“I only had a little”

Glenn (surprised), I wasn’t expecting you to be up. I thought you were going to bed. You know don’t you? I can tell you know. At least you aren’t dad. I didn’t break curfue. I only had a little. Everybody else was doing it. I knew and trusted everybody there. Those can be my arguments. Just in case dad finds out. He will ground me I understand that. (Pause) I could just tell him. I would get in a lot less trouble, like when criminals plead guilty. He will see that it was harmless. Remind him that he did it when he was a kid. He will not hurt me then. I will still get yelled at, just not hit. I know he does not normally hit me but this might set him over. Although he did not hit you when he caught you. I will tell him the names of the people I was with. He knows them and trusts them. He will understand that I could not have been hurt with them around. No damage was done to myself. I will not tell him who brought it. That way everybody who was there will get in the same amount of trouble. I will remind him that all of my grades are fine and will not be affected. Remind him that I have never broken any rules, well except for this. I will tell him I have been the child who helped when it was needed. I was the only one who ever told the truth, even when I was getting in trouble too.

I do not have a problem. I only tried it once and did not like the taste. That will not work will it? He will assume I am lying about trying it once if I say I don’t like the taste. If I plead guilty I will not get in trouble for lying. That would only add to my punishment. Hopefully he will not tell me I can’t see Steve, Josh, or Ryan again. I can’t really make an excuse to hang out with the people who got me to drink. I will still see them at school, but it won’t be the same. It is not like I am drunk. I will be able to get up and go to school in the morning no problem. I won’t have a hangover. I just had a sip. 

This needs to end…

(In her room sitting in a corner with low light down knees up.)

I’m scared….

I’m scared shitless. …

(Pleading)

I want this to end.

No I need this to end.

What did I do to deserve this?

I mean, all I did…was help someone.

Was that so wrong?

They were being bullied,

And I thought it was wrong so…of course I intervened.

(Suddenly bland cold voice with no feelings but hate and blame)

But then It happened.

They turned on me.

First…the school,

…And then my friends.

I could handle the ignorance of the teachers and the sudden downfall in my ‘Popularity’. But of course,

When you leave something unattended or…let things go on without doing anything about it for a long time…

It gets worse.

Much worse.

(Sarcastic snobby tone)

It starts with the small pranks,

You know,

Like the old disappearing desk, or…the classical egg throwing and being locked in the bathroom stall with a bucket of water dumped over your head.

(adding in a lost wondering tone. Almost as if shes not speaking )

Then it turns big.

Thumb tacks everywhere you go. Burning trash in you book bag.

And if that doesn’t make someone paranoid enough,

(Questioning answer demanding tone)(Starts pacing)

Then what about when you to home to find everything in your room trashed,

but the doors were all locked. (smirking)

When you can’t even be safe in your own house… its scary isn’t it?

Speaking. It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not like I can’t. So just go on… speak! But of course, I can’t, my throat closes up and I’m silenced again my by own fears. Write a poem, Mrs. Kemp said, write a poem about what you feel, it could be about anything, don’t hold back, don’t edit, just write. And so we do, we pour out our souls onto this 9 by 7 inch paper and then she tells us to speak. To get up in front of the class and recite the most vulnerable parts of us. So naturally, I go first. ‘Melody, read us your poem.’ And my heart stops, and my blood runs cold, I shake my head as my throat closes up, such a frequent feeling. I open my mouth but no sound comes out, and all Mrs. Kemp does is frown and look disappointed. I’m not surprised, this has been going on for a while.  I think people have begun to forget my name, ‘The quiet girl’ they call me. I haven’t always been silent, they have to know that, I’ve spoken to many of them before. They ask my why I don’t talk like they don’t know, like they weren’t the cause of it. I used to speak. But not anymore, once you’ve been shut up so many times, you loose the glamour of it all. Expressing my opinions means nothing if nobody wants to listen. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to them. Why should I have to share my thoughts? Thoughts are private things. My thoughts, my opinions, are mine and mine alone. Some people’s thoughts are nasty and mean, some people only want to tare you down, but what could you possibly hold against me if I never speak? 

-7-year-old girl, Angie on a hospital bed

-7year-old Cary, her friend talking to her

 (Angie laying on hospital bed, Cary sitting on a chair doing homework)

Angie, what did you get for number 7 on that math worksheet?

