Queen (Monologue)

A prebook monologue into the mind of Queen. A chance of immersion in her psyche.

Life is not linear, nor are the people walking this Earth. I want to hear that reassurance from anyone other than my brother or my family. They can only say it so much until it loses its value. They lost the shine to their word vomit, despite the endless slop that spews out of their mouths.
I hate staying in the spotlight, the cheering and shouting sends shivers down my spine.
I want to forget it all. Allow it to leave my mind. I beg you.
What is it that bothers me that belittles me despite being in the presence of the perpetrator.
I can’t pinpoint it out loud, I need you to come inside and see for yourself.
I can’t voice it because it’s what is deemed forbidden, despite the feelings that ensue.
The flood of intimacy and love that is hard to come by.
Why is it that whatever I love, I lose. It’s so hard to come by and it was just my luck to stumble across it as a toddler.
The desire that hides behind my smile as I crawl closer to it in my dreams. The breath trembling down my neck as I grab your hand.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to feel and see someone reaching their hand out for me.
It’s beautiful, like a haze surrounds the trophy that I am so lucky to hold for myself. To have it for myself.
Desire strikes as society takes its stance.
Why is something so passionate and intimate so bad? Why am I the only one who has to sacrifice their true feelings for the general consensus surrounding my family, and my self-image.
I can handle myself, I can do it all for you.
Just please let me prove myself to you. Let me feel safe as I fade into your arms.
So comforting yet so dehumanizing, what is it about it that keeps me coming back.
I think to myself about the many possibilities that could explain my identity. I believe the nurture that it’s entitled to any child was denied, for me. I was shut out of the childhood duties to satisfy the people around me.
Why must I deny myself of pleasure, of feeling good about myself. Why must I deny myself of love that is so magical yet so defined by society as taboo and wrong.
Love holds your hand whether you like it or not, either blindly or passionately. It takes your hand and twists it for satisfaction. You must do nothing except obey, I know that demand too well. It haunts me as I seek out to explore the world for myself.
It watches nights pass as I lay in my bed, pleading for a new beginning.
A new beginning I want to be entitled to, yet I feel so distant from achieving. All my hard work is praised and cheered, too bad I don’t get any of the credit.
What’s wrong with me? I feel like I don’t ask myself that question enough. Sometimes there doesn’t even seem to be a response or answer, just a push in the direction I’m destined to travel.
How long of this push and pull? It’s quite literally a death sentence. I’m not in control and it frightens me. It frightens me because I don’t trust myself. I don’t know what I am capable of, especially in the name of love.
What is so pleasing about this that I get a kick out of teasing myself with the possibility of my goals being so close and attainable. I need you by my side, even if I hate your presence. I need you by my side for the sole purpose of holding my hand yet I worry your touch fuels my desires.