Female monologues about depression( a collection of 5)

The following article contains 5 female monologues about depression.

What is a monologue?

A monologue is a speech articulated by one character in a play or theatre, to express their mental state aloud or convey something to the audience or another character.

A rare collection of female monologues are listed below:

Monologue 1

UNBROKEN by D. M. Larson


You found me, cast aside, lost and broken. You searched through the rubble to find the severed pieces of my life, and slowly fit them back together again.

Before you, I felt like I was dying. The panic consumed me and squeezed the life from my heart. But I didn’t care. When we are weighed down by the torture of hate, we don’t fear death. There was nothing to live for… until I met you.

You rebuilt me and fixed what was broken. You made me better and pieced me back together in new ways that improved me. With the right parts, I was reborn… and life felt real… and right for the first time.


The narrator starts off with a very pessimistic approach towards life, as she says that it was the burden of abomination which subdued her will to live. She talks about a person who came into her life lately, giving her all the warmth that she longed for. She expressed the pain which engulfed her before his arrival, and acknowledged the fact that he fixed her agonised soul. She claims that she was reborn with a different outlook on life. It is evident that she was a victim of depression, which deprived her of all the chances to stay happy.

Monologue 2



 She had chronic depression, ever since she was twelve. Her father had depression, too. And her sister. And I was on antidepressants for a while, when I was her age. She was very high-functioning. She went years without any real incidents. She had control of it when she was in high school. And then, all of a sudden, things just… fell apart. She… spiraled. I asked her to move back home, but she said no, over and over again. She was hospitalized last summer. But I really thought that she’d get past it. I thought, “It’s just a matter of time before she finds the right medicine, or the right therapist… and things will go back to normal.” That day, we’d made plans to have breakfast. I called her, but she didn’t answer her phone. I thought she’d turned it off and slept late, so I went to her apartment and knocked on her door. It wasn’t locked. I went in, and… I found her lying on the floor in the kitchen… Why didn’t she come to me? I would have done anything for her. Anything. Didn’t she know that?


The narrator speaks of a girl who suffered from chronic depression. She had control of it till her high school, but then she gave in. She was hospitalized. On a certain day they had scheduled a breakfast together, so the narrator rings her up. But, she didn’t answer the call. On reaching her house, she found the girl lying on the kitchen floor. She was terribly shocked. The fact that the girl didn’t call her for help bothered her to a great extent. She was ready to do anything for her. Here, as the monologue reads, the narrator is affected by the well-being of a girl who was suffering from chronic depression.

Monologue 3

INNER CORE, by Joseph Arnone


Sometimes I stare inside myself and try to figure out how I can kill my inner core.  There are days when I wish to remove myself from myself.  Start fresh.  Anew.  Mop myself clean and start over again.  Keep the same outer shell but with new inner meaning and purpose.  Sort of like an upgrade to an old program that doesn’t function as well as it should because it’s outdated.  I desperately need to upgrade my system but there is no way for me to clean out my inner core.  It will always remain…the remnants of my past, the wires that have rusted and gone awry…they will always stay in place…you can never disconnect from your past self…we may try and act like we do but deep down, we always carry the same software.


The narrator is seen being confronted with a dilemma, regarding the execution of her decision to rebuild her inner self. She wishes to erase all her past and get a fresh start, though outwardly keeping herself the same. She compares her previous mindset with an old program that needs to be replaced. Despite her will to clear her system, she has no plausible way to do so. Gradually, she is convinced that changing oneself from inside is a tough task to be accomplished. The reason backing up this thought of her is that she can never erase her past in true sense. She may pretend to, but her conscience will keep on pricking her with the truth that they bear the same old “software”.

Monologue 4


(Janey is in a garden watching the stars in the sky.  She becomes upset when someone approaches)


I was hoping I could be alone out here in the garden. No one ever comes here in the evening. I wanted to be here for the stars. 


I don’t want anything – and I don’t want to talk anymore – can I please be by myself? That’s all you’ve done here – poke, prop, and pry – I’ve never felt so violated before – I just want to be left alone.


I don’t like being around anyone. I get upset when I’m in a room full of people. 

(Pause. afraid)

I get really scared – I almost feel like I can’t breathe – I just need to be alone, Doctor – I know you don’t really care – you’re simply doing your job – once I’m “better” you’ll be though with me – then it’s on to another patient – you’re just like anyone else –

(Almost shouting)

You probably haven’t cared about any patient in years – that would be unprofessional – an unnecessary burden on your conscience – Please, just go – I know what I need better than you –

You’re not God, you know – you don’t have the powers to cure everything – I know what you can and can’t do -Go on – get out of here!

