ACTRL - A Monologue on Loss and Resilience

(The stage is dimly lit. A lone figure, JANE, stands at the center, gazing at something in the distance. Her body is tense, as if she’s holding something back. She speaks slowly and chooses each word carefully, as though they weigh heavily on her.) JANE: You know, they never say how tough it is to hold everything together. (Pauses, takes a breath, collects herself.) I remember the day... the last day I saw him. It feels like ages ago, but the weight of it? The weight never really goes away. It’s like a shadow that follows me, even in the brightest moments. (She shifts slightly, her eyes shimmering, but she forces herself to stand tall.) I kept asking myself why. Why him? Why me? Why now? All those questions don’t bring answers. They just spin around in your head like a record stuck on one note. You try to ignore the noise. You tell yourself it’s time to move on; time to heal. (Her hands tremble slightly, but she steadies them by gripping the edges of her dress.) But what they don’t tell you is that grief is like a storm. It doesn’t just pass. It hits you when you least expect it, sometimes when you think you’re doing fine. And then you’re left there, drenched, heart heavy, feeling like you can’t breathe. Like you’ve forgotten how to move. (She smiles faintly, a bitter, hollow smile.) But somehow, you do. You move. You keep breathing. Because what else can you do? What else is there to hold on to if not the hope that tomorrow might be different? (She stands straighter, a shift in her posture, a deep, almost imperceptible exhale as she gains a small measure of strength.) You keep moving because you know, deep down, there’s something in you. Something strong enough to carry the weight. Maybe not forever. Maybe just for today. But that’s enough. For now. It has to be. (She lowers her gaze, then looks up again with quiet, determined strength.) I’ll carry him in me. Always. But I’ll keep moving forward. I have to. (She pauses and looks down, her hand moving slowly to her chest, then out, releasing the tension in her body. The weight of her words settles, leaving her silently standing in the glow of the stage light.)