The Worst Person in the World Monologues

The chronicles of four years in the life of Julie, a young woman who navigates the troubled waters of her love life and struggles to find her career path, leading her to take a realistic look at who she really is.

She said she was terrified of being alone. Terrified of living without him. That when she left, she'd be like Bambi on the ice. And that was precisely why she had to do it. Aksel mumbled soothing words she didn't hear. She was thinking about how, at the age of 30, she'd just compared herself to Bambi.

At 30, Julie's mom, Eva, had been divorced for two years. A single mom, and accountant in a publishing house. At 30, Julie's grandmother had three children. She played Rebecca West in "Rosmersholm" at the National Theater. At 30, Julie's great-grandmother, Astrid, was a widow, alone with four children. Julie's great-great-grandmother had seven children. Two died of tuberculosis. Julie's great-great-great-grandmother, Herta, was a merchant's wife with six children in a loveless marriage. Julie's great-great-great-great-grandmother never turned 30. The life expectancy for women at the time was 35 years.

Eivind turned it into a funny story he told everyone. But it touched something deeper in her. Awoke something in her. She googled her family name. Her grandfather came from the Far North. The DNA sample she sent to America confirmed it. Eivind didn't see how her newfound identity as 3.1% Sami connected to mind-expanding substances and unrelated exotic rituals, but tried to be supportive. As she became increasingly militant, she saw how climate change was hurting indigenous people. Inuit starving as seals vanish. Melting ice ruining reindeer pastures. Aborigines dying of skin cancer from the hole in the ozone. Eivind could forget about flying to New York. She made them live more sustainably. He could always do better. Study the ingredients more closely. Consider the environmental impact of his purchases. Plastic is killing the oceans. Norwegian cod was ferried to China and back. Cobalt mining was destroying the Congo. Batteries had blood on their hands. The sum of Western guilt sat beside him on the couch. Went to bed with him at night. Everything was weighed against the greater cause. He felt he was betraying Sunniva. Betraying the Sami people. Felt like the world's worst person, but couldn't resist.

Later she said that was the precise moment she fell in love with him.

Julie disappointed herself. This used to be easy. She was still among the top students, but there were too many interruptions, updates, feeds, unsolvable global problems. She sensed a gnawing unease she had tried to suppress by cramming by drowning it in digital interference. This was wrong. This wasn't her. She'd chosen medicine because it was so hard to gain admission. Where her excellent grades actually meant something. But then she had a revelation. Her passion had always been the soul. The mind, not the body.

She observed her fellow students. Norway's future spiritual advisers. Mostly girls with borderline eating disorders.

Eivind didn't want kids either. Climate researchers foresaw hard times for future generations. Overpopulation was the reason everything was falling apart. Julie liked how this pessimism added depth to his cheerful nature.

I always worried something would go wrong, but the things that went wrong were never what I worried about.

I'm so tired of pretending everything is okay. It sucks being in so much pain. It sucks. Everything sucks. I don't want to be a memory for you. I don't want to be a voice in your head. I want to be happy together.

You were the most important relationship in my life. You don't have to say anything. I know it's not the same for you. That's normal. You have many years left to live. But I know, I feel it. And I want you to know. You were the love of my life. You're a damn good person.

If I regret one thing, it's that I never managed to make you see how wonderful you are.

I wasted so much time worrying about what could go wrong. But what did go wrong, was never the things I worried about.

Well, you know... I kind of expected this. I'd given up long before I got sick. Really. I just watch my favourite old movies over and over. Lynch, "The Godfather Part II"... How many times can you watch "Dog Day Afternoon"?

Sometimes I listen to music I haven't heard before. But... It's old as well. Music I didn't know about, but from when I grew up. It felt as though I'd already given up. I grew up in an age without Internet and mobile phones. I sound like an old fart. But I think about it a lot. The world that I knew... has disappeared. For me it was all about going to stores. Record stores. I'd take the tram to Voices in Grünerløkka. Leaf through used comics at Pretty Price. I can close my eyes and see the aisles at Video Nova in Majorstua. I grew up in a time when culture was passed along through objects. They were interesting because... we could live among them. We could pick them up. Hold them in our hands. Compare them.

Yeah, a bit like books. That's all I have. I spent my life doing that. Collecting all that stuff, comics, books... And I just continued, even when it stopped giving me the powerful emotions I felt in my early 20s. I continued anyway. And now it's all I have left. Knowledge and memories of stupid, futile things nobody cares about.

Yeah, but I've got cancer. I'm dying. Of course I'm being retrospective.

Not for that long. In recent years. I reached a point in life when suddenly... It just happened. When... when... I began to worship what had been. And now I have nothing else. I have no future. I can only look back. And... It's not even nostalgia. It's... Fear of death. It's because I'm scared. It has nothing to do with art. I'm just trying to process.

I have imaginary conversations with you.

If we go on, I'll fall in love with you. Then it'll be too late. Maybe we should agree to... stop seeing each other. The problem is our age difference. I'm just afraid we'll fall into a vicious circle. You're much younger than I am. You'll start to question who you are. I'm past 40. I've entered a new phase. Whereas you still need time to find yourself. You don't need me waiting. You need to be completely free. I'm just afraid we'll hurt each other.

I remember these colours. They were always my reference when I drew my comics. These coulours.

If he's a kind man, then go for it. With a kind father, and you as the mother, everything will be fine.

Language opens the door to the subconscious. Freud was a great writer. He could be self-critical. He never hesitated to revise his theories. He viewed each individual patient as a research subject. Freud didn't distinguish between therapy and research. I find that very compelling. Especially these days, when scientific methodology is applied even in the humanities.

Most people have kids without sorting out their life first. They figure it out.

It started with a backache. I've had backaches before. I didn't worry. Then my skin turned almost golden. I thought I looked good. It turned out to be jaundice.

It's, you know… the butthole. The anus. His butt is smooth in the movie. This thing is gone. That's bad in my book. In underground comics you shit, you puke, you fuck and all that stuff. Bobcat is a wild cat in a world of domestic cats. He's a rebel against the bourgeoisie. One of the most iconic buttholes ever.

The World I knew has disappeared.

I lied and said I forgot my sunglasses.