Soms schrijf ik wel eens wat. Dit is een theatermonoloog (daar had ik zin in).

A man calls a woman, but she doesn’t pick it up. The answering machine just beeped and this is what he says.

Yea, hi, its me, listen, I don’t really know why I called.
I thought I knew what to say but now that I did call, it all doesn’t matter anymore.
I thought I knew cause I had this talk in my head, you know, I just wanted to give the latest piece of my mind about all of this, but to be honest I don’t really give a shit anymore.
I don’t care if you want to listen to what I had to tell you, I don’t care if you ever want to see me again and I don’t even care if you’re going to carry on listening to me talk right now cause I’m not going to say anything, because its all to trivial, to stupid, to ugly… to fucking hollow.
I cant say anything, write anything, think of anything, with depth or beauty or something in it, because I’ve nothing to fill the void with. It’s all a shell, nothing more then a eh… little membrane of transparent glass that breaks the second you touch it, and there is nothing in it, not even a void, just emptiness.
That’s how you make me feel, hollow.
Maybe that is what I wanted to tell you.
You make me feel really hollow and empty and fucked up about all of this.
And I blame you for it, basically.
I never want to talk to you again.
Maybe that is what I’m trying to tell you.
Maybe I wanted to tell you that I’d like us never to see or hear from each other ever again, maybe it is good you hear this on your answering machine, that we don’t do this in real life.
I don’t really want to hear from you again.
I don’t even know why I tell you this.
Maybe this is a mistake, but I’d appreciate it, if you walk into me in a bar, on the street, if you’d just ignore me.
Just walk by, don’t wave or say something, just don’t do anything.
Let it be.
Well, if you get this message, erase it, and forget about me.
I want… what I want to say is... lost forever.

Guys hangs up.