JFK Inspirational Quote Monologue

We had to chose a quote from JFK, and create a monologue from it.

JFK Inspirational Quote Monologue

“When written in Chinese, the word 'crisis' is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.”

 

Andrew: I don’t know when it got to this point, I truly don’t. It seems like just last night me and my dad were just laughing and talking like nothing was wrong- like nothing could ever go wrong. Now every time I see him I feel like punching him in his stupid face. I feel like punching him until my hands can swing no more. That man who was once caring and loving for me, is now nothing but an a*****e. I don’t even know why though. It’s not like him and my mom have divorced, no one close to the family has died, nothing. He’s just morphed into this monster, and no one knows why. I suspect it’s the drugs. My dad has always complained about his age, he probably found solace in the drugs making him feel like he can be or do anything. He probably felt ageless, the fact that he was old didn’t even matter anymore, and just the feeling and burst of energy the drugs are giving him is putting him on top of the world. That’s just a theory. I’m sure I’m right. I’ve seen small baggies around the house, bags too small for normal use. I’ve seen him sneak through the house, and go into the hall closet, and won’t come out for about fifteen minutes. What the hell is in that closet that keeps him going back? What normal person just goes into a closet for fifteen minutes? I’ll tell you who would, a f*****g crackhead. For the longest time I tried to convince myself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, that he was just pumped up because he was getting over the age thing, he was just slurring his words because he what he was saying was so exciting that he couldn’t get the words out quick enough, that him passing out in the living room floor was just because he was too tired to make it to the bed….. Why is he doing this to us? No one in this family has ever done anything to hurt him, why is he hurting us? We got into a fist fight a few days ago. The drugs just take a hold of him, and you can’t say a single word to him without him exploding. He thinks he can talk to my mom any type of way, and I had to put a stop to it. “You need to watch the way you’re talking to my momma.” Did that set him off. He charged at me, fist balled up, and beat the living s**t out of me. I didn’t hit back though. As much as I hate him, I wouldn’t hit him. I’m much stronger and taller, I could kill him with one blow to the head. Sometimes, I think about that, just taking him out. Or taking myself out…

Talking and just thinking about my life stresses me out. I don’t know how I’ve made it this far in my life. These thought of suicide creep up on me sometimes when I’m alone in my room. They creep up on me whenever I have to listen to my mom crying because we can’t find dad. I feel them creep on me when we finally find him passed out in the backyard with a pipe in his hands. The only thing keeping me alive is my mom, and my other siblings. The last thing they need is a crackhead dad, and a dead son. I don’t know where we went wrong, I don’t know… I feel like my life is in danger every time I step foot into this house. My heart races anytime he is nearby because I fear he is going to hurt me. Not just physically, but emotionally. You know how they say only small children and drunks tell the truth? They should add crackhead to the list. He’ll look me in the eyes, and call me worthless. He tells me I’ve disappointed him my whole entire life. He will look at me and ask, “When the hell are you leaving my house?” I should be asking him the same damn thing! When are YOU leaving MY house? When are you getting your drugged up a*s out of my face, and my mom’s face? When!? How much longer do I have to endure the hatred brought to me by this man? How much longer do I have to let him abuse me physically and emotionally? How much more can a human take? I just need him gone out of my life forever. I need him to just pack his stuff up, and go. I need to hug my mom and tell her to find someone else, to kick him to the curb. I tried to tell myself to give him a chance, to let him do his thing, but try to get him help in the end. No more, I’ve come to the conclusion that I hate him. I hate his guts. I hate his attitude. I hate his voice. I hate the way he talks to me as if I still consider him my true dad. I hate his clothes. I hate his hair. I hate his everything. I just cannot wait for him to overdose and die. I hope the thing he finds comfort in, sends his a*s six feet under. I’m done fearing for his life. It’s time for me to start fearing for mine and my families. We can only take so much.

Even though he is nothing but a crackhead, abusing dog, he has taught me an important lesson. He has given me the perfect example of what not to be to my children. He is the textbook example of what I don’t want to be. I want my children to love me, I want them to look up to me. I don’t want my children to see me passed out and in a stupor from drugs. I don’t want my babies to hate me. I want my son to tell his friends stories about how amazing his dad is, like I used to do…. I just don’t want to take a step in the direction my sperm donor did. Calling him ‘dad’ at this point isn’t even worth it because I have officially given up any hope of him truly being a dad. It’s time for me and my family to pack our stuff and go. It’s time for me to be the man of the house I’ll drop out of school, and get a job to help with the bills. I’ll do whatever I have to for my true family. NO more will I make excuses for a man who has done nothing but tear a family apart. All these years of him being on drugs has truly given me the opportunity to see him for what he really is. It’s time to go. Time for me to be the man he never was.