#dramatic monologue

She doesn't deserve to live.

Facade, manipulation, lies, fake warmth.

After all this—

How can she ask to be forgived?

She deserves to live.

Assault, suppression, abuse, trauma.

After all this—

Doesn't she deserve to be forgived?

I stand in front of the mirror,

Ready to become my own reaper.

I look down at my trembling wrist,

Holding the knife tightly in my fist.

She is a liar.

She knows all the evil deeds he did.

Still—she lied to her own mother,

Never once lifting the lid.

She is a protector.

How could she tell her those deeds?

She was just a young kid.

Wearing silence like a second skin,

A foreign poison—she holds it within.

As the cold silver metal touched my skin, I flinch.

Why?—wasn't I ready to pay back for my sin?

I look back up at that girl in the mirror,

Holding her gaze—

In one glance, it feels like she wants to live.

In the next, it seems she just wants to give in.

My thoughts becoming haze.

I sometimes see the term used of any character in a drama. It’s not correct. They’re not narrators at all, reliable or otherwise. Well written drama just has…. people. Saying the things that realistic people would say. Of course their perspective is limited. Of course they say things which are unreliable. It’s kind of a people thing.

Another dramatic Starkid monologue that I've never seen typed up for if anyone needs a dramatic monologue :)

LEX: Well, let me tell you something I know! I’ve been working at Toy Zone since I was sixteen. I know what kids are like. When that Wiggly campaign came out, you know how many kids I got askin’ about it? None! Think about that line you stood in this morning, did you see a single kid there? It’s Thanksgiving break.

The thing about Wiggly that nobody’s talkin’ about is, kids don’t want that piece of shit! They’re all into Fortnite, dude! I mean, my sister Hannah couldn’t get further away from that thing. Yeah, me and Ethan wanted a doll- to sell! Whatever spell that doll casts, it doesn’t work on kids. And- and I think I know why.

Uh, Mr. Houston, I know your wife died, and you’re trying real hard to make up for it. But that’s something you want, not your son. You think Wiggly can fix this hole, but he can’t, it’s a trick. That’s how he works, he promises to fix all of the holes but he doesn’t. And that's why it works on adults.

Because you guys have more holes, you need more things and you need it harder. You gotta worry about your loveless marriage, or the kids that are gonna hate you, or your endless mortgage. I mean, you’re like forty, you probably think your life is over! I don’t, I’m gonna be an actress!

Do you get what I’m sayin’, Mr. Houston? Wiggly is a fucking lie, and I think you know it. But I think you’re scared, because if he’s not the answer, then what is?

The Closest Thing (Severus Snape’s Final Thoughts) By MythboundCal I never held her hand. Only my wand. My grief. My silence.

I tried to spare her. I failed. So I spared her son instead.

Not for him. Not for the world. Just for her.

Because he was the only part of her I could still protect.

I told myself that was enough. That I’d carry the weight— if he could walk free.

Even if he never knew why. Even if no one did.

I never asked to be understood. I only asked— “Look at me.”

Because her eyes were the last thing I ever wanted to see.

I was never a good man. But I was hers.

And that was the closest thing I ever had to love.

Is this a keyboard which I see before me,

the screen toward my hand? Come, let me type,

but I have not touched thee yet, thy glow about me.

Art thou not, electronic portal, as tangible as visual?

Or art thou but a trick, a keyboard of the mind?

A hallucination courtesy of this hangover.

Yet you hover before me, as touchable and

type-able as the fingers I am now using.

Thou tempt me unto writing, as I was about

to unsheathe my laptop before you came into view.

Mine eyes are mocked by my hands and my ears,

or perhaps they see things clearly, for you remain,

and on the screen I see lines spilling into stanzas

which were not there before; it is quite unreal;

it is the feverish dreams of creativity which

prompt you to appear; perhaps you are a dream

that crosses over the veil into daytime, a wicked

curse that celebrates its power over me like witchcraft

that conjures my guilt at having avoided you so long,

haunting me like a ghost; solid earth, stop listening

to my pacing the floors in lieu of engaging in creation,

and seize this horrible sensation; I know my purpose,

the idea lives, and all I do is speak of instead of do;

I must go and do it; the page invites me;

Listen to it not, for it is a clarion voice

that summons me to destiny or choice.

cf. My Last Duchess

BROWNING

That’s my ex-boyfriend’s work you’re looking at. He liked to make digital art; this tat- Too—all my ink, in fact—began as files On his computer. Bet they’d stretch for miles If laid out end to end, all his designs. Oh yes, they’re finely drawn, these several lines— But never mind the tracery on my skin. Tell me about yourself. Like, what’s your sin Of choice? One’s vices mold one’s character, I think, into such curious shapes. Incur A few like mine then, since you claim you’ve none. The worst of them? It’s jealousy: the sun At midday burns no brighter than my rage When I suspect a partner’s false. A sage Guess, that, but no, this boyfriend didn’t cheat On me; that’s not why we broke up. A treat It might have been though, to have caught him out: I rather like to rage and scream and shout.

a dramatic monologue about Lain

“Aaaa fifteenth minutes, that’s all it’s gunna take!” Oh how naive we were. We dreamed of going back to that time, two hours later seemingly trapped in this never ending cycle of janky bot games and rolling cars. Finally there was a glimmer of hope @uwudini had found the DBD mode and invited me to a game.

After a couple minutes of loading we where finally in, but what we saw changed us forever.

Impossible skill checks, Undodgeable flash grenades and stuns even though your five meters away (sorry). The pinnacle of this experience however, was @uwudini being chased by Not The Death Slinger TM and somehow picking me up and doing parkour with me on there back!

But alas it was all for naught, we hadn’t started the mission to get the fabled Dwight skin and so, after a nearly friendship breaking argument, we where ready. The mission was set.

Every this seemed ok this time around. (well other than everything looking and playing like Roblox) But when the match started the unthinkable happened, @uwudini was the killer. It must have been there punishment for not getting involved in my earlier fist fight in the waiting lobby.

It’s too traumatic what happened after but I escaped, the match was over, and this time we where finally able to claim our prize.