Holly Kennedy Monologues

No, you’re not being stupid, baby. She doesn’t like you.

No… she doesn’t. I was nineteen when we got married. You corrupted me with sex and charm, and the longer it takes you to make your fortune, the less sexy and charming you are.

All I know is, if you don’t figure out this something, you’ll just stay ordinary, and it doesn’t matter if it’s a work of art, or a taco, or a pair of socks! Just create something… new, and there it is, and it’s you, out in the world, outside of you, and you can look at it, or hear it, or read it, or feel it… and you know a little more about… you. A little bit more than anyone else does… Does that make any sense at all?

What if this is it, Gerry? What if this is all there is to our life? You have to have a plan. Why do I have to be the responsible grown-up who worries? Why can’t I be the cute, carefree Irish guy who sings all the time?

No, it’s not gonna work. I feel like I’m trying on a new pair of shoes I really wanna buy, but they just don’t fit. Sorry.

Do you think it’d be all right if I stop my life right here? Become good Miss Haversham of the Lower East Side? Never leave my apartment till I’m old. Sit in my wedding dress…

It’s been a year. I don’t feel him anymore. I feel he’s gone. He’s really gone!

Mom?

When daddy left, I was fourteen, and I said… That’s it, never again, no man. And then I meet Gerry. This wonderful man happens to me and then, and then he died! What was the point?

I’m so angry I could kill somebody. I’m alone, and it doesn’t matter what job I have or what I do or what I don’t do or what friends I have, he’s not here. I mean, you’re alone, no matter what.

God. I didn’t come here for you to give me some bullshit honest answer. Why can’t you lie to me just once?

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

Gerry thought it was the best way to honor the dead… you know, show them how well we’re doing.

Dear Gerry, you said you wanted me to fall in love again, and maybe one day I will. But there are all kinds of love out there. This is my one and only life. And it’s a great and terrible and short and endless thing, and none of us come out of it alive. I don’t have a plan… except, it’s time my mom laughed again. She has never seen the world. She has never seen Ireland. So, I’m taking her back where we started. Maybe now she’ll understand. I don’t know how you did it, but you brought me back from the dead. I’ll write to you again soon. P.S… Guess what?

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