Friday, 22 July 2011

London Diary 48

Here is my monologue to the world about my life.

Being a woman it must naturally be about the fact that some man has been a lying cheating bastard, has scorned my love and ripped my soul from me. Or I am a psychopath and the voices in my head told me to kill he/she/it. Trust me, watch any film, see any lay, read any book, and when the woman has her five minutes in the spotlight, it will be due to her emotional or mental health being compromised.

So here is my soliloquy. My monologue, my own self analysis to the audience of my so called life. A life that is pitiful. I could blame a man, I could blame the kid, or I could blame my mother. I could blame society or those around me. My poverty, my class or my ethnicity. I have a hundred and one reasons, factors and leads that point to why I am here, pathetic, pitiful, scrounging for a living, leading a life that has passed me by.

You see, when you talk to us, we don't worry about why this man left or why I killed my kid. No, we worry about one thing. Cash. Where it is coming from, where it is going to and how much more I can economise. I am not going to spend my time thinking about dreamy stuff, because to be honest...I am struggling. Every minute of everyday is a struggle to keep afloat. I wish this whole world would tear itself apart, if only to give me a breathing space so I can get back on top...well, to get a grip. I was never on top to begin with...

So next time you are sitting in a darkened theatre, mesmerised by the immortal say things of that wonderfully styled actress on stage. Remember one thing...it is all an act...

1 comment:

magiceye said...

that was powerful