Thoughtful mini-steps:

(The stage is dimly lit. A single chair sits center stage, but the speaker remains standing, pacing a small, invisible circle.)

“They tell you that time is a river, but they’re wrong. A river has a direction. A river eventually meets the sea. No, time is a room with no corners. You wander around, bumping into the ghosts of your own decisions, wondering which version of you is the one currently speaking.

(Stopping abruptly, looking at their hands)

I woke up this morning and my hands felt like strangers. Whose skin is this? It carries the scars of a decade I don’t remember inviting in. We spend our whole lives trying to build a ‘self,’ brick by heavy brick, thinking we’re making a fortress. But then the wind shifts—just a slight change in the air—and you realize you’ve actually built a cage. And the key? The key was made of ice. It melted the moment you gripped it too hard.

(A short, dry laugh)

I used to be afraid of the silence. I used to fill it with chatter, with radio static, with the names of people I didn’t even like. Now? Now the silence is the only thing that doesn’t lie to me. It’s the only thing honest enough to admit that it has no answers.

People ask, ‘Who are you?’ as if I’m a finished book on a shelf. I want to tell them I am a fever. I am a sudden thought that disappears before it can be written down. I am the space between the heartbeat and the breath.

Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look for the ‘me’ you knew yesterday. That person is a ghost, and I am the one haunting the remains. We are all just a series of temporary arrivals. And tonight? Tonight, I’ve arrived at the realization that I am finally, beautifully, nothing at all.”

©️ Beatriz Esmer