(Pause)

Are you sure? I got 2 not 1. You have to minus 1 not 2, silly. Mrs. Valley yelled at Kenny today in Religion class. Kenny took Sean’s notebook and threw it on the floor, so Mrs. Valley grabbed him by his shirt, took him outside and started yelling at him. She said that he is always a disruption to her class and that he never listens. She told him that she was going to send a note home to his mom. He was so scared!

Excuse me, nurse, can you get her a glass of water? Thank you.

(Nurse comes back with water. Monologue is spoken to the nurse now)

Ang, are you sleeping? (pause) Good. She needs to sleep. She’ll be really tired if she doesn’t sleep, if she’s going back to school on Monday. I don’t know how she’ll do it if she can barely sit up, let alone walk around for a whole day.  I wish I could sleep. I’m so tired, but I have to wait for my mom to pick me up when she’s done work. I know that cancer isn’t easy for anyone, but I just wish her cancer was curable. My mom was talking to her mom and they were talking about her cancer eating. It was eating something.. Oh! It was her brain. The cancer was eating her brain. They said that her brain was gonna turn to mush in a couple of weeks. I hope it’s not to mushy when she goes to college, cause my sister says college is really hard. Angie will have to think really really hard when she goes if her brain is all mushy. (beep beep beep)

(panic) Nurse? What’s that beeping noise? Is Angie okay? What’s going on! Help her! Take the needle things out of her arm! They’re hurting her! Help! Angie! Wake up! Angie! (back to nurse) Help her! She’s not waking up! Get her mom! She’s in the waiting room! (calls Angie’s mom) Michelle, Michelle! Hurry something’s wrong with Angie! She’s not waking up! She has to be okay for school Monday. (pause, long beep) the beeping stopped. She’s okay right? There’s no more beeping. She’s okay… Angie? Why won’t she wake up? Did the cancer go away? Did the cancer make her brain mushy? Is that why she won’t wake up? (Starts to cry) I hate cancer. Tell her cancer to stop making her sleep. She has to go to school to see everybody. Angie, Angie! Get up! We’re gonna go to school. Come on! (Mom walks in) Mommy, Tell Angie’s cancer to stop making her sleep! (pause) Angie I have to leave, mommy says we’re going home. I’ll come back tomorrow to see you okay? I love you.

(end scene)

Victoria Yarbrough

November 9, 2011

Monologue

Today is the day. The judge will determine if I get to go back home to my mama. It’s been so long and I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. I’ve been on my best behavior. I brought my grades up, I apologized to all the punks I beat up, and I even cut off the ties with the drug suppliers. It all was hard, but I don’t want to go to another home where those people could care less about me. Where they forget to feed me, tell me I can’t go outside, and make me sleep on the floor. They're all liars, and pretend to give a damn in front of the authorities. I just want my mama to want me. I even promised God that I’d be better and I don’t get into that religion stuff. No more fighting, no more staying out late, and definitely no more selling drugs. I’m not a bad person though, all I’ve done, good or bad has been for my mama. I was tired of seeing her struggle with the rent, and living paycheck to paycheck. Especially when something could be done. I had to do something, right? My daddy ain’t shit; he left at snap of a finger. For my trying to help, they blamed my poor mama saying:

“Ms. Peters, your son is out of hand, and you have no control over him. We feel that it’d be best if he lived with a more organized family.”

 But the crazy thing about it is, she didn’t even cry or beg for me to stay. She just let them take me. I expected some real dramatic Life time scene where she’d be beating people’s ass’s for me. Instead, she pulled a poker face, signed some papers, and looked right through me. I felt the chill that lived in her eyes. She didn’t want me. I tried to help her and she didn’t want me. So why do I want to go back to her so bad? We don’t even get along and all we do is bicker. She wanted for me to have a better life though, but I am content with struggling if it means I can be with her. I’ll put up with the senseless fighting. I’ll find another way to help her. Hell, I’ll get a job even though I hate working. I’d rather have bad times with her than good times with someone else. Oh God, I hope the Judge makes the right decision. I can’t stand living with her, but I can’t stand living with those other people even more. I want to feel a mother’s tough love, not the synthesized version they’re trying to spoon feed me.They don't know my mama, and she's not a bad person. I was. But I've changed.

