Jane Monologues 17
Halloween. What a shitty holiday. Masks and costumes. Put on a face and pretend you're something you're not. I call that Monday. It seemed so easy for everyone else. Put on a crown and you were a princess, grab some pom-poms and you became a cheerleader. But I was doing it every day. Putting on a face as I walked out the door, trying to find the right one that would fit. The one that would let me blend. Sometimes Halloween made that easier, but most of the time, something I said, something I did, and everyone knew I didn't belong. Away I go before I ruin the fun.
I'm bad company. I mean, that's a given. Do you see who wants to hang around me? Of course not, because you're not here either. I don't blame you for that. I don't blame them, either. Ruin enough parties and you have to expect the invitations to end. The truth is, I don't want me around. I'm always the one to kill the mood or tell the joke that hangs and dies. If I don't want to live with myself, how can I expect anyone else to?
I'm running full tilt these days. I go through these periods where I fear sleep. I stay awake, late into the night and even into the morning if I can. If I keep myself busy, keep pushing myself, I don't have time to think. It's like not spending time with myself. When I hit the wall, when I collapse, that's it, I'm out. No having to spend time with myself, no having to listen. But I still dream. I let my guard down and they move in.
The dreams, the ones I remember, are always the same. Not identical, but the same parts, the same plot. I'm in a big, empty house. I know it's empty because I'm there, so everyone else must have left. And there's this mirror... my dreams always have mirrors. I try to go anywhere but toward that mirror. But doors slam shut and hallways disappear, until the only way is approach the mirror. That's how I know it's a dream. I get up close and I'm wearing a mask. It's a full face mask, which always were so uncomfortable. I take off the mask and I see nothing. There's no one looking back. There's nothing under the mask. I reach up for a head that's not there. I strip off my clothes trying to find something in there, someONE. But I don't exist, I'm not there.
I wake up with the cat and the blankets on the floor, and I've usually shrugged off whatever I fell asleep in. Usually I'm paralyzed when I wake up, but the movement returns, and I touch myself, arms, legs, face, making sure I am there. So far, so good, but I never go to a mirror after I have the dream.
What's it mean? Maybe my Id wants to sleep in the buff? Or that I don't exist, that I shouldn't exist. Maybe the world would be better off it I didn't exist...
I think it's identity. I have one. But it's a shitty identity. It's what I have for now. Maybe I don't have to like it- I mean, I don't have to settle with it. I can keep looking.
I'm Jane. And I'm trying.