Dramatic Monologue

A Tragedy of Mixed Identities?

Please don’t stick that needle in my arm. Ow, that hurts! Can you please tell me why you are drawing blood, I haven’t done anything wrong.

I really don’t understand why I’m here, I mean you clearly must have the wrong person. Yes my name is Anna Smith, but think about how common that name is, it is a possibility you got the wrong girl. Yes, I do live in Brooklyn, but so does the rest of the population. Okay, you have asked me so many questions I can’t even keep track any more, so how bout I ask you some. Why the hell are you looking at me like I’m some crazy person? Huh? Don’t divert your eyes from me, I want an answer!
Look around you doc, do I look like any of these people? And please be honest, I don’t have circles around my eyes, my blood was clean, I’m not on drugs right now, all I’m trying to do is have an honest conversation with you but you can’t even give me enough courtesy to look me in the eye.

Look, these cuts on my arms aren’t from a razor, I told you, I had bug bites that I itched to the point of my arms being raw. Fine, don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I don’t cut to feel like I have some control in my life or whatever the reason people cut is, I have plenty of control over everything I do. I don’t need an outlet and if I get frustrated I go to the gym or something to work off my anger. So I’m not sure whom you’re getting your information from about me but they are mistakenly wrong. And don’t give me that shit that just because I talk to myself I’m a schizo, there are So many people that talk out loud to themselves and I just happen to be one of them. I mean come on doc, you probably even talk to yourself if you’ve got something on your mind you need to get off your chest and there’s no one around. How did you know about that incident? I was by myself in the bathroom; no one was around me so you must just be a lucky guesser. Would you please just listen to me! I’m not supposed to be here! I should be at home doing my math homework for class tomorrow, because that’s what I do; I’m a STUDENT! Not some crazy person who takes drugs and fucks herself up.

What kind of dream did I have last night? Your pretty typical, standard dream. I was floating among the stars, sitting in the milky way (which tastes like chocolate by the way) and I was having an extremely interesting conversation with my grandmother. I believe we were discussing the moon. Stop it! There is nothing weird or abnormal about that, it wasn’t drug induced and if you weren’t such a quack you’d be able to see that clear as day.

My home life? My dad left us when I was six and my mom has floated in and out of mental hospitals for a few years; the divorce nearly killed her. But that’s not me, I’m nothing like her I swear! All I want to do is go to school and get into college and be a doctor, so right now just know you’re fucking over my chances of that career; they won’t even touch me if they know I’ve been here. Will you please stop nodding your head and just look at me? Can’t you tell I’m not crazy, that I shouldn’t be here?

What do I know about the 70’s? Is that some kind of joke? There was a ton of shit that went down during that time, drugs, hippies, ECT, everything you can think of. What does that have to do with anything right now, really? What are you doing, get your hands off of me. I won’t go! You can’t make, I tell you you’ve got the wrong person! I’m not crazy, I’m really not, let me go now!!