“You feel bad for me obviously, why else would you be here and – let me get this right – you’ll spend the rest of your evening talking about my issues with people, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her” and “She just won’t listen to me!” and I’ll sit here thinking that what I really want to do is throw a party with a huge banner that says, “Hey, maybe, you don’t really know me!”
You’re just here because I haven’t been talking to you and you need to feel wanted– still waiting in this vague hope that something great will happen to your life, something that will make you feel whole, someone who will understand just how…fragile you are…
You were the ink stains on my fingers, you were the pieces of a story that I was trying to write and I tried. The truth is I tried… so hard! And right now I’m so angry and I’m so, SO sad and I’ve felt so hurt, for such a long – long time. Things change with rage and I’m not – I’m not bullet proof.
But I’m also not a papier-mâché puppet, I am not a metaphor, and I am certainly not you. So you can believe everything your stupid, dull functioning senses tell you to! But don’t you ever feel bad for me. Next time you want to tell me something important – don’t. If you want to share some dark, ugly secret –don’t. If you want to tell me that you love me – don’t. And if you ever have this ridiculous idea that you have me all figured out – you don’t.
You are the issue, you are the problem: You tell everyone these tall tales, amuse them with pictures of you spinning around in an empty room.
They know what your favorite color is, what makes you laugh, how absolutely wonderful you are…
But really, does anyone know you at all? ”
(So I wrote this monologue for a class assignment and we had to perform our artistic pieces as well – surprisingly, I had a lot of fun doing this monologue. The back story that I developed in my head was about this young woman who falls in love with a man, only to discover that her love is not reciprocated because according to the man, “You’re so amazing. I hope I find a girl like you,” and she understands that he will never love her the same way she loves him. That he will love a girl “like her,” but not her, never her.
Here she expresses her anger directly to him at his inability to understand her, to know her – exposes his shortcomings and faults and in the process, finally realizes that her love for him may not be as permanent as she had thought. Comments and criticism shall be welcomed!)