Instant Monologues
Melancholy Instant Monologue



SOPHIE, a fourteen-year-old girl, is sitting on the dock, watching the moon.


I've figured out the exact moment that everybody grows up. Maybe it comes at a different age for different people, but I think, universally speaking, it's the first time in your life that a soft, moonlit night makes you feel sad instead of happy.

(Shakes her head)

Not even happy or sad. Those are words little kids use. They only have one meaning. You need big words to describe growing-up feelings. Ennui. Melancholy.

I used to come out to this dock when the days got warm like this and I didn't think about the tall grass swishing at my knees or the way the water slapped the rotting boards, I just felt it, you know? And now, god, it's like even as I'm feeling it I'm thinking about how I miss it already, or how much it will hurt when it's gone. Does that even make sense?

(Hugs her knees tightly to her chest)

It feels like everything's already gone, or going, or not even really here. Every moment I'm anywhere feels like I should be somewhere else. I just want to be a kid sitting by the lake looking at the moon and for it to feel the way it does in books when the girl can feel the breeze and see the moonlight on the surface. Peaceful. But it's not that way anymore. I see the moon and it's cutting up the water and all it does is make me ache inside, like I might cry for no reason or run as hard I can to nowhere or explode into a million tiny pieces and I can't even a little bit figure out why.

Copyright © 2014-2024 by Savetz Publishing, Inc. Contact us. Privacy Policy. All the world's a stage.