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This monologue is delivered by Patient 3 (Ensemble). She is a fellow
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I hear so many people talk about
how much they hate their parents. Well,
at least their parents loved them. At least they care
enough about them to try
and get them help, so that MAYBE
they can feel a bit better.
The injuries I came in here with
didn’t come from me.
They came from my dad.
This one,
this one,
and that one too.
While my mom wasn’t sitting back
and watching it happen, she always talked to me
about how I’m a waste of air, and how she wished
she had just aborted me.
So eventually, I decided to run away from home.
I had to escape. I was worried
that I was gonna die if I stayed in there
any longer. I lived on the streets
with no money or no food, and eventually,
after days of starving, I had no other choice:
I decided to go into the police station. They took me
to the hospital, and while I was there, they sent
a therapist in to talk to me. I told her everything,
and she just sent me here after that.
Now I’m just...
Y’know, actually...that’s all I really feel comfortable
sharing for now.
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