Friday, January 18, 2013

Original Monologue - Girl, age 13 - 14

Girl, age 13 to 14

 Your first kiss is supposed to be sweet.  Or perfect.  Or tingly?   It’s supposed to at least be memorable.  I wouldn’t know.  I’ll probably never know.  Not that first kiss.  The one where the boy you like looks in your eyes, like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and kisses you.  It’s not happening for me now.  Ever.  Because I blew it.

 I don’t know if you noticed, but I talk a lot when I’m nervous.  That, and my hands get sweaty.  I think everybody’s hands get sweaty when their nervous.  But, you just wipe them off on your jeans and move on.  It’s not like it’s super noticeable, like say, talking non-stop.  And I mean non-stop.  Like an insane parrot that just can’t shut up. Not even when Noah Miller looked at me with the I’m completely into you look.  Not even when Noah Miller, the guy I’ve been dreaming about for weeks, put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer.   Nope, why would I stop talking then?  In fact, I talked faster.  It talked much that Noah Miller finally gave up and told me he’d see me later.  But I think we all know he won’t.   Why would he want to see me later?  So I can talk some more?