Happy Monologue Monday!! Today, I've chosen an old monologue I did a while ago. It's one of my favorites, written by Isaac Marion -- who beautifully writes words as a true poet in his stories, and paints a clear picture in your head about the reality of the world -- in the book, Warm Bodies.
This monologue is by Perry Kelvin, to R, after the lonely zombie learned to live again. It's a farewell telling R that this is their second chance. The world is changing, life is starting again -- so make something of it...
Perry Kelvin - Warm Bodies, Isaac Marion
I'm going now. I'm sorry I could't be here for your battle; I was fighting my own. But we won, right? I can feel it. There's a shiver in our legs, a tremor like the Earth speeding up, spinning off into uncharted orbits. Scary, isn't it? But what wonderful thing didn't start out a little scary? I don't know what the next page is for you, but whatever it is for me I swear I'm not going to mess it up. I'm not going to yawn off in the middle of a sentence and hide it in a drawer. Not this time. Peel of these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.
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