(Pause – she gets an evil smile)



How can I relax with you bothering me all the time? If there’s another way, I’d like to know how –

(Pause. Turns away)

Is there anything else you wish to pry out of me?  No?  Good – then goodnight –

(JANEY starts weeding the flower bed)

I thought you were leaving –  Sorry but I’m busy – I’m killing weeds – Cultivating beauty by killing the ugly – it’s an odd practice – in reality its weeds on which the soil feeds –


But few people find the truth as fulfilling – If only you had planted something more useful – beans, or tomatoes, then the sacrifice might be worthwhile – but flowers, they’re more difficult to justify – Frail beauty – that’s all they are – cultivated for weakness – and has very little nutritional value – in the end they never can satisfy – always a disappointment as they wither and die – Frail and weak – a light frost would snap its neck –

(JANEY breaks the head off a flower)

So easily smitten by one little insect –

(JANEY holds up broken bud to a weed)

The choice is so easy for most – Yet it’s not – I suppose most people don’t give it much thought –

(Looks up at sky)

I know a story of a man who had a plant which most called a useless weed – it turned out the weed was a cure for cancer – but the weed was nearly extinct so no one got the cure – do you believe in such a thing? Do you believe in anything? 


Oh, never mind – I guess to you most beliefs are only fables –

(Throws both plants down – upset)

No one really cares, do they? They pay you to care – everywhere it’s the same way – People should only fix what’s broken – Why couldn’t you all just leave me alone? Nothing was wrong with me before you found me – I was happy at home – alone – shut out from then world – protected –

(Pause. Calms a moment. Grows sadder)

I had to be alone – I – I needed to hide – I had no choice – I had to get away – I couldn’t live like the others anymore –


Why do you want to know all this?


I said I don’t want to talk anymore! Leave me alone! I don’t have to tell you anything! I’m not a little kid.

(Bends over and buries her face in her hands)

There’s so much you don’t know – I just need to be alone – Why can’t they leave me alone? 

(She sees something)

But I’m never alone – There’s always someone – Or something – Around me – Following me –  They’re always near – Spirits – Ghosts – Shadows of the past – Ghosts have always been with me. Not by choice. At least not on my part. It just happens. I don’t want to believe… but they’ve forced themselves on me. 


Perhaps the old Indian woman did it to me. I lived in her house too long as a child.

(Looks at ceiling)

At night, footsteps paced the ceiling. Over and over, an impatient march, forever in step to a silent drum. If only this had been my only encounter, I could dismiss it. “The house is settling,” my mother said… but this wasn’t all the house did. Lights dimmed and glowed. Her ghostly will stronger than the new world magic conjured by GE. I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of, especially early on. My worries at seven far outweighed my need for sleep. Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother… I was always worried mother would leave me too. I wish the ghosts would go. But they linger. Always lingering. Never really gone. The old Indian woman was my first. She rocked at my beside, all in white. My eyes met hers. Her eyes giving me a worried look as if I were the one who had expired. Fear making my head sink deeply into covers. My eyes entombed by my lids. How long she waited, I’ll never know. By dawn I ventured a look. She was gone… or perhaps she was never there. Thinking the apparition a dream, I told my family and their eyes betrayed them. Others had known her too. Mother had a vision. She did not go questing for it though. The old Indian, young to most who saw her, once lived on this land. A servant. A girl died here, she at her side… at her side rocking… and the girl died. I wish I could have been there for her too… Spirits dog me. Just when I no longer believe, they appear. Flashing white lights. A cold touch. They return. Even now. But this time it was too much. Another place. Another spirit. This time it was someone I knew.

(Slowly turns to panic during following)

It started with the call. The news that she had gone away. Finding myself in tears. Tears sapping me dry. Would the tears ever stop? Pain like a thick metal pole shoved up your ass.

(Tries to calm herself but panics again)

I had lost everything. An emptiness replaced love, anxious to find, nothing there… no body anyway, but something. Something that opens doors, something leaving tissue by the bed. The dog barking at nothing… but something. Finding things in new places, things missing. The locked door… open.

(Tries to calm herself)

Explanations fly. Knowledge our protection.

(Thinks a moment. Frowns and shivers)

It began with the cold. Spots of cold. A moment of normal then cold, as if the heat were sucked into another dimension. These don’t bother me as much as the touch. A handless touch of nothing. Something grabbed my arm but no one was there.

(Pulls back in fear and runs. She falls to the ground)

I ran for bed, buried myself in covers and waited for dawn.

(She curls up in a ball. Pause)

You’re never too old to hide under the covers. Wrapping yourself up into a cocoon. Hoping that when you emerge life will be butterflies again.

(She sighs and sits up)

But only children believe in butterflies.

(She rises again)

Adults know… or learn… that life is full of moths, caterpillars, and worms.


But when I’m alone… fear sets in. I wonder… Do I really want to be alone? Maybe their visits comfort me.

(She seems to see someone else)

Was it you that touched me that day?


And if you are still here, why do I feel so alone?

(Sees Doctor again and gets upset, almost in a panic)

Please, stay away. She won’t visit me if you’re here. Please. Go!

(Turns back to the new person she sees)

Mother? Mother is that you?

(Sits up quickly – startled)


(Breathing hard – cries – the person is gone – she calms down) 

I’m sorry – I’m so sorry – There’s usually no one to listen – at least no one who’s willing to bend – Why are you still here? What’s the use of talking if it doesn’t do anyone any good?  

(sighs – doctor won’t leave)

Do you believe in an afterlife? Like heaven and angels and pearly gates – free of all Earthly strife – I think it’s a lot less defined than that – I think maybe we all end up a part of greater whole – a tiny molecule in a bigger being or a little star in a vast universe – we’ll return to where we came from – whether it’s God, the Great Spirit, or something else – but I know that’s where we will be – Everything around me seems to point to the same conclusion – “ashes to ashes – dust to dust” – where we begin is where we end – the Earth gives us life through what we eat and we give her life when we die – the source is the finish – rain that feeds the river comes from the sea – to each beginning there is a definable end – 

(she looks at the sky and smiles)

I know it’s getting dark but I don’t want to go back inside anymore – I don’t like my room – this is where I want to stay –

(Looks at doctor)

You can’t keep me caged any longer – The locked doors won’t hold me anymore – Did you know I can fly?

(She looks up at the night sky)

I’m leaving all the Earthly matters to you – I belong near a different sun –

(Points to a star)

I wish I were that star over there – The little one next to Orion – that way I’d never be lonely – It’s so free  out there – no one can touch you or hurt you – you can simply shine – People don’t like it when you shine – that’s why stars are up there and not down here – humans think the brightness is offensive –

(Pause – looks and smiles at the stars)

My mother is a star now – She always seemed like one to me – but stars don’t like it very well where they can’t be stars anymore –

(Pause – grows sad)

I want to be a star – stars having meaning – stars I understand – Now those stars up there in the sky have staying power. I can always count on them. I can always look up and know they’ll be there for me. The stars on Earth burn out too quickly. They have a moment where they shine so bright but then poof. They’re gone. A memory. Sometimes not even that. But with the stars in the sky, I know they’ll be there night after night, always there for me to make a wish. 

I make wishes all the time. I watch for the first star each night and say… 

“Star light star bright, first star I see tonight… I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight…” I always make the same wish, but I can’t tell you what it is. Then it might not come true. I really want it too. It would change my life.

I would always go to wishing wells with lucky pennies… Those pennies you find that people have lost… Unlucky for them… Lucky for me… Then I toss them in the wishing well in front of the old museum. And I toss them in the fountain at the park… Each time making my wish.

Have you ever wanted anything that badly in your life? So badly that you can’t imagine your future without it?

I would be so sad if my life wasn’t different… If things didn’t change… If I was still stuck here… In this life. But I won’t stop wishing… I can’t…

I don’t want to be left with nothing… I want some meaning… A reason why my life turned out this way.  I want this suffering to be worthwhile.


The narrator may be a patient of psychotic depression where she has hallucinations and delusions about the dark experiences of her past. She talks about sleeplessness and social withdrawal which are clear signs of acute depression. The monologue is an intricate depiction of a depressive episode of a person.

Monologue 5



Yes, you’re right. I have to toughen up… there’s always someone who has it worse than me. Sorry I am so depressed all the time… sorry I bring you down. I don’t mean to ruin your day… Or your life. I’d love to stop being depressed. I wish I could look on the bright side and turn that frown upside down. I wish it were that easy. 

You think it’s my fault don’t you? You think it’s all in my head. Yes, we all have this problem don’t we? We all get a little blue sometimes. I get very blue all the time. I’m so blue I’m purple. Don’t tell me you understand… you don’t understand! 

Do you really know how this feels? Do you really know how this grips me inside and threatens to rip me apart? Do you know the weight that holds me down, a weight so powerful I can hardly move. 

Yes, I’m using this to punish you. I am angry at you so I’m acting this way to hurt you… I need to stop feeling sorry for myself… Me, me, me… yes, it’s all about me… I want you all to drop everything and focus on me! I’m sorry I even came out of my room. 

Oh yeah… a nice cup of tea will instantly cure me – maybe if you put some strychnine in it. I wish I could just snap out of it… like it was some kind of spell a witch cast on me. I’m waiting for some prince to come along and kiss my tears away. 

Don’t worry. I won’t say anything anymore. I didn’t want to bring it up. I didn’t want to talk about it anyway… 

I bet you’re sorry you asked how I was doing. How am I doing anyway? I’m hurting so bad. I wish there was something that would take away the pain. I can’t handle this much longer. 

All I want to know is that I’m not alone… that I’m important to someone. Maybe I want a hug sometimes. Maybe I want someone to tell me I’m not going crazy, that’