Losing It

Losing It

A Screenplay by Shayla Sayer
"

a monologue

"

Tell me�"why am I here? Why have Icontinued to breathe, against all odds… I’ve survived. Survived what, you ask?A personal apocalypse, that’s what. My heart exploded, and then pieced itselfback together. This is impossible, you say. Impossible…. No, it’s a marvelousfeat of engineering I say. But you just shake your head and slowly walk away.And�"afraid to call you back, I sit alone. Tell me�"why me? So many have diedbefore their time, and yet I�"one who by all means wishes to simply end it�"I continue to walk this earth, ina body without an internal drive. My brain�"what has become of my brain you ask?Surely it is still functioning, still continuing its lamentable cause… and it is. I have yet to lose consciousness.Yet to sink into oblivion… Although it would surely be easier than you’d think.Just allow oneself to let go and fall into the black abyss… Maybe I will. Noone could stop me. Hell�"who would even care?! None… Save you. And even you havegiven up on me. Tell me�"why am I here? Why? I don’t understand it…. All I feellately is pain. And all pain is, is a corrupted form of love.

And I’m so very afraid of love…

© 2011 Shayla Sayer


My Review

Would you like to review this Screenplay?
Login | Register




Reviews

Wow, very powerful piece.I love the emotion in this one. Great job

Posted 14 Years Ago


I loved the last lines of this. A very interesting rant that makes me wonder...and wonder is interest. I am interested in why it is a "screenplay"?

Posted 14 Years Ago


kk

Posted 14 Years Ago


Lol.

Posted 14 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

157 Views
5 Reviews
Added on April 14, 2011
Last Updated on April 14, 2011

Author

Shayla Sayer
Shayla Sayer

Fontana, CA



About
i love to write. i have been penning down my feelings since i was 13. in my own opinion, writing is sort of like love and wine--it only gets better with age. more..

Writing

A Poem by Shayla Sayer