The Psychic Life of Savages
By Amy FreedAnne is a disturbed poet who has been hospitalized earlier in the play because of her suicide attempts. This monologue is Scene Five. Anne's bedroom. Anne sits on the bed. Her nightstand holds her vodka bottle and a multitude of prescription bottles. She's drunk, but steady. She is preparing to kill herself.
ANNE:
Most gals would dress in their best black for the most important date of their lives. Not me. For you, Honey, I'm putting on the softest blue dress with a mauve scarf. I've always known that you like the most tender colors.
Just make yourself comfortable. I won't be long. The thing I like about you is, I don't have to maintain any mystery. We've been intimate for years. I've always thought you were a real softy. The one that loved a girl for what she was inside. You really want to get inside. Not just inside the way most guys want to, but you want to tear a girl apart the way other men only dream of. And I'll tell you what. I don't think it will be so bad. Men all say I'll love you when you're old, but they only like to say it to you when you're really young. They can't do it, poor things, they'd like to but they just can't. But you. You've been gentle, you've been slow. But you've rained your constant acid kisses down on my poor flesh since the day I first bloomed. And now I understand that it's because you love me. You love me so truly you've been sucking me out of myself. Blasting my body so that I'll leave it, finally, to be with you. You want to eat me. Well, I surrender. I don't know what it will be like. But I think maybe you know more about this than I.
(Starts swallowing pills by the handful.)
Order The Psychic Life of Savages published in Women Playwrights: The Best of 2003, from Amazon.
This monologue brought to you by The Monologue Database.