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You often cross my mind. My friends tell me I’m crazy. Maybe I am. At times, it’s tempting to ask our friends how you’re doing. But I don’t bother. Tempting to call you.. but I dismiss it. You’ve moved on. I’m dating again. World doesn’t stop spinning. We’ve got our own lives.
I’ve spent so much time convincing myself it was you that fucked up. Never accepting my role in our demise. Accountablity. You would always preach that. Now I understand that we equally ruined us. Truthfully, I know that I never cross your mind. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You had no fight left in you. Can’t blame you. I was impulsive. Naïve. I deeply cared. You questioned that often. I wish you didn’t. I loved you the moment I met you. I’ll love you til your last
know you well enough to say that your life is not as troubled as you may think or seems.
Oh, how one as mighty as me be bewildered by a simple-minded beast. I am Gaston the best looking, strongest, and easily admired man in the whole town. My love Belle who is a little out of her mind if she thinks she could love a beast like him. I will show them. I force my whole enormous body at the beast making him slide off the edge of his balcony. As his large paw-like hands slip he catches himself by scrapping the shingles of the dark and gloomy castle. Weak. his claw grasps my shirt and my heart trembles. No, it can't be. Him a beast. For I am gaston the bravest of them all. But if belle could love him then. What does that make me? For who could ever love a hideous beast like me.
Dramatic Monologues The dramatic monologue features a speaker talking to a silent listener about a dramatic event or experience. The use of this technique affords the reader an intimate knowledge of the speaker's changing thoughts and feelings. In a sense, the poet brings the reader inside the mind of the speaker. (Glenn Everett online) Like a sculpturer pressing clay to form a man, a writer can create a persona with words. Every stroke of his hand becomes his or her own style, slowly creating this stone image.
Nolan narrowed his eyes at me, ready to retort but suddenly he shut his yap staring past me. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted our principal, Kay Pal, and his daughter, Janine. Next to her was a tall guy with black hair and dark blue eyes. I recognized him as Kayden Adams, Janine's boyfriend, according to Instascam--I mean Instagram.
I really hate that it had to come to this but i'm tired of being treated different and like an inconvenience. I've tried to talk to you and nothing has changed. Ive layed in my bed for the past 4 months crying to myself or Marcus because I had no one else to talk to. I felt like the only person i'm suppose to be able to talk to didn’t care whether I was alive or not. You hated on Marcus so much but he was the only one who stayed up with me while i cried. This seems dramatic but I really hated being at home. You really yelled at me all the time and half of the time i wasn’t doing anything. I was depressed most of the time which is why I slept all the time. To be honest I don't know if this will even bother you at all. But at least it will be easier and one less person to buy for.
Life isn't fair, it isn't kind, nor just. In my opinion, many people don't get what they deserve and many people don't deserve what they get. Like me, I don't deserve to be rotting in Azkaban for a crime I didn't commit but here I am. Wasting away, never to have a happy thought again. I'm only twenty and been here since I was 18, I had only been out of school 3 months before I was thrown in here. Sometimes I wish I had died, it's better than living here. I had no trial, no nothing they just assumed I did it and threw me in here to die. I may not notice everything, but I know something is going on. Almost every day some Aurors march past my cell and are taking someone with them. Then 2 days later they come back and return the person and they take someone else and the pattern continues. I have noticed that judging by their steps they go to the far back and are working their way towards the door. My cell is right in front of the door so, whatever they're doing I will be the last to know. Almost everyone comes back except Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy were never brought back. They weren't here long anyway.
Quinn's POV: I was uncomfortable with all this crappy situation. Dani was being nice and warm and close. Really close. I guess I asked for it after that good hostess act. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be happy if she hated me instead, but I was not delighted with all this friendly patronizing stance that Dani adopted.
I have been sitting there since an hour but she hasn't uttered a word. She seems to be lost in her own world, choosing to ignore me completely and there I was, sitting like an idiot striving for her one glimpse. I agree, it was all my fault I haven't seen her for two days neither called nor texted. But here am I now, after all, then what does this all drama sums to? A wise (obviously man!)
This is how it all occurred. Ever since your betrayal in high school, I have yearned to punish you both. That is why I invited everyone for a vacation. That way, if you died, there would be other people to get blame for your deaths. Nosy little Ria overheard me while I was making the arrangements.
“Ahem, Mr. Lopez?” came a feminine voice directly in front of me. I heard her clear her throat loudly, slowly tapping her fingers on my desk. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. I'd sure hate to be a bother.” Recognizing that disappointing tone of voice I internally panicked- my disguise had failed. I reluctantly looked up and locked eyes with my 7th grade math teacher, who was staring daggers at me. Before I even had the chance to mutter a half-baked excuse, she quickly reached over my textbook and grabbed the open copy of Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban that I had actually been reading.
Whether it was clean break or a complete mess, its over. No more five phone calls, no more late night road trips. The feeling of your hands intertwined, though still fresh in your mind, is now nothing more than a memory. What is real and what is now is the pain you feel. The awareness of a sort of emptiness. It’s like you’re in the middle of the ocean with no life preserver, being pulled down with each wave. Will you ever be happy again? Do they feel the same sadness that your heart is consumed with? Or was everything a lie…?
For a multitude of people, during their early years, people can be very irrational and crude. They can also experience many life changing events both beneficial and negative. I went through a very similar case, but luckily for me a light shined through the cracks of my dark, impenetrable heart to turn me into a different person. I was welcomed with a shower of warmth and this was the catalyst for me to be a better human being with morals.
I just want to let you know that I understand you were upset with me because I don't communicate enough and that you felt confused. The reason why I pursued you was because I felt like you have a good heart and we had a lot of things in common and could talk about anything under the sun. But I don't like to open up to people this earlyI understand some may see it as a flaw. But just telling people my older brother past 2 months ago is was big because I try not get emotional about things. And yeah I mad the mistake assuming that you were talking to other dudes. I just expect the worst from people because I once was a Naive open book and been taken advantage of by "friends" and ex lovers. And I've learn that sometimes you have to feel people
I was the one who wouldn't accept the people who tried so hard to reach me and in turn they gave up on
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).