Depressed Monologues

Our Love is Just as Real as Yours

I can feel the pain in my foot. I can feel the pain in my knees. I can feel the pain in my stomach. I can feel my arms ache from fighting back. I can feel the pain in my jaw. I can feel my head pulse with my heartbeat. I can feel my body ache as I begin to lose consciousness in the alley between the school and my house. It's a five minute walk. I thought I could make it without incident. I sit here alone with my thoughts as I question why. I ask why someone would do this. Why someone would hurt someone else. Why someone would leave me here in the alley beaten and bruised while they ran off with their friends and were proud of what they did. Why someone would do this just because I love someone. Why someone would hurt me because I found someone who makes me happy and who fills my life with more joy than they could ever experience. Why someone would do this just because they don't understand. Just because they think it's wrong. Just because they think our love is different from theirs. Just because they believe it's not real even though our love is more real than theirs ever will. I sit in the alley and ask these questions as the blood from the gash on my forehead seeps down and drops into my eye and down my face. There comes a point where I can taste the rusty flavor of blood in my mouth. I sit. I ponder. But I don't regret. Nothing could make me regret my love. Nothing can change me. You can't beat the gay out of me more than I can beat the ignorance out of you. It isn't possible. I will suffer. I will push through the pain if it means I can be with the one that makes me happy. I can feel my vision start to blur as the last thing I see is your work down blue off brand sneakers that you got from me two years ago. I black out.