Dramatic Monologue

I am alone in this Brave New World.

Why am I different from the rest?
I do not belong to these guidelines and rules.

Do they have to stare at me as I walk by them?

They judge me and why I look different.

They all have their own opinions,

but I hear most say alcohol was mistakenly dropped in my blood-surrogate.

Oh Ford! How dare they say such absurdities.

Cannot one be slightly different from the rest?

Must they comment and remark on my smaller size.

So what if I do not enjoy playing Obstacle Golf!

And so what if I am alone most of the time!

Oh, if only everyone knew what I suffer!

I wish that Lenina would notice me for once.

Henry Foster speaks of her 'as a piece of meat.'

He wants to give her away for his friends to 'try.'

Ford, how I hate them!

I do not want a gramme of soma.

Ford, I should like to kill him!

Their laughs are taunting as they shout,

"A gramme is better than a damn!"

These women that give themselves so freely,

like the ones that follow Helmholtz around constantly.

I disagree with their carelessness, but I must admit I am jealous of him.

They never follow me or beg to go out with me.

Oh, but Lenina will accompany me to the Savage Reservation.

Lenina is different and special.

Different from the rest of this world.

I don't understand what the world is becoming.

The structure and the rules are an annoyance.

I know no other world but I hate these rules.

They are absurd!

The Directors do not allow such differences as myself.

They warn me time and again of my transference to Iceland.

Do they really believe that I will be frightened by that?

Do they think my life will be miserable there?

They really do not know that my life might be easier there,

with no one whom I would be forced to converse with,

with no soma and no feelies and no judgement from others.

Maybe I should go to this desolate island and leave this world behind,

this Brave New World of fear and shame,

this world of soma to mask the pain of reality.