A really rough monologue from, "Resist, But" by Julie Casselman, 24 Hour Theatre.
This portion was probably at about 5:00 am. But it describes the week I'm going through.
ANNA: I feel like I am stuck on this giant swing. But I can’t get down from it, because it’s so high up, and I’m afraid of heights. I’m looking down at all these boxes everywhere with labels on them. One stack is of these boxes full of photos of beautiful moments when I felt really loved. I can see a light pouring out of one of the corners of a box. And the other stack is of these nasty boxes that got wet or something, and they are moldy and I don’t even want to look at them. They have all these words of my insecurities written on them in big black marker. Rude. Scared. Unconfident. Unloving. Unlovable. And I try so hard to swing towards the nice boxes because I know that if I open them up there’s joy inside them, right? And along with joy comes feeling secure and not needing approval. But the harder I pump my legs and try to swing to the good boxes, the farther I end up swinging back to the wet moldy ones. And I think that if I just kick my leg out a little bit then I will be able to tip over one of the nicer boxes and get a peek at what’s inside and everything that I’ve been working so hard to get at. But I can’t do it and my legs are tired. So I stop pumping my legs and just hang on the swing. Midair, lukewarm, and unchanged.
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