Original Piece Monologue
|Original Piece by Unknown|
You ask me why I don't talk to you. Why I'm what you people call a loner. Well, I'll tell you. While you and your friends lived in your neat little suburban houses, I lived in this really crummy apartment. While you had cute little rooms, mine was the size of a postage stamp with a tiny window and cracks in the wall and ceiling. Not that I didn't love my room. I was so proud of the way I had fixed it up. I had saved every penny I found and then gone to the Goodwill and bought curtains and a lamp, a small mirror, and a throw rug. I didn't notice that the curtains were stained, or that the lamp was broken, that the mirror was cracked, or that the rug was dingy, I thought I lived in a palace.
While your mothers stayed home playing the perfect housewife like June Cleaver or something, my mom worked full time waiting tables at the restaurant on the corner. Your dads went off to the office every morning and kissed you goodbye. I don't even know what my dad looks like! There was just mom, and even she was working most of the time trying to make ends meet. I hardly ever saw her. She didn't care what I did as long as it was legal. You ask me why I'm not part of a group, why should I be? I tried it once and all they saw were the cracks and stains. It was then that I knew that I would never be a part of the group. That I never could be.