Monologe

 “Yo Spit! Where you at?” Blast in my ears

(Huffs) The desert is dry and deserted like the inside of my head, my soul, and my body. “Yo Spit! Where you at?”(Echoes in my head still) I know my damn name. I’m a young girl, with chipped nail polish, ashy feet, curled up toes with sand particle in between them (Looks at her feet). I have burnt color skin, thick, tangled hair, with scars that can run on for miles (rubs her face, and body). It’s dry out here, nothing to do. It seems so free, free enough to be me. I’m trapped. Abandoned with my own self. (Scratches head) So die, to die, no water, why not die? A young savage, a young failure, a young loser (deep breathe). Still the words “Yo Spit! Where you at?” lingers in my head.

I’m by myself so why not die? No mother! No more hitting, no more scars. No more red leakage from my busted face, and body.  Life moves in slow motion as I try to get away from my mother tight grip, and cigarette smoke. I’m trapped. No daddy! No more dope dealing, selling my body, and making money the fast way. My daddy taught me how to do it all, I make a buck fifty an hour. No more pain? Pain, oh I know pain.

I’m trapped. No more friends! No stealing, robbing, killing, hurting people. My crew and I have people shaking. What we want, we get. But still, I’m trapped. No uncle! He loves me, he tells me everyday. He lays me down, and does things I don’t like, but he loves me. I’m trapped. (Counts on fingers) I got me, myself, and I got my desert. I’m trapped. I want to stay trapped. I have to come out sometime. Because these damn words won’t leave my head “Yo Spit! Where you at?”

Back to my mom, dad, friends, and uncle. Back to scars, dope, prostitution, and stealing. I portray a life I don’t want. My desert will be here, my closet, under my bed, my roof, and inside a box. My desert is everywhere life isn’t hurting me. Oh! My desert will be here. Ready for the next girl, that can’t stand to look at her self in the mirror. Prepared for the next boy, that gets abused, and have black eyes, and deep bloody cut marks. Setup for the next teen, which lives a life of hurt. I am a young girl that hates her life. I’m trapped in reality, with everyone and everything I hate. (Balls fist up) So die, to die, why not die? (Tear)