ISU Monologue:

My Selfish Soul

            I look outside, and it’s raining. It’s only a little, and the only way I know that is because I see ‘em making spots in the puddles on the ground. My eyes can’t see other raindrops, just the ones that are lucky enough to make it into the puddles.

            I’m real sick. My body’s always hot as the sun, so I never feel like standing up. When I finally think I get to go away from my body in my sleep, that ain’t so ‘cause these dark, hairy animals always come chasing after me. They don’t say nothing, but by the sounds of their loud, thumping footsteps, I know they ain’t here to hug me tight.

            I remember when my baby sister, Anita, got this sick. She cried and cried ‘till, finally, she drained herself out. Not even a single drop of tear was left in her tiny body. Mama didn’t decide to take her to the doctor ‘cause he’s too far; the closest one is two towns away. Mama knew Anita’s body wouldn’t hold up; he would just die. So, me and Mama stayed with her, as the dark, hair animals slowly ate her. I wonder if they gonna eat me too.

            I ask Mama the next morning if I am going where Anita went. She just shakes her head no and tells me to get ready to go to the doctor’s place. I guess she decided I’m in better shape than Anita was, so I can walk. Mama takes my burning hot hand, and we start walking. With each step we take, I get more and more tired, and I just wanna go home. But, Mama’s cool, soft hand tells me I can keep going. On the dirt path we are walking, I see the puddles from yesterday’s rain. It would have been cool to see ‘em decorate the path, but instead, they’re too small. The sun beat the water too much already; they are almost gone. I guess in the end, it don’t really matter if the rain drops are lucky or unlucky ‘cause they all get beaten by the same sun and go back to wherever they came from.

            When we get there, the doctor asks me questions about my body. Then he looks into my mouth, then eyes. After awhile, I thought he was gonna say something, but his mouth just turns into a frown. Something in his beady eyes tells me he ain’t sad or nothing. He don’t have no emotions. Then, he goes into another room. When he comes back, the doctor tells me and my mama he ain’t got nothing to treat me with. Mama stands up with her hands on her waist and raises her voice “Is that so? You mean to tell me there ain’t a soul that can help my child?” I never seem Mama this angry. I know she ain’t hollering for me. She yelling for my dead baby sister’s life too: the life she never got to save. But, the doctor ain’t scared. He doesn’t even twitch a muscle on his whole entire body. He just says, as if he’s been saying it for his whole life, “No, there are people who can help. They just don’t. We don’t have enough money to pay for their treatments. They don’t even really bother making them because this kind of sickness doesn’t really exist in their countries.”

            God, how I wish he didn’t say that. ‘Cause now, I have this knot that goes up my throat and down low into my stomach again and again. It’s the feeling of hope rising in me, but gravity pulling it down every time. I know these people won’t help. They don’t even know I exist. It would be so much easier if I didn’t know they existed either.

            On the way back home, the puddles are completely gone. Mama holds my hand again, but this time, it ain’t so refreshing. It just feels cold. As we’re walking back home, Mama just keeps muttering things like, “There ain’t a reason they can’t help, those selfish souls,” and “Just ‘cause we ain’t got no money? Those selfish souls.” She says other things too, but I can’ hear ‘cause the words just sound like mumbling. I ain’t got a clue to why, but every time Mama says something, it feels like the knot in my throat and stomach grows bigger and bigger.

            So you see, I’m one of them rain drops that didn’t make the puddles. It was dumb of me ‘cause somewhere in my body, I believed, even if people didn’t see me, they would feel my existence. See, I’m selfish in a way ‘cause why should my life have been one of them lucky lives to be seen? There’re millions more that are like me, like my dead sister Anita. Why am I any better? That’s probably the reason why I ain’t gonna get saved. It’s ‘cause I believed and expected something good to happen to me. I’m gonna die ‘cause of my selfish soul.   

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