Monologue
Vanessa Acosta
Monologue I remember everyday traffic, and I remember summer air. I remember people running to catch their buses, and I remember how calmly trees move their leaves with the rhythm of the breeze. But specifically, I remember expressing love and hate to another human being; or at least I don't want to forget it. Sometimes my head collapses with my messy memories, but ironically I carry them as the most priceless treasures. Being surrounded by four walls and a bed makes you overthink. Perhaps some people think a lot about their past and possible futures, perhaps others prefer to dont think and just live in the present. I would prefer to live in the present, but instead I usually get attached to my thoughts. I think that's because I would give up everything to hug and kiss again, and of course, to debate with someone else. I think that was the best part about human interactions; hearing another point of view different from yours.
But what I miss will never come back, because we mess it up. We killed our home, and now our abstract thinking is almost useless; now we act like animals. Now we only eat, breath and sleep. No more literature, no more poetry, and no more music; just four walls, a bed and my thoughts. To some extent I think we deserved it, we killed our planet until air was toxic. Until we needed to live in a box with artificial air. Sometimes I wish I died, but somehow I am “lucky”. Before getting in this cage, the government started recruiting people to these rooms. By that time a lot of people were already dying, and only families with high resources could enter these rooms early. I suppose a lot of people die, especially poor people. Until the end, the world didn't change. That's another reason why we deserve this, because we are ambitious.
I remember falling in love, and I remember missing his unreal and faithful thoughts. I remember my dad's bad jokes, and I remember how hard it was to face the radical change to an environment full of silence. I remember my sister crying for “insignificant” things, and I remember missing those tears that reminded me that humans are not robots. And I remember my mom coming from work to make me creative dinners. I especially miss feeling love; that type of love. I still love each of them; however, it is not the same. Nevertheless, that was time ago. I dont have the exact time, but now I can feel the wrinkles in my face. Sometimes I wonder what's going on outside these walls: “Are there people in charge of providing the food or instead this is made by some kind of artificial intelligence?”, “Does the government still control the system or rather every survivor is also living in a cage?” but these questions are nothing in comparison to the constant interrogant of knowing if the people I care about are okay.
I had 5 cactuses in my bedroom. They are not the type of plants people like to have, because to some extent they can hurt. Nonetheless, they are also able to make oxygen. In a similar way, humans are ugly; nevertheless, they are also able to fix. Not only through medicine, but also through art. I used to hate art, it is like philosophy (actually, I think it is a branch of philosophy). It is extremely nasty, because it goes in circles and it does not really get to a solution. However, even art drives me crazy, it seems to be the not-living thing I miss the most. How ironic is that, but what is more ironic is that art is that time ago I thought art was useless, because nobody was going to die in our society if art dies. But now it seems like the only thing that barely keeps alive. Art also healths. But we prefered finanzas and economics. In the same way, we prefer expensive cars instead of fresh air. We had the opportunity to cure, but we prefered to destroy. Now any notion of human interactions is gone to me (and probably I am not the only one). I only expect that some other people, such as I happened in my case, realize there is more than utility in life. We had hugs and art, now we have a bed and food, isn't that what I would prefered?
Monologue I remember everyday traffic, and I remember summer air. I remember people running to catch their buses, and I remember how calmly trees move their leaves with the rhythm of the breeze. But specifically, I remember expressing love and hate to another human being; or at least I don't want to forget it. Sometimes my head collapses with my messy memories, but ironically I carry them as the most priceless treasures. Being surrounded by four walls and a bed makes you overthink. Perhaps some people think a lot about their past and possible futures, perhaps others prefer to dont think and just live in the present. I would prefer to live in the present, but instead I usually get attached to my thoughts. I think that's because I would give up everything to hug and kiss again, and of course, to debate with someone else. I think that was the best part about human interactions; hearing another point of view different from yours.
But what I miss will never come back, because we mess it up. We killed our home, and now our abstract thinking is almost useless; now we act like animals. Now we only eat, breath and sleep. No more literature, no more poetry, and no more music; just four walls, a bed and my thoughts. To some extent I think we deserved it, we killed our planet until air was toxic. Until we needed to live in a box with artificial air. Sometimes I wish I died, but somehow I am “lucky”. Before getting in this cage, the government started recruiting people to these rooms. By that time a lot of people were already dying, and only families with high resources could enter these rooms early. I suppose a lot of people die, especially poor people. Until the end, the world didn't change. That's another reason why we deserve this, because we are ambitious.
I remember falling in love, and I remember missing his unreal and faithful thoughts. I remember my dad's bad jokes, and I remember how hard it was to face the radical change to an environment full of silence. I remember my sister crying for “insignificant” things, and I remember missing those tears that reminded me that humans are not robots. And I remember my mom coming from work to make me creative dinners. I especially miss feeling love; that type of love. I still love each of them; however, it is not the same. Nevertheless, that was time ago. I dont have the exact time, but now I can feel the wrinkles in my face. Sometimes I wonder what's going on outside these walls: “Are there people in charge of providing the food or instead this is made by some kind of artificial intelligence?”, “Does the government still control the system or rather every survivor is also living in a cage?” but these questions are nothing in comparison to the constant interrogant of knowing if the people I care about are okay.
I had 5 cactuses in my bedroom. They are not the type of plants people like to have, because to some extent they can hurt. Nonetheless, they are also able to make oxygen. In a similar way, humans are ugly; nevertheless, they are also able to fix. Not only through medicine, but also through art. I used to hate art, it is like philosophy (actually, I think it is a branch of philosophy). It is extremely nasty, because it goes in circles and it does not really get to a solution. However, even art drives me crazy, it seems to be the not-living thing I miss the most. How ironic is that, but what is more ironic is that art is that time ago I thought art was useless, because nobody was going to die in our society if art dies. But now it seems like the only thing that barely keeps alive. Art also healths. But we prefered finanzas and economics. In the same way, we prefer expensive cars instead of fresh air. We had the opportunity to cure, but we prefered to destroy. Now any notion of human interactions is gone to me (and probably I am not the only one). I only expect that some other people, such as I happened in my case, realize there is more than utility in life. We had hugs and art, now we have a bed and food, isn't that what I would prefered?
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