Here's a monologue I wrote a while back... I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking about when I wrote it... All I know is that I'm glad I don't think like this anymore.Warning: it's dark. And depressing. Sorry.
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Never knew what I was supposed to be, don’t even know what I want to be. I guess I’m just not beautiful. Nothing I said came out like I wanted. Nothing I found funny was laughed at. I didn’t want everyone to stare. I just wanted to fit in. I only wanted you to smile. Like that little child… shaking their heads back and forth, and waving from the wrist. Does it impress you? Will you tell me I’m beautiful? Will you say you love me? Why do I need you to say things that you don’t really understand? What is it about me that got ripped off? Is it my mind? Is it my heart? Is it my hands? Is it my soul? Maybe when He made me, something cracked in the mould. Maybe the design was eaten by mold. I don’t have the answers. All I know is that something’s wrong. Something’s missing. Something never fit, and I don’t know what or why.
And even if it was wrong, why can’t you just tell me why? Why can’t you tell me what I’m doing wrong? Why do I always ask why? I’m still that child. I’m still that little child. I can’t come to grips with the way you react. I still don’t understand why you got so mad. I don’t know why I can’t stop being sad. I don’t know why I can’t stop this bitter resentment from growing. I can’t stop being depressed. How did I end up so depressed? I think I’m starting to lose my laughing heart.
I’m turning into something I hated when I didn’t know what hate was.
People told me I was fun to be around… What happened? I know. I gave in. You didn’t see it, but I gave in. I caved in. I was tired of being hurt. I was tired of being left alone. I was tired of running away because I couldn’t bear to see your face so fallen, so disappointed in me. Cause when I tried to make the world go away so I could understand, no one came to hold my hand. I was left alone. Why didn’t you reach out to me? When I was trying so hard to reach you?
It’s been too long… too many years spent alone. I’ve tried my best, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to be the best I am. It’s always about the best I can. But if I’m doing it, isn’t it what I can do? Other than that, what do you want? How do I make you smile? How do I fit in? Or maybe the question is how do I break the mould? Maybe I wasn’t supposed to conform to everything you wanted. But that’s not right, right?
All eyes on me… cause I need to be what you want me to be. I need to be what you want just so I can be loved. I need to be what you want just so you’ll smile. I need it. I need you. Then again, I’ll be gone any day now… I won’t change you. I won’t change anyone. I won’t change anything. If I’d never been here, you wouldn’t have felt anything about me, you wouldn’t have been any different. If I die, I would leave nothing behind but empty thoughts and broken pieces of my heart. Stolen fragments of a broken mind. Shattered flames of a burning soul.
What’s the use in trading shoes? Shouldn’t we trade souls? Shouldn’t we trade consciences? I know those torture me more than anything physical ever could. I can’t go a day without remembering the horrible things I’ve done, or without cursing my own soul. Cause God, I know I deserve to burn in Hell. But hell, maybe this is Hell. It sure isn’t Heaven. Or maybe it’s Heaven for someone out there. Someone I’ve never known, never touched, never seen. But it’s a Hell for me. It’s a prison for me. It’s a cage with burning bars of diamond. Beautiful, but breaking. They won’t break, but they broke me. And now they eat at my burning soul, turning it into an empty pain. A pain that doesn’t exist for anyone but me.
Maybe they’ll use the ashes of my soul…? Maybe they’ll turn them into coal…? Maybe they’ll force me closer to myself…? And turn me into diamond bars for the next tortured soul…? Am I just a punished soul waiting for my turn to punish another? Am I just here for the prison bars? Is that why you never laughed? Is that why I can’t fit in? Maybe I’m made to sin…? What a wicked existence. What a hell. What a terrifying thought. But then again, so am I.
