I had to writing an interior monologue for class and I went through some other versions that I may share later… but this one was my best and made my whole class laugh so I wanted to share… I can’t help it, I’m a big fan of irony… and the title thing was because everyone was like you need a better title and well I suck at titles so this is what they got…
Writing (A Working Title)
I can write it. Come on. Just write it. I’ve written thousands of papers before, I can write this one. Okay, maybe not thousands but definitely hundreds. Well, never in this style before. But I can do this. Just think. I can write about my thoughts. I love writing about my thoughts. After all, I can ramble with the best of them. Now just put it on paper. Put that pen to the paper and write it out. Yes, see my pen is on the paper. Now hand, move that pen. Move it! Scratch out the words that I need to write. Damn it, hand, are you even listening to me?
New plan. What do I like to worry about? Blank. Now that is some real bull… shhh… don’t think that. God is listening. I worry about my book. Oh yeah, I could write about all the thoughts I have about my book. No, if I write that then it’ll just sound like me wanting to talk about my book. Like those really irritating people that are always trying to brag about the stuff they’ve done. Everyone hates those people. No, I can’t write about my book.
What about those times I got all crazy worried about hanging out with people. I’m always worrying about that junk. Endless thoughts on how whether or not those people really like me and I eventually just come to the conclusion that they all hate me and wish I’d go away and that’s why I just stay at home instead of ever actually socializing with others. You know, like that one time when I was trying to talk to that one woman and she was all giving me that snotty look like she was better than me. Probably thinking I’m just some loser who doesn’t ever socialize with anyone. How dare she judge me! But if I write about that, then they’ll probably realize I’m really writing about myself and then they’ll know I’m just some crazy person who has to give them self a pep talk just to go to the store alone. Better just leave those specific thoughts off the paper.
Hell, why not just write about how much I’m stressing over writing this stupid paper? Seriously, who asks someone to write such a thing? It’s ridiculous. When will I ever use this in life? Like one day I’m going to go out and say hey I’ll write this monologue about someone rambling on and on about some ludicrous notion that no one really cares about. Yep, that will definitely happen.
No, if I do that, the teacher will probably get all mad and say I didn’t really try and then he’ll fail me and I can’t afford to fail. Everyone knows what happens to failures. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next you’re in the dirt begging for scraps as the successful people that apparently know how to write papers go on about their life looking down on you with scorn. I can hear their jeers now, pointing and laughing at the one who can’t figure out how to write one lousy three page assignment. Three pages! So pathetic.
Seriously, just think of something. Oh my goodness, there’s something written on my paper. Perhaps my subconscious thought up something while I wasn’t looking. Nope, just the little doodle line that comes out magically whenever my pen is near a blank page. Maybe I should turn on the TV. There’s sure to be something on that will spark some kind of inspiration and then I’ll be off writing like there’s no tomorrow. What time is it? My show is on! No. If I start watching it then I’ll get distracted and this paper will never get written.
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts… Wait, shouldn’t that be think, think, think? Great, now my thinks are all thought up. I need to just get out of this house. Go for a nice walk. Breathe in the fresh air. So what if there’s a torrential rain storm outside? A little water never hurt anyone. Now, I’m just being silly. I am going to sit here in front of this desk until this paper is written to perfection and glowing with awesomeness.
I could go get a snack. Food for thought. Isn’t there a new pack of cookies in the cabinet? I should go see. Cookies after all are full of sugar, and sugar gives you a rush, and then the words will just rush right out of me. I’m definitely going to go get me some cookies. What’s that pen? You don’t think that’s a good idea. Well, stop judging me! I can eat cookies if I want. I could write about my longing for them. Oh, cookies, how delicious you are. That just makes me even hungrier. But how much could I really write about cookies? It pretty much goes “mmm, I want a cookie” to “yay! My tummy is full of cookies.” The End.
I’m going to fail. I’m going to show up to class and have nothing to show for all the effort that I’m giving right now and I’m going to fail. Maybe I won’t be the only one though. Maybe no one will write anything. Maybe the whole class is planning a riot. We will boycott this lunacy and rise above such petty assignments. Then why haven’t they called me? There they are planning such without me, allowing me to sit here and worry and struggle while they gloat about their plan to revolt against this tyranny. So rude. I’d call them. That is if I wasn’t so afraid to actually call someone and perhaps share my plans to refuse to do homework, on the off chance that they see such as being preposterous and then never want to talk to me again because I’ll just be that crazy kid who refuses to do their work. Judgers. All of them.