In the Tower- Monologue

Yes I am still alive and kicking even as Nanowrimo is coming to a close. So I decided to upload this monologue. WARNING: Contains adult themes and offensive language.

In the Tower

So now I’m going to die. Who cares right? Who cares about some guy lying abandoned, in the middle of nowhere? You are sitting there and instantly you are judging me without even knowing who I am. You are, don’t lie I know exactly what’s going on in your head. I must have been doing something bad, that’s what you’re thinking right?  I might be, but is it your right to judge before you actually hear my story? No, didn’t think so, now sit quiet, you might actually learn something.

Uncomfortable? Good, I’ve got so much more to say.

Let me ask you a question. Do you think all human beings are equal? Well its bullshit if you do. Of course you, as a civilised member of society will condone this opinion, but remember what the world is like; it discriminates. I’m a plague in your society. I’m a misfit that doesn’t deserve an education, a cancer to your healthcare system, a criminal who’s causing trouble in your lawful city and a benefit grabbing shit that is too lazy to work, stealing your precious tax money.

I can already read your mind, thinking “You should have studied hard, followed the law or at least cleaned up my act and grow up, get married and becoming a functioning member of society.” Sounds easy right? However, my life was a pitfall to the bottom of the food chain the moment I left my mother’s vagina. I grew up on a council estate. A wonderful place to raise your child in a run down, cramped, mouldy home. It was my castle against the gangs and thieves. If I wanted to keep busy I’d zone out to the TV, play in the nearby park (while avoiding the countless needles, cans, bottles and cigarettes littered in it) or cause some trouble.

Strike one.

My parents were a child and her abusive ape of a man. I’m surprised I survived. My mum was in la-la land, out on whatever drugs she could get her clutches on, Daddy coming in steaming and ready for a fight; let’s just say money was short between them. That was strike one. I went to school hungry, a lot and I got picked on for my clothes being too small, too dirty. I was alone against the rest of the world, no one wanted to hang out with scum.

Strike two.

Despite my upbringing I found an escape in books. Worlds filled with endless dreams and paths that I could take. My parents didn’t matter; those kids who bullied me didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore; I had an escape from my shithole of my life. However, after a while it wasn’t enough. I left school and as far as my parents were concerned I was a stranger in their home. The bomb of the adult world hit, having no job or home meant no money, no food. Suddenly books could do nothing to aid me, so I turned to something I knew would take me to a better world, just like my mum.

Strike three; I’m out.

So I took too much stuff that’s bad for you. You know what I mean, so don’t pretend you don’t have a clue. Heroin, The good shit.  Everywhere, from schools to hospitals, say it’s dangerous, illegal and to avoid it at all costs but let me ask, did they tell you how it felt? The euphoria, intoxication, the love, the highs and the…feeling of utter peace. No, of course not. They told you about the sickness, the hate, the lows and the hell. In the end none of the side effects discouraged me. I know you feel no sympathy for drugged up kid like me. I did it to myself, I didn’t clean up my act, I’ve sinned and there’s probably a spot in hell for me. Well fuck you. This is my voice in its last few minutes and I demand some respect. If you’re too closed minded, crack open your head a little to let some of your ego escape. I’ve got something to say about the people who don’t understand, that in a way this is not completely my fault. They never look down, because they think it’s beneath them to look and see the pain and chaos at their feet. They walk over everything, probably slip in shit from time to time. I have a piece of advice for them; better watch what you step on.

So here I am, dying. I feel no pain, the heroin has made sure of that. I tingle pleasantly from head to toe. Everything is distant as if I’m going deeper inside myself, cutting off the noise of the room, further and further my mind sinks. Maybe I’ll go to a better place. However, that’s probably bullshit too. I’m going down, because a lowlife like me may be in one of your castles, but I am far from a king in your eyes.

In the Tower- Monologue

2 thoughts on “In the Tower- Monologue

  1. Hello, did you receive my previous e-mail? I contacting you a few weeks ago in regards to seeing if you were ok with me making this piece into a short film? I understand if you don’t feel comfortable doing this, I won’t enquire any further, just let me know please.

    Thank You

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