  It was about a week ago that you broke up with me. I feel like you left me because I didn’t want to have sex with you. I wasn’t easy enough for you. When the topic of sex came up, I told you I wasn’t ready, only because we were only together for 3 months. Then the day after I told you that, we all of a sudden weren’t working out? You claim that you were going through so much, and that you couldn’t handle those situations and me. So am I considered one of your problems? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Even if I am not one of them, you knew that I was here for you. I’m going through that same shit you are but tried to make this work, I knew that you were here for me; well I thought you were. Its just crazy how we were close ass friends for years before we decided to be together and you promised we were going to stay close no matter what..but its obvious that you broke that promise..

  To me, that whole excuse of you “going through to much” is a bunch of bullshit that I will not believe. Do you realize how this makes me feel? Did you stop and think about how this would affect me? No, you didn’t. You thought about yourself like always. And that hurts. I was always here for you, you were all I wanted and needed. I felt like I could be myself around you. You were the only guy that ever made me feel like I mattered or had a purpose in the world, or maybe you just did that in the hopes of getting in my pants…

 My feelings are all over the place. One-minute I’m full of rage, the next I’m trying to smile and feel good about everything to get you off my mind. I’m confused. I’m confused because I am still unaware as to why this situation would even occur. Just a day ago we were all smiles and laughing, holding hands…. and now I cant stand you, I miss you, I’m in regret, part of me wants you back. I don’t know what to do with myself.

  I showed you how much I cared, you knew I had nothing but love for you; you knew that and took advantage of it. I never reveal how I feel. Not to anyone. I told you things that I have never even told my closest friends. So many deep feelings and thoughts because I thought you would listen and help me. But would you like to know what hurts the most Rafael? The fact that I thought you cared… But of course it turns out that I thought wrong.

 I don’t even blame you Rafael. I blame myself for caring too much and letting you in my life. I should have known from the start that you we’re just like the rest. I don’t know what made me even think you were different. I hope that one day, someone does this same shit to you. I want you to feel the pain that I feel. Until then, leave me alone and live your life. I was living my life before you and I’ll keep on living after you. Maybe this is me just trying to get over you, or maybe I just don't care anymore...

“I just want to be free!”

I look around my surroundings, waterfalls, sunsets, and green grass sprouting out the ground not afraid to show its identity, unlike me, I am hiding behind my own shadows.

Birds chirping, singing me that beautiful lullaby I was never told as a child

I am tired.

I guess blue, black, and red are my favorite colors because I wear them all the time.

It started when I was 7!

To young to know right from wrong but I guess I was old enough to know pain and misery, that’s all they’ve given me was pain and misery.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!” All my life these 6 powerful words have been spit upon.  Sorrow and hurt have been stomped on, just…like… my… face.

 My parents never game a damn about me.

I was simply just a check that came through the mail.

I just want to be loved!

I stand tall like the trees, but broken down like these rocks

Fuck the rain I created these waterfalls from my tears at night.

I am an abused child.

Why am I an abused child?

No one ever told me they loved me before I laid my head down at night.

What, am I not good enough for you?

Am I only worth your anger and animosity? Bittersweet kisses planted on my cheek from your fist. I guess you love to mark your territory.

“Shit I’m doing it again!”

Constantly feeling like I’m doing something wrong but I’m the victim!

            “I just want to be free”

When I run they always find me, when I hide the lights are always being shun upon me.

                                                So here I am

Standing upon this waterfall it’s my time to go.

            No one can find me now. They would never look for someone so ugly in a place that’s so beautiful.

            I’ve only lived 17 years and though so short it feels too long I jus want be free…. and suicide seems to be the only key to that door so here I go.

 My foot loosing its grasp from the ground, eyes closed shut like the doors of freedom I am trying to open,

 I have fallen.

My last breath hits the water, my hourglass has finally ran out.

I choke, cough out my last breath, my last air bubble. It flows deeper and deeper into the water as it relays my last message to the world, “I Am Free!”

Laura De Jesus

Monologue

Why did my mother marry an alcoholic?

            Its 11 o’clock on a Saturday night, where I would be usually out and about with my life I’m sitting here in my living room looking at my mother cry I wonder why. (Looking at her), He does not love her, or us. She continues to stay, while he continues to beat and threaten her. Love is a two way street and she is the only one trying. Every night he comes home, drunk. Now that he does not work, he has no reason to stay sober.

She says she stays for us, but I know she knows we don't need him. He does nothing for us, buying us the things we want; he thinks that’s good enough. In reality, all I have is hatred. I get tired of seeing my mother suffer. I don't want to come home another day after school, rather be out all day and night.

Seeing him tumble and slur out words is now old. Being born and raised with an alcoholic father is not the “dream”. Crying herself to sleep every night is stressful. Not even able to complete what I need to thinking is she okay in the back of my mind, I’m tired of seeing her hurt. The bruises my mother has are invisible, but I, her daughter can see.

Being at school, and out with my friends is what keeps me sane. Out of my house, I feel safe and feel free. Once entering the place I call home it’s a nightmare, I can’t take it anymore. Feeling threatened and unknowing of what can happen next is not normal for a person of my age. Fifteen year olds are supposed to be enjoying life. So why am I sitting here in my living room crying my eyes out?

Tears rolling down my face bring back memories. (Looking at my mother) I want to love and spend time with him; I mean he is my father. But the fear has taken over me completely. I’m scared to have the knife put up to my wrist again, scared to say what I feel because of the fist coming to my face. I should not be afraid of my own father; he is one of the reasons that I am here.

I’m sitting her looking dumb, when I want is for my prayers to come true. When my grandmother was alive, everything was great, always happy and smiling. After that, is when the addiction to alcohol came along. Depression is difficult thing to over come, but we were here, why did he not come to us? Feel as though we are not good enough.

Grand mom, please, (Looking at the photograph of grandmother), I’m begging you to please help my dad. I may not feel the same way I did before, maybe I don’t feel anything towards him, but I know that he is needed and wanted by my mother. Help my father be able to get through his issues and become the same person he was before he lost job. I am begging you, make it go back to the way it was when we were all happy.

Once I got up the next morning my mother yelled from the bath room, ‘Anthony its time for school, get up and take your bubble bath’

I yelled back, ‘Okay dog, this time make sure my yellow squeaky duck is in there alright home slice’

Yes I’ve been waiting for this day to come ever since I got an A plus on my art project last year. That project was so hard we had to spell our names out of cereal. I keep putting “Pimp daddy Ant”. Today’s going to be great especially since I have Ms. Snuffle bottoms with me.

When I finally got pass those gates and saw my friend Chuck with his Jan-sport book bag. I started to walk towards him with this expression on my face.

 (With a cheesy face) ‘Hey what’s up Chuck Waggon, how was your summer?’

He look at me with a I’m about to punch you in the face look. ‘It was good man, (in a mad tone) how many times did I tell you to not call me by my full name… Anthony.’

I started to giggle and I almost pissed in my pants when I saw his reaction. I wanted to see it again so I said ‘My bad Chuck Waggon, hey do you want to see something’

He almost popped a vein when I said that, but once his face wasn’t red any more he told me in a silent but mean voice ‘What!’

I grabbed my superman book bag and pulled out Ms. Snuffle bottoms. She keeps getting caught with the pencils and pens I had in my bag. His eyebrows rose and he look as if he wanted to start laughing. He said (With laughter behind it) ‘What? You still have a teddy bear?

i wanted to punch him in the face for asking a question like that but instead I answered ‘Yea so!’

he looked around and saw a crow and told me ‘Nothing I think you should go show Ms. Snuffle bottoms to that big crowd of 8^th graders over there, I think they’ll like Ms. Snuffle bottoms a lot.’

I had got so defensive that I said in a quick and silent voice, ‘you know what… I will!’

I started to walk towards them I knew that they were going to love Ms. Snuffle. Bottoms. I mean who doesn’t love teddy bears with button eyes. Once I go to them I tapped one of them on their navy blue shirt, right on his shoulder. When he turned around I began to stretch out my hands with Ms. Snuffle bottoms.

‘Hey do you like my teddy’

After I said those six words through out the whole day people have been laughing and pointing fingers at me. Most times when people saw me they called me something that was related to (in a disgusted voice)“teddy lover”.

See now Ms. Snuffle bottoms would have never sold me out to the whole school. I mean she wouldn’t have done what my friend Chuck Waggon did to me.