Monologues About Racism

There are things in this world that I’ve never understood. Things that I know I’ll never understand. And right now, I don’t understand how one person can cause so much destruction. I race through the streets. My arms are swinging wildly at my sides as I sprint, tears streaming down my face as I stifle sobs. “Jedadiah!” I scream. “Jed!” People give me weird looks, but I don’t care. They don’t know yet. They don’t understand. It pains me to know that they don’t care what happens to him, but when their lives are in danger, they become so wholeheartedly concerned. My legs burn. I want to fall to the ground and curl up and die, yet I know I can’t. If I do, too many innocent people will die. I can’t live knowing I’ve killed thousands. Planes

It feels like it’s surrounding me. My vision is fuzzy. I want to breathe, but I can’t. “Doesn’t take much to kill what should be the strongest person in the world.” Something cold and sharp slides up my arm. I move the limb, my senses slowly returning to me. I can see again. But I don’t like the

I have to stay alive. But the evil man’s laugh makes it hard. I want to kill him. So many families would suffer because of him. I could stop that. “Bye, bye, Laura,” the man bids, and I feel something plunge into my heart. The last sounds ringing in my ears are my own screams. Then the world fades to black. I jolt up in my bed. My heart is pounding. There’s blood pumping in my ears that disorients my hearing, but I don’t care. I slip my legs over the edge of my bed and slide to my feet. I feel dizzy. My legs shake as I try to walk. Realizing I stood up too quickly, I lean against the bedpost and wait for the nausea to pass. Black dots spot my vision. I press my fingers to my temples, taking a glance at the framed photo on my nightstand. Jedidiah stands next to my mother, and I am in between her and a brown-haired, blue-eyed, aging man. Something strikes my heart. I flip the frame down so I don’t see the picture. I’ll have to cut out his face later. My father went to prison years ago for the planned bombing of New York City. Until then, my family had no idea he was involved with gangs and crime until he set off the first explosion. I was looking for my brother, Jedidiah, because I’d found out about Dad’s plan while he was on a tour with his friends. I had tried calling the police, but my father and his gang had cut all communication from the city. We were on our