Getting There Monologue
|Getting There by Samantha McDougal|
In the back of my head with whatever small remainder of my innocence, I want a certain life. In no way is this life sick or sadistic. It's pure. It's beautiful. There's a large stretch of land beside a highway that leads out of this town and whatever I've lead my life to become. There are orchards there. Small and humble and modest houses. Houses where I wouldn't have a neighbor for miles. Houses where I wouldn't have to shop for anything because the only things I'd want would be just outside the front door. I want that deeply. So much so that I would want to die if I couldn't have it. I don't think I could have it. That place is heaven and I don't deserve heaven.
Those people we talk about. The millions of people who work hard and get absolutely nowhere on the corporate food chain. The millions of children starving and dying because they were introduced into a world spawned from their parents bad habits. Those people will never feel like I do now. They are not ashamed and they have no reason to be. Those people will get their heaven in some form or another. Mine is lost and always has been.
I think I mean this when I say that the biggest reason I hold regret is because I know that I wont reach heaven. I'm not talking about religion. I'm talking about a place to love. A place where I don't have to retreat into sadism or self mutilation for a single ounce of serenity. But I'm trying, I'm trying real hard to make it to heaven. I know it doesn't look good for me but I want to try and that leaves me with hope. However small, however pitiful it may seem, I can at least see what I want and there are no words.