RIA'S REGRETFUL MONOLOGUE

 RIA’S REGRETFUL MONOLOGUE

 

(SETTING: A messy kitchen, the dim light of a single bulb casting long shadows, Ria perched on a kitchen stool, her eyes fixed on the kettle's steam swirling from the stove. The kitchen is enveloped in a profound stillness, broken only by the faint whistles of the kettle. Ria's voice, a whisper of regret and longing, fills the void.)

 

RIA (sighs deeply): God knows how many donkey’s years I have wasted sitting here in this fucking kitchen. Always watching, waiting, plotting…(pauses) Anthony. The fucking name itself gives me the chills and the stings. The fucking monarch. I thought I could bring him down, expose him as a fraud, and show him in a bad light so that I would rise in his place. But what have I gained? There is nothing but bad karma for my evil deeds and the bitter taste of my envy and bad medicine.

 

(leans down on the counter, playing with her hands)

 

RIA: I was so close to fucking stardom and greatness. I was beside him, privy to all his moves and every word he uttered. Yet, instead of trying to imbibe something and learn from his wisdom, I let jealousy and envy consume me. I became obsessed with making his life miserable, undermining and showing him up, in the thought that it would pave my way to fucking stardom and success. But now I see… it was a fucking path to nowhere.

 

(gets up from the stool and paces the kitchen)

 

RIA: All those fucking opportunities to learn, to fucking grow, evolve all squandered. I mocked him, taunted him, insulted him in the mistaken notion that it would elevate me to a fucking, higher strata. But it didn’t, and I painfully realise now. It only fucking highlighted my distorted thinking and failure. I have been told you fucking get in life what you fucking give. How could I expect to gain anything when I gave nothing but disrespect, contempt and hate? I am fucking lousy medicine.

 

(stops pacing and stares at the kettle on the stove)

 

RIA: This damned kettle is just like me. Simmering away but never quite reaching the boil and never transforming or learning from experience. Anthony… could conjure up magic with just a few essential ingredients. I could steal the magic and expose him as an impostor, but it is not something you can take. I often overheard him saying, enjoy the dish first, what it is presenting and conveying, rather than trying to decipher the process it takes to cook it. I realise now that this type of magic is earned through study, hard work, dedication, respect, and passion. It just cannot be snatched away.

 

(sighs, voice softening)

 

RIA: And I had the passion, didn’t I? It started with a burning desire but was twisted, turned inwards, and consumed by envy and jealousy. If only I had fucking turned all these adverse and dark emotions outwards, towards learning, towards bettering myself, changing my fucking behaviour, maybe, then just perhaps… things would have been different today.

 

(her eyes fill up with tears)

 

RIA: Now it’s too late. I’ve wasted all these precious years I could have spent growing and evolving. I also made sure Anthony too fucking wasted some of his precious years. Anthony has been the rock of Gibraltar, patiently bearing and putting up with my bad behaviour and misdeeds. He has moved on, shining brighter each day while I’m stuck in the shadows of my own making. I can’t fucking blame anyone for how I behaved. I wanted to be a celebrity chef, to be adored and respected. But now I fucking realise respect isn’t given. It is earned. And I fucking certainly didn’t earn it.

 

(tears fall on the ground)

 

RIA: I hope it’s not too late. However, I don’t trust myself to change much. I must respect the craft. I now have this kitchen and the memory of what could have been. And maybe, if I’m lucky, just maybe. I can still hope, can’t I?

 

RIA: Anthony, if any of these ever reach you, know that I’m sorry for having wasted your precious years and for the terrible pain I have caused you with my twisted behaviour, bitterness, envy, and jealousy. I realise now that you were never my enemy. I am my own worst enemy.

 

RIA: It’s time for the enemy and pangs of regret to rest and hopefully start anew. Time to turn this fucking longing into something productive, something real. And for that to happen, I have to take the first step: change my fucking behaviour. I fucking hope I can still be worthy of something.

 

(Ria turns off the stove, takes a deep breath, and exits the kitchen, leaving all her past and regrets behind.) 

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