My Son Monologue

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

Momma always said sticks and stones could break your bones and word will never harm you.. But honey I'm PETTY. Honestly, I'm tired of hearing about you harassing my sister and family. As a result of your own unhappy, selfish, and evil ways. Your like a plague sweet heart your going slowly killing you're self from being unhappy and dysfunctional get it together. Now as for my brother sha he is a GROWN man that he does what he wants. Trust and believe though he's on his shit doing the damn thing as God is my witness he will prosper and we'll send both of our invitations in the mail so you could envy that too!! As for you Mrs Thot don't ever speak of my name as a freak girl I could never niggas wish but never could have. Let's just keep in mind

The horn has already sounded and I’m still running. I can feel my blood pulsing in my ears. The sounds of useless advice feels the air. I continue to run. I come across a cave and ran into it. I gasp in shock and as I walk into a lab filled with mindless people editing videos. A film crew rushes at me and says, “If you were able to be in Divergent, which character would you be?” I shake my head in confusion. I attempt to back up slowly, but they grab me and place me in front of a computer and yell, “Edit!” The slam the headphones on my head and everything becomes a blur.

I pull up and fuck your daughter, sike nah let me stop. I ain't 21 Savage and I ain't Lil Yatchy,

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious

Intro this monologue takes place in a small town in Texas its about a family of three the father mother and daughter. The father lost his job and became an abusive alcoholic and the daughter had enough listen to it, then the next morin she is in the sheriff’s office and her mother in the hospital with the father in the morgue. (The daughter has heavy accent and I tried to put that into my words, so some words will not be spelled correctly.)

My Dad Enrique has been in music for as long as I can remember. In my family no one played until recently my brother started to play guitar. I only had interest in music when I was little and in middle school I was in the school choir for 3 years but I decided to not continue singing in high school. My dad started playing when he was little at first hid family didn't have money to buy a guitar so his dad cut wood into the shape of one and the guitar pegs were nails. Later on his dad gave him a cheap guitar and a guitar book with Julio Iglesias songs. He was inspired my many singers/musicians like Silvio Rodriguez, Pablo Minales, Maria Dolores Pradera and many more. When he came to the US he had the opportunity to vent out his feelings of wanting

I have something I need to tell you. It feels weird announcing this, because nothing has changed. I feel exactly as I’ve always felt, and I’m still the same person I’ve always been, I’ve just accepted a few things. It  almost feels pointless to say, because it seems so obvious to me, but I think I should tell you anyway. I don’t know how exactly to explain myself, because it’s how I’ve always felt, but I’ll try help you to understand without writing down every thought I’ve ever had.

The cafeteria had always been the noisiest place in Geochang Middle School. Maybe because students were too busy studying and paying attention in class. Maybe because the 5000 square feet of space was the only region in the facility where they could breathe and let out the sparks that had been dimmed inside of them for so long.

He hadn't thought it would hurt. Of course, everyone had said it would, but everyone is not the Winchesters.

My drama paragraph: Your mother's "trying to help" days are coming to an end, and the time is coming to let it go. This is a final attempt to reach you saying everything conceivable down to the last atom of my energy. Being strong-minded (in your head) hasn't allowed your heart and spirit to listen and hear the pleas from your children, Grandpa, sister, and parents!!! If this last "try to help" as your "fairy godmother" doesn't work, your parents' twilight years will be peaceful, but with deep sorrow.

The heavy mint cream white fog pours into the room from all sides near and far. In the foreground I can see brilliant cherry red and lime green laser lights flood the room. The four strobe lights positioned behind me are all scintillating a pearl white, in a synchronized pattern. Hundreds of people all sitting out in front of us fill the whole room. The giant vermillion and charcoal colored stage curtains hang from the ceiling all the way down to the floor on the stage right in front of us. Then the giant curtain splits in half both ends quickly accelerating left and right.

After the drink, we went out for dinner. Field told me he knew the area well and there was a good Chinese restaurant in the neighborhood. He then took a short-cut and walked into a dimly lit alley. I was hesitant and did not immediately follow him. He turned around and told me, 'Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen'. Well, what could I say? I literally tried to shrink my slim frame and stay, actually hide, within Field's shadow/profile. Then I heard loud footsteps; the sound was going away from us. I peeked around his large frame and saw three guys, who were doing whatever they were doing in the alley, running the other way. They already disappeared when we made it to the end of the alley. Indeed, nothing happened.

I believe in the boys with bleary eyes and crooked smiles. I believe the in girls who roar back at the thunder storms and will forever kiss like the first time they fell in love. I believe in the people who’s skin never felt like a home to them,

As a daughter, this parable is difficult for me to understand because I am an only child. But, as a mother I can relate everyday it is a struggle to make my decisions fair. I have three children, and they all have different personalities. The girls feel that my son is my favorite boy, but him and I have a strong bond. He was hospitalized at four days old, at twenty-two days old, and became a sever asthmatic at the age of three, on Thanksgiving Day. My son and I have spent many days in the hospital, just him and I. I was there for his first broken hearth and his second. But, there is no difference over what I have done and will do for my girls. Being a parent is very difficult, but I hope I never come to a point where I am enabling my