Breathe. Just breathe. In out. It ain't that hard. You are a functioning organism; every creature under the sun can respirate. Even plants, although they do it through tiny pores on the underside of their leaves called stomata, and oxygen also enters through loosely packed cells in their stems, called lenticels. Hey hey!

pah. "oh that this too too sullied flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself in a dew." "It cannot be that i am pigeon-livered and lack gall to make [this lit study go away] or ere this i should ha [dunnit.]" I am sitting in teh library right now and 'how all occasions to inform against me', as i see me fellow tortured year 11's revising studiously. "who breaks my pate across, pluck my beard [hmm...] and blows it in my face, tweaks me by the nose?...Sounds i should take it!'

Ah yes. I share the melancholic spirit of Hamlet, for my will and motivation has died, and it's faithful partner, sense, has entered a foul relationship with a 'bloody bawdy villian. Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! (otherwise known as lethargy, in my case)
And yes! I share his vice! Procrastination! Although, where he is overly scrupulous, paralysed in between two morally dubious paths, i am merely lazy.
hum. That indeed takes the heart out of the theory that i, like him, am a tragic hero; a soul unfit to bear the burden thrust upon it.

Oh! I love Horatio!
"I am more an antique roman than dane
Here's yet some liquor left"

Yet, despite my partiality, he doesn't really do much does he? His role begins when the play ends. Although, i hurriedly add, i certainly wouldn't write him out of the script. He is the essential couterbalance to the brooding and sordid atmosphere which soaks the play; he is the only one who resists corruption, the sole survivor at the end after Denmark has been 'purged' from its disease. And Hamlet finds a true and noble friend and listener in him. You know, someone to talk to. He can't talk to himself all the time. Horatio helpfully fills in the gaps with 'even so my Lord' and 'yes my lord'. While it IS true that his good chum informed him in the very first act of the apparition of the ghost his father, i'm sure one of the guards could have done so, perhaps Bernardo, just the same.

hum.
no, literally, hum. The world is too silent.