“The thing is, I don’t understand you. In fact, I’ve never understood you. You make decisions based solely on how the consequences will affect you, only you. You love me one minute, then hate me the next. You tell me that you can’t stand qualities about me that you exhibit yourself on the regular. You blame me for problems you’ve created in your life, problems that it’s not even feasible I could be responsible for. You lied to people about me, in a most unacceptable fashion, thinking yourself safe and justified in your cruelty. I know you don’t see it that way and I suspect you can’t, not even with a magic mirror. Not even with me telling you, right now. And, right now, you’re probably thinking that I’m the crazy one, the delusional one, the weak and unhappy mess that can’t overcome anything without someone else to blame. But darling, that’s you all over. You in a processed nutshell. I cared about us, I really did, but you’ve pushed me out with such violent silence and emotional wreckage that I can’t even muster enough emotion over you to be angry anymore. I just don’t really care. A little, sure. How could I not, when I’ve loved you so long? But not enough to try to bring you back to me. If you want to go, please go. If you want to stay, you know where to find me. Just know that I know more about what you really think of me than you’d ever suspect. You should’ve kept quiet. Humans, in general, are not trustworthy. It’s a unfortunate truth, but in this particular case, it allowed me to open the drapes and see the sky again. I’m not by any means the only person who knows what you are, and somewhere inside that broken heart of yours I suspect you know, too. You’re not dumb, just blind. Unwilling and really, irresponsible. A lot of us choose to be blind. I chose to be blind, with you, and so did so very many people. But from that blindness came confusion, pain, sadness, rage. I’ve cried over you for what seems like years. And now that I’ve realized that I don’t understand you, I’ve also realized that I don’t really want to. You’re a wreck, darling. And you’ll stay that way probably forever. Waiting for you to change is like waiting for angels to rescue me from this half-life I’ve created to make you happy. To hide from you, and your inexplicable outrage at anything and everything that displeases you. I’ve got nothing left for you, darling. You already took away everything I had to give, and when that wasn’t enough, you discarded me like a piece of unworthy trash until you needed me for some paltry errand again. When you fall from grace–and you will fall–I don’t want to be around to watch. And I certainly won’t be there to clean up after you. Not this time.”
-Natasha’s monologue from “Humans,” a short play by Maria Berkovsky. Translator unknown.