Monologue (excerpt from script)

I was on the streets for a very long time. Trying to figure out who I was, where I belonged, if I even wanted to belong. It was a hell frozen over, every night I could shut my eyes and pray that that feeling goes away. But the pain never leaves you, you only get used to it. It was like living with this sense of drowning in a pool. Every day I wake up, the sun would be shining, the cars and hustle bustle of the crowds would start up and I’d be completely empty. Barren of all promise. I must sound like a soap opera.

No

Well those weren’t pleasant times. It was hard, it lacked empathy, and it was cold. I mean it was really cold. The city in the winter, God, it’s like living inside of an ice cube.

There was this one night. Where the wind caught up, the streets were slick with a sheet of ice and the temperature had dropped ten below its usual. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t fall asleep. Usually I could just close my eyes and curl up like a rat in a hole. But not that night. It got into my head that if I got up and moved around a bit maybe the blood will trickle down and make things warm again. So I got up from my hovel. My castle of cardboard, plastic bags, strips of clothing and garbage. Yes I slept in garbage. You’d be surprised the amount of warmth old thrown out kitchen food keeps. And I started walking.

I kept walking even though it didn’t help.

Part of me was weakly asked to turn back

Go back to my hovel

Shove deeper in the refuse and try again to drift.

But my feet wouldn’t listen.

I got around this street corner, it was empty, the prostitutes had all found their beds, in a matter of speaking, to stave away the cold.

My eyes were clouded. Sleep deprivation, ice crystals and a weakening vision made everything smooth, soft and sparkly.

There was this door on the other side of the street. The light from the sign lit up red, a soft ominous red.

I stumbled over. I don’t know why

It was cold.

My hand found its way to turn the knob of the door and I walked in.

Jesus it was warm in there.

Literally there was at least a 30 degree difference and I thought

“maybe if I stand still, lean up against the wall. No one will notice.”

Sleep deprived logic.

I was wrong of course. I was noticed.

There was this man. If you can call him that. I don’t know why I didn’t just book it out of there when I saw him looking at me. Maybe because I didn’t care. And that it was freezing. That's the excuse I gave myself. That I was cold. That's the reason I didn't move.

Mostly because it was freezing outside and I just wanted to be warm.

No matter what.

To make a short story even shorter that night was and still is the worst night of my life. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for not running. For not going back. For not fighting.

I wish I had pushed him away when….

So no, I don’t wear a jacket. Even in the coldest winter I don’t. I need to punish myself for believing I needed the warmth.

I never needed that warmth.

No one ever does.