossip with a knife.

He’s not a grand villain. He’s not S@tan. He’s middle management. He’s a bitter HR complaint that grew legs and started puppeteering c0rpses. And he wins—not because he’s brilliant  but because everyone around him lacks basic communication skills and is stupid or in love. Or both.

2. Because Othello is hot until he opens his mouth (don't cancel me for this)

Othello starts the play as the dream: eloquent, noble, tragically misunderstood. I really felt sad and angry on his behalf for all the r@cism he faced but by Act IV, he’s giving slap monologues and calling Desdemona a wh0re with all the restraint of a R3ddit comment section. still angry about the r@cism .

Watching his dignity melt is horrifying, yes—but also a bit like watching someone eat glue in real time while insisting they’re fine.

3. Desdemona’s only crime was being too supportive.

She tries to help Cassio get his job back and her husband straight up decides she must be cheating. This is not just a tragic misunderstanding—it’s the Elizabethan equivalent of accusing your wife of infidelity because she shared someone’s social media post.

4. the handkerchief subplot is peak Shakespearean drama.

A grown man murd3rs his wife because of a dropped accessory. Not blood. Not proof. Not even a shirtless Cassio in the linen closet. A handkerchief.

5. Emilia is the real MVP and d!es for spilling tea.

Emilia figures it all out. She calls Iago out in front of everyone like she’s on a live broadcast and he st@bs her. For telling the truth.  Whistleblowers are always stabbed or shot.

6. everyone is emotionally 12 years old.

Cassio gets drunk once and starts crying about reputation. Othello thinks Desdemona being nice to a coworker means she’s cheating. Desdemona wants to fix everything with polite conversation as if men (in the play) are rational beings. No one communicates. Everyone assumes. Murd3r ensues. 10/10 writing.

7.  in some ways, it’s like King Lear on fast forward

King Lear takes five acts to destroy a man’s mind. Othello does it in two and a half. There’s something satisfyingly economical about that.

By Act III, Othello’s like: “I think I’ll ki!l my wife.” And we’re just along for the ride.

8. it’s fun to watch a how fast people’s loyalties change and how fast emotions override rationality (especially how fast one's intentions change when one's pride is affected)

Watching Othello go from “My life upon her faith!” to “I’ll t3ar her all to pieces” is horrifying—but in a Greek tragedy kind of way. It's like watching a slow motion car crash narrated in iambic pentameter.

Ok now for real,

I love Othello not because it just teaches us about the dangers of jealousy or the poison of manipulation—but because it reminds me how fragile love is in the hands of people who don’t understand themselves. It’s not a tragedy because a good man is destroyed—it’s a tragedy because everybody involved had a million chances to stop and didn’t.

And sometimes, I just like watching the worst case scenario unfold with perfect language, a touch of eyeliner, and a very, very dramatic pillow.