And I choose the Loonies

A monologue for a future play.

I am attracted to people who

don’t laugh with me when I’m happy

who blame me when I’m sad or angry

who do not have time for my questions

who don’t like me, but like me to listen

who believe I am delusional in every thought

who talk at me, not to me,

who want me as their laundry bag

who want me to feel sorry for them but

who never ever would feel sorry for me;

who see the purpose of me as to merely be there for them because apparently I have no right to have dreams of my own;

who insist I’m genius when that’s the biggest lie (but they say it to free themselves from taking the time and effort to understand me AND they say it to me so they don’t have to appreciate the whole experience of who I am, which is both charming and dark, sexy and bookish and childish all at once)

who declare me intolerable because they are not even aware of their own darkest feelings, beliefs, thoughts, impulses, conflicts, and needs;

who make me feel everything I say and do is irrelevant (but they do it in a way that makes them appear reasonable so they don’t get caught and can thus go on doing it forever)

who would never express their true deepest selves nor share their vulnerability with me (because then they would not be able to have control over me/ to be one-up bossy and judgmental and conditional in love and non-accepting.



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All things life, spirituality, healing, psychotherapy, trauma-related, & mindfulness. Occasionally food & poetry.