White Room Monologue

As a young boy I watched as my organ flowers disappear and I asked myself “will I see them again?” The space was trembling under its weight and I didn’t think anyone would understand how I was feeling. Organ flowers all decayed, and I will see them again.

Jane you're so negative. Maybe if you spent less of your time on Tumblr, you would know how to have fun.

Fuck what they talkin' 'bout All a nigga hear is my chains clinkin' back and forth right now, nigga Fuck with me Why the fuck you so opinionated? Sayin' how you do it but they ain't did it, baby

(Juan and Eva are arriving to a night at the opera and sit down to applause. Music starts. Eva and Juan enjoy the music until, suddenly, Eva doubles over in pain and starts gasping for breath. )

“Not ones our age.” I pegged him at no more than early thirties, but that could be due to the scruff coating his jawline.

In your eyes yet not able to see but still able to understand. Look to the past, not future, it's went way too far. We've skipped, we've ran, but go back and walk slowly, nicely. Don't miss a thing!

Mr. Frank: It is just as dangerous to hide seven as it is to hide eight.

My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.

As for the fate of the last white man, here follows the tale I know. Imagine the beginning of chaos: countries at war, cities collapsed in the earthquakes. We are, then, in the desert the day after the catastrophe.

“She spends what little time you let her be in the house with him. When you kick her out, she walks to the office and spends the day sitting at my desk. What do you propose we do then, Alice? She is still your daughter.”

I’ve played viola for since I was eleven. My freshman year I decided to join a youth orchestra in the area. I auditioned and got first chair; this was completely different from anything I had done before because I was expected to lead my section, not just play the music. It was stressful, I wasn’t used to talking with my section as a leader and telling them how to do things. At the beginning I was confused, but some of the things that helped me were having a positive attitude, being committed to the orchestra, and communicating well with others. I found out first hand that having a bad attitude rubs off on everyone in the orchestra. Many people only play in high school, then when they graduate they don’t touch their instruments, so by

The love you show to people and the love you freely gave to people, those love ones will remember you for that one thing. That’s how you will stay alive in your love one’s minds and spirits that you have left behind. For instance, my friend that passed away a week again, she was not a great person to some people. Well at least that’s what they think, but the people she loved, they will always remember her. Morrie wants Mitch to realize that just because people die, does not mean we won’t forget them (prezi.com).

Pink. Purple. Blue. How on earth did these three colours, I wondered, come to mean so much to me? Blue. Purple. Pink. I cheered as they came into my view, palms sweaty and fingers beginning to cramp as I vigorously waved my flag, an enthusiastic member of the sea of rainbow that surrounded me. Seeing those colours flying so loudly in procession, with such pride and determination, set my racing mind at peace. Finally, a place where my identity was not synonymous with “confused”, a place where I could fully express myself without fear of judgement or being laughed at. In that moment, watching as the vibrant parade twisted its way through the overcrowded Toronto streets, carrying with it the unique power to make all judgement disappear, I think

Red and blue lights flash outside the window of a teenage boy’s room. The calm atmosphere of the night is abruptly ruined by frantic shouting and sirens. Paramedics rush frantically in a blur inside the apartment complex and into the room where the boy lays unconscious on the floor. His body is curled up tightly into a ball, arms wrapped around his abdomen. His skin is pale and his face is contorted into a troubled and pained expression. Not far from the him lays an empty bottle of prescription pills and a half-empty bottle of rum. The boy’s family watches the paramedics lift him onto a stretcher before carting him out of the room with solemn expressions. The scene fades out into black.

My footsteps thunder on the frozen ground. My breath sounds like sonic booms. I’ve been alone for six months and twenty-eight days. I’ve been counting. I can’t remember what the sound of someone’s voice is like or the warm touch of someone’s hand. Surely I’m not the last person alive; I can’t be.