I Am A Camera Monologue
|I Am A Camera by John Van Druten|
You know, Chris, in some ways now I wish I'd had that kid. The last day or two, I've been sort of feeling what it would be like to be a mother. Do you know, last night I sat here for a long time by myself, and held this teddy bear in my arms, and imagined it was my baby. I felt a most marvelous sort of shut-off feeling from the rest of the world. I imagined how it would grow up, and how after I'd put it to bed at nights, I'd go out and make love to filthy old men to get money to pay for it's clothes and food. No, I wouldn't think of myself at all- just it. It must be rather wonderful never to think of yourself, only of someone else. I suppose that's what people mean by religion. Do you think I could be a nun, Chris? I really rather think I could. All pale and pious, singing sort of faint and lovely hymns all day long. (beat) I feel as though I'd lost faith in men. Even you, Christopher, if you were to go out in the street now, and be run over by a taxi, I should be sorry in a way, of course, but I shouldn't really care a damn. Oh, I didn't mean that, of course, darling, at least, not personally. You mustn't mind what I say when I'm like this. I see now why people say operations liek that are wrong. They are. You know, the whole business of having children is all wrong. It's a most wonderful ting, and it ought to come from something rare, and special, and sort of privileged, instead of just... that!