A Monologue of Despair

"Oh, but don't go! Don't leave, Eliza, I'm serious. Dead serious! Oh, don't! Don't! Would you relax! The gun isn't loaded, it never was! You think that if we had any bullets around here I would still be having this discussion with you?! Oh, but Harry is too smart for that, no, no. He knows that would happen, so he doesn't buy them. Oh, but he keeps the gun, oh he keeps it in plain view Eliza! Right for me to see! He thinks it'll scare me, but know this, Eliza--it brings me peace. Sometimes at night, when those stars are up there, twinkling and winking and shining so bright that I can't catch up on my nightmares, I pull out the gun and lay on it like a pillow. Oh, don't be so alarmed Eliza! Why, this world has taken so much already, why not my brains too! Or what's left of them! --As Harry would sneer. You don't, you just don't get it! This place has taken everything from me and I have nothing! All my sweat, all my humanity, all my blood! I've bled so many times on this carpet alone that it's become the shade of wine I drink to forget! Rose. Oh sweet like a rose, Eliza! That's how I thought this life would be! And it's nothing if not six feet underground! And that's where I'll be heading, Eliza, that's where we all go, isn't it? Oh, and I cannot wait. You have no idea, little Eliza, how hard it is to keep your head above water when all you've ever wanted was to drown. Sometimes, I kick and thrash and try to beat against the currents, but my thoughts, oh! those aching, nagging, dark dreaded thoughts sink me further like a dead log! And I'm not even trying this time, Eliza! I'm not! But they're inherent! As if I was born and bred to die. As if my life was not to exist. And each day I wake up to these things, these, these, little disasters that plague my skull and on top of that I wake up next to the man who wishes these disasters were louder! So go, Eliza, go, get on with it. Yes, I know you care. You carry yourself right out that door! You don't need to worry about little Miss Texas. Little Miss Beauty Queen. I've got it all sorted, you'll see. I'll hold this cold, brutal barrel of this gun up next to my pitifully painted temple until I've gotten such a good imagination because of it, that it happens in spite of my cheapskate, no good, wife beating husband! So get the hell out, Eliza! Get the hell out!"