Soliloquoy project

The curtain rises, revealing great, roaming plains, as a light breeze rustles the trees. Swarms of bushes and foliage meld together and form a vibrant green glow while the sun sets in the distance. It is springtime, the time of rebirth. There are four teenage girls near a patch of trees. They seem to be identical, even to their surroundings with their leaf-like dresses. They are dancing, but the dance seems to be rehearsed, as if someone were watching. There is, however, nobody else in sight. Their arms gently wave in the wind and their legs gracefully leap through the green grass. The clouds grow darker as they continue their dance. Dawn turns to dusk, and the sisters still rhythmically move like ribbons in the wind. The second sister, although gracefully in line with the others, seems distracted and frustrated, almost ashamed to show her face. She stops in mid step, and watches as her sisters continue twirling and spinning in unison.



They tell me to dance, but why should I?
I’ll dance, but not because they tell me to.
I want to dance to my own rhythm,
And I think I deserve that, at least.
Why must I dance in unison with my sisters.
They don’t deserve an identity because they don’t want one.
But I want one. I want to be me, rather than being placed in
A category with my stupid, brainless sisters.