Half Glass Monologue

Emily: I believe monologue

I like high heels because they make men look at me.
I walk around like I'm a hooker: I might as well be.
I'm selling my soul for hits of faux affection,
until I find a guy giving the real stuff.
Yeah, I won't leave the apartment until my make up's done.
Going out in sweats looks weak; vulnerable.
I don't have that luxury.
My motto's always been "look your best when you're feeling your worst, and no one will know any better".
It's just the way I gotta be.

I live my life in a fucked up way;
because I've had a lot of fucked up things happen to me.
I'm not going to give you a sob story about how we were poor, and I got hit.
That's all in the past.
It just means I like a good strong drink when things get rough.
And I'll punch a few walls, until my hand's broken or bleeding, when I'm sober.
It's just the kind of girl I am.
Call me a slut because I'll go home with the guy
who's saying all the things I want to hear.
I need to hear it somewhere.

I'm unemployed and it's a problem.
My skill set is limited.
I write, I drink and I give excellent head.
Not the kind of things you put on a resume.
I hate depending on people. I hate taking favors.
Hell, I don't even like gifts. What did I do to deserve them?
It's just who I am.

I just gotta find a guy who's gonna hold me when I need it,
and let me punch things when I want to.

Another Half Glass Monologue

Travis: I believe Monologue

I'm the kind of guy who gets hurt really damn easily.
I don't have a lot of friends,
I don't trust people enough.
I'd rather have friendly acquaintances.
I compartmentalize.
School stays at school.
Family stays with family.
Lovers stay in the bedroom.
None of the lines should ever overlap; there's too much chance for someone to realize I'm not who I say I am.

I love intimacy.
Sometimes, I'd rather cuddle than fuck.
But people don't see me that way.
I'm the cool guy you can pick up for a one- nighter
and leave before I wake up, knowing I won't ask for more.
So I take the sex and reminisce on the touches;
hoping I was good enough.

I drink a lot.
I always have.
You don't start doing breakfast shots at thirteen without a damn good reason.
Whiskey's like water, and tastes that much sweeter.
I don't black out, and it takes a certain situation to make me vomit.
But I'll put down a fifth in a blink.
Sue me.
It makes my mind slow down; no more anxiety. Just feeling.

I act like a cynic.
I know I'm a romantic.
I just gotta find the girl who knows the difference.

Emily's Favorite Monologue

[[Monologue from Half Glass, read @ Fiction Writers & Playwrights at Dinner]]

Emily’s Monologue

Baby, the rest of the world is cold enough already, they don’t need your frost covered speech fogging up their cell phone screens. Stop saying what they want to hear—what blends in. Whisper warm little lines in my ear. Help me melt the world one kiss at a time.

Soon we’ll all be swimming again.

You and I can shout “Come on in, the water’s fine”!

Fine.
Fine. Fine. Fine! Keep standing there like a snowman—silent and stationary—ignoring the hula dancing bikini girl over here in the sand, calling your name.

Travis, please!
What am I saying? You’ll never listen to me. You’re bent on being cool, so you don’t get hurt again. But don’t you see what you’re missing? You’ve got happiness right in front of you, if you’d stop being a martyr and let somebody in! Fuck, I know it’s hard to trust people, I’ve been there too! But not everything is too good to be true. So what if it fails in the long run, do what’s going to make you happy right now, kid. I’m not waiting forever. Let’s experiment together.
I’ll see you on the boardwalk, babe —I’ll be the one wearing heart shaped glasses with rose tinted lenses.

outlining

Ophelia lit her first cigarette of the day, looking out at her familiar street, ready to walk down to the lake.
"Hey, can I borrow your lighter?"
A tall, thin man with rusty brown hair had exited the building and slipped a cigarette between his raspberry hued lips.
"Sure."
She handed him the red plastic Bic with a smile.
Ophelia watched him cup long bony fingers around the flame until the end of his cigarette glowed.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
She slipped the lighter back into her purse.
"I'm Danny." he said, extending the hand she'd watched moments before.
"Ophelia." she said, allowing him to take her hand.
"You live here?"
"Mhmm. 2014. My third year here in the building."
"Wow. You like it, then?"
"Nowhere I'd rather be."
She took a drag of her cigarette.
"What're you up to, so early?"
"I was going to head down to the lakefront. It's really nice in the morning," she paused, "want to join me?"
Danny nodded.
"Yeah, I'd like that."
They began walking down the street together.
"Mind if I stop for a cup of coffee?" she motioned to the cafe down the block.
"Sounds good." Danny said.
They crossed the street, taking the last drags of the cigarettes.


****

"Babe, what do you want for dinner this week?" Ophelia asked, looking up from her grocery list.
"Ummm, I don't know. What about that eggplant lasagna?"
"Sure."
Ophelia and Danny had fallen into a relationship neither had seen coming. It was four months into the school year, and Christmas break was around the corner.
"So, I've been thinking," Danny began, "I know we both have to go home for Christmas."
Ophelia nodded.
"What if I fly up a couple days after, then we can take the train back here together?"
"Really?"
"I'd like to meet your parents."
"Nobody wants to meet my parents. I don't even want to see my parents." Ophelia laughed.
"Okay, maybe I just want to see you again as soon as possible. But they're going to have to meet me eventually."
"I know. I think I'd like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds like a plan."
He kissed her.
"Ready to go grocery shopping?"
"Yep."

******

Ophelia brushed the flour from her hands to answer her cell phone. It was Danny.
"Hey baby, Merry Christmas!"
"It would be better if we were together."
"Awww, don't go all cute on me, mister. I don't want to cry with all my family around." she giggled.
"I miss you."
"I miss you too." she sighed.
"What's wrong? Nervous about me meeting your parents?"
"Yeah."
"Don't think they'll like me?"
"How could they not like you? It's me they don't like." Ophelia said, putting the finishing touches on the pie she was ready to slip into the oven.
"It'll be alright."
"I know."

Fat and Ugly? Look Again.

You can't call me a monster
by simply judging my flesh.
For I've lain with a score
of Adonis's brethren
when those who fit your scale of beauty
haven't stood a chance, decked out in their finest.

Train Wreck'ed

Popped half a pill
to get to sleep last night
when the feelings like a caffeine overdose
screamed and I remembered
'this is what it feels like to be suicidal'.
It's been months since I've had a legit impulse
but there it was;
bubbling away in my veins.
So, so tired I couldn't move;
but the anxiety tore on inside me.
Almost as bad as that time in high school,
itching away the day at my desk,
waiting to get home and finish
my final test.

Anyway,
the pill took away the pain.
And I woke up this morning still floating.
Half a xanax hasn't gotten me high in years,
but this past month of total sobriety
has cleansed me of tolerance.
And it scares me that this is the closest I've felt
to normal
in years.
Because half a pill
dissolved itself, under my tongue,
and into my bloodstream.

I'm an addict in the making.

fuck you.

You can cry all you want;
I didn't hide a thing.
I wasn't lying
when I said
it was a line I wouldn't cross.

A post dawn rebound
doesn't mean a thing
but forgetting heart break
for a few minutes.

If the situation
isn't working out
that's not my fault;
my decision had no bearing
on your hunt.

You can blame it on me;
I know you will anyway,
that's the way
our relationship's always been.
Were you ever really my friend?