Thursday, September 18, 2014
MONOLOGUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When I hear the maids talk about my daddy, It hurts my feelings. I hide away in the shadows, so the big people don't see my tears. I have to be strong, I am a captain. I Can't deal with my emotions. I bottle up what hurts me until it eats at me. I run away, to run away from my feelings. No matter how far I run, my feelings drag behind me. lugging with eery step I take. clutching on to me, as if they were my own shadow. I run until i can't stop. While I'm gone, my pent of emotions that i can't understand turn into fear. Fear is bad. But, Fear is better than confusion. For as long as i can remember all I've wanted is to get away. I wish I could get to a place where no one can find me. On the lake is the only place i have good memories. Me and my father. The emotions I have inside me cannot swim.
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i forgot my password so ill just post it here i guess, sorry. -Jack Antico
ReplyDeleteWhere are you going, why? Why are you doing this? My breaths were short and ragged. I wasn't sure where I was, but that's not important. The only thing that is important is that I was away from it. It is where bad things happen. I can’t be near it sometimes. Especially now, now I just can’t be near it. Sometimes I get that feeling in my stomach and arms, that acidy feeling of shakiness. So I just go. I just get away, away from it. Maybe I run away to search for my mothers love. My throat burns for the liquid of my mother’s love. But I know she’s evil; she just wants me to trust her so she can get inside. So she can get inside my head and jackhammer away its contents until there is nothing left but an empty shell. Kind of like those cracker jacks at ball games. Not the regular ones, the ones you crack open hoping to find some crunchy nut to chew on but find nothing. Some terrible pesticide that rotted away the inside. That’s what I will be like if I let her in. But I did let her in. Into my sailboat, that is. Maybe it was a lapse of judgment or maybe it was that I saw a glimmer of hope inside of her. When she was talking to me she did seem awfully nice and oddly sincere. That is quite unlike her. She must think me crazy sitting in a sailboat with no sails, flinging the tiller left and right and left and right. Like a madman, like my father. What about my father, after all he is my father. But am I his son?