Monologue

Paul is in his room, quietly contemplating his temporary return home from the war. He is still, but his face is thoughtful and bothered. It is nighttime, and he is sitting in the darkness.

Taking a leave from this war was like trying to go back to sleep after realizing the dream you thought was real was just an illusion. You can't go back to that dream again, its gone. (snaps ) Just like that. How can you describe that to someone who is still sleeping, who doesn't know how precious silence is. I can't wake them up. When your out there you finally realize it. Its the constant muffled sound of bullets whizzing by, of shouts and airplanes. Sitting here is like trying to pick up right where I left off. But I'm not the same Paul, (laughs) and it seems so ridiculous to think all I had cared about before were my books and the words. Those MEANINGLESS words. How can I care about desires and love when I'm busy trying to avoid death?