Monologue Practice: Trey’s Breakdown

After Simon’s funeral, This...this feeling of dread, of loss, just hit me so damn hard. I felt numb like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on me. Everything had changed, I felt so robbed. People seemed to notice I was unhappy... they’d come up to me and pour their heart out, tell me how sorry they were.

I thought I’d get over it, death is the most important part of life after all… that’s what my dad says to me every day, sits me down in the kitchen and tells me his life story, the uncles that got blown to bits in Vietnam, how he didn’t have any place to be sensitive. To just tough it out. I do that every day, but the guilt, the feeling that Simon’s death was all my fault just eats at me. My Mom knows, and she won’t get off my ass. Always asking how I’m doing, wanting to know every single sentence from every single conversation I hold. I can’t tell her, it’s none of her business, I’m sick of my dad’s lectures, I’m sick of the fake sympathy passers-by always give. I don’t want it. Everyone thinking I’m some sort of community service project, that my grief can be cured, that I can forget, I never will! I never fuckin will! Because both my parents think they’re right and I’m the argument caught between them. Because grieving lasts for life. Because no one can bring back the moments Simon and I could’ve had. Because...I just don’t give a damn anymore. Say what you want, just don’t expect me to listen to the crap that spews from your mouths.

I hate it.

I hate it.

I hate it!

I hate the feeling. I hate everyone. You think I’m another charity case Mrs. Therapist. You don’t have to tell me. I see you’re shocked, but you’ve seen worse. Why do you care, just so you can make another 30 dollars that could’ve gone into my parent’s divorce fund. IS THIS ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, TO MAKE ANOTHER BUCK, TO STROKE YOUR OWN GOD-FORSAKEN EGO. GUESS WHAT, FUCK YOU, FUCK THE BACKWOODS REDNECK, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.