I really need to find a monoluge for acting class and have no clue on where to f

Question:It has to be appropriate ( I cant be older then like 18)
And well anything helps. Thanks! :-)

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: It has to be appropriate ( I cant be older then like 18)
And well anything helps. Thanks! :-)

Here is a good website with younger monologues:

http://www.ispgroupinc.com/monologues/mo...

Some of them are quite long, but I'm sure you'll find one you like!

http://www.ispgroupinc.com/monologues/mo...

I have many...

Here are a couple.

I stopped laughing a long time ago. I stopped crying not too long after that. When I was fifteen, my father died. I think I killed him. I wouldn't laugh. I wouldn't laugh at his jokes. All he wanted was for me to laugh at his jokes. That's not hard. That's not a high expectation. What's so bad about that?

I don't know if he ever knew that I loved him. I don't know if he ever knew that - that I thought he was funny. (Chokes on tears) I loved him more than anything in this world. I don't think he ever knew that. I loved him. Two months before he died, he asked me to wear the whup again, I told him no. I said I had outgrown that years ago. He looked so hurt when I said that. It was like I was rejecting him, the childhood that he gave me. I didn't even care. I just shrugged my shoulders and thought that he had to move on. I was so god damned involved in myself.

I had to be cool, I had to be a teenager. I had to be defiant, and not listen to my parents. I couldn't show him that I cared. I couldn't show my love. (Angry) Then he died. He died and he never knew. He died with only the bratty words of a spoiled teenager in his mind. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say "I love you" one last time. It must have been years since he had heard those words out of my mouth. (long/dramatic pause, looking towards heaven). I love you daddy. I'm still your little girl, I'll always be your little girl. Hold me please daddy, just for a little while. Please daddy.

Or:

If you’re able to hear, please listen to me. I don’t want you to leave me! Everything feels so wrong without you. If you can hear me, please say something. You’ve been sleeping too long! Oh God, please give her strength. I want her to stay so bad. She’s the only one I have. She’s the only one I can run to, and hide in for shelter from the cold reality of our daily lives.

Oh Mary, if you don’t make it through, some things will be left unsaid. So, I have no choice but to say them now. I love you more than life itself. You are the only person I can truly talk to, and never have reservations about what to say. I feel like a different person around you, and that I can truly be myself, and like I don’t have to impress anyone. And that is the best feeling in the whole world.

Just knowing that that might be leaving me is killing me right now. If you leave me, nothing will be right. You won’t be there to save me from myself. Who will I call at 3:00 in the morning when something won’t get off my mind? Who!? Please, oh please, don’t go. Just fight one day longer, please. You’re the only one that makes my life worth living. So if you leave, out walks my reason to carry on. Every day will feel empty, and the only thing I will be able to think about is what we could have done if you still here. I will ache, and I will cry, and I will never be the same. So don’t go. I’m asking you, with all of my heart, please...

or:

My home life? It's okay. I guess most people would think my family's a happy little family. And well I guess... they are. I act like a part of this happy little family. But on the inside I'm screaming trying to get out. My parents just don't get. All they do is scream and shout at me yell and yell even louder. It's like their anger comes out on me...

(beat)
...this is hard. I've never told anyone about this before. I'm like any other girl. Afraid she's not skinny or prettier enough. So I eat a healthy breakfast, lunch, dinner... but, it's not like it stays in me for very long. My parents don't get it because they don't know. They don't know that after every single meal I eat... my head ends up in the toilet and my finger down my throat. They don't see it because they don't care. Sometimes I think they would have been better off with another son. At least then he wouldn't have some dumb *** eating disorder.

or:

You ask me why I don't talk to you. Why I'm what you people call a loner. Well, I'll tell you. While you and your friends lived in your neat little suburban houses, I lived in this really crummy apartment. While you had cute little rooms, mine was the size of a postage stamp with a tiny window and cracks in the wall and ceiling. Not that I didn't love my room. I was so proud of the way I had fixed it up. I had saved every penny I found and then gone to the Goodwill and bought curtains and a lamp, a small mirror, and a throw rug. I didn't notice that the curtains were stained, or that the lamp was broken, that the mirror was cracked, or that the rug was dingy, I thought I lived in a palace.

While your mothers stayed home playing the perfect housewife like June Cleaver or something, my mom worked full time waiting tables at the restaurant on the corner. Your dads went off to the office every morning and kissed you goodbye. I don't even know what my dad looks like! There was just mom, and even she was working most of the time trying to make ends meet. I hardly ever saw her. She didn't care what I did as long as it was legal. You ask me why I'm not part of a group, why should I be? I tried it once and all they saw were the cracks and stains. It was then that I knew that I would never be a part of the group. That I never could be.

or:

I would never know you. Just looking at you across the quad makes me nauseous. You are an obstruction to my view. Your gelled up hair and drawn on face, it's all bullshit. I see you in the hall, and wonder how it's possible that we've known of each other for eleven years, but never once talked. What is holding people apart? Why do we lie to ourselves, why is it that the artificial crap is considered beautiful? We're all believers in our own lies. We put the practicers of this crap up at a higher level. Worship them on the TV.
You move so carefully, you are trying not to break your little heels, but the heels are more solid than the fragile bones which hold you together. You are trying not to topple over like a clutz because your shoes are so high up. I don't know who taught you that this was beauty, that fragility was strength in this world of ours. You are only beautiful to the ten guys hurling their ratty faces at you. You are submissive enough for them to gain control. But the rest of the girls just admire you, wonder how you can do that, mimic your ways.

My friend Renee said you like looking pretty because that's the only thing you've got. But that must have been at one of your weak points. Why don't you let yourself out? Stop that polite giggle and fall on the floor in all the hysterical rage that you've felt for the past sixteen years. When some guy says something lame to you, don't act passive. Smack him. If I were really talking to you, if I had any guts at all to tell this, I'd end my lecture on a high note. I'd ask you over to bake cookies, go to a show. I'd introduce you to more sincere people. And then I'd ask you what it was really like to be at the top of the social scheme. Maybe I'd be able to understand this phenomenon better after knowing someone who was up there at one time.

Or if you want something lighter eamil me at:

chookiebabe@msn.com

if you need help to find another monologue or help acting it out or interpreting it feel free to ask.

try juliette..............in Romeo and .............