Not As Bad Am I

This monologue was originally used in a sermon series titled "Got Satisfaction?" (inspired by "Got Milk?"). It explores themes of searching for fulfillment and a cry for help, paralleling the biblical story of The Woman at the Well.

Biblical Reference: John 4:1-26 (The Woman at the Well)

Target Audience:

• Particularly suited for an inner-city or AA congregation.
• Can be used as an outreach tool in certain communities.

Production Details:

• Cast: 1 female (20s or older)
• Costumes: Modern-day, appropriate for the season.
• Props: Minimal—setting should create the atmosphere of sitting on front steps. Can include a cigarette if the church is comfortable with a realistic portrayal.
• Run-Time: 6-8 minutes, depending on the actor's delivery, pauses, and emotional emphasis.

Sample Script

(Plops down on the front steps or a lawn chair.)

Actor:
Ugh, what am I doing—why am I even here?!

(Gets up, paces.)

Every time, every time I think everything is going to be okay—or it’s the last time I’ll have to bail him out… oooh!!!

Why am I here?? I could have stayed at my father’s house all these years for the same price.

Men! They are users and abusers—slobs—helpless—all of them!

(Notices someone passing—clears throat, “straightens up.”)

Oh, hi… yeah—fine.

(Sarcastically, to self, off to the side.)

What a fine day it is!

(Back to passerby.)

What are you staring at? Think you’re better than me, don’t you?! Don’t shake your head at me!

(Yells after person.)

This could have been you!! Just think of that!!

Too many people think they’re better than others. They can be drunks on the corner or in their mansions—
and still let someone like me know I’m a mess.

Like I need their help in figuring that out… come on…

My entire wardrobe is from Fishes (Local second-hand store/Salvation Army)—
you know, that little store with used clothing?

It’s really cheap—and clean—
and the ladies, they never look at me funny when I go shopping there.

Why does everyone else have to look at me funny—
or walk across the street when they pass my house?

Isn’t there something said about walking a mile in another’s shoes?
I wish those do-gooders would think about that.

I bet none of them had a dad like mine—
oh yes—Father Dear. Father knows best.

Yeah… Father knows best how to beat the crap out of his kids—or worse.

You don’t think I wish I had had a better life?

But what am I supposed to do?
My father never loved me—
or not how a father is supposed to love his daughter anyhow...

(Pauses, then suddenly calls out.)

Hey, you—yeah, you!

Did you ever cry yourself to sleep at night,
wishing you could get the smell of your old man out of your nostrils?

Did you ever wish and dream about a dad who would love you,
hold you with tenderness—
and not touch you with lust or anger?

No?

Then don’t be telling me what’s wrong with my life—
don’t you think I know?

Don’t you think I don’t wish every day that there was a different way?

But there’s not—
no one cares what happens to someone like me...

And there’s not a man around who has even bothered to take a good look at me—
a look inside of me—
see the real me—
and still love me…

Nope. They all want the same thing.

Sometimes a woman gets lucky—
finds a man with some morals,
one who will marry her,
put a nice roof over her head,
take care of her.

But most men just worry about getting their fill—
and then some.

Do you know how many hours I work a week just to pay the rent on this dump?
Or the food that goes into that man of mine?!

Leave? And go where?

Where is it any better for me?

No… this one just takes my money—
he doesn’t hit me like some of the others.

He just likes his meals just right—
and his bed warmed every night—
and he doesn’t like me nagging.

So I try to keep on the straight and narrow.

I feed him.
I pay his rent.
And I warm his bed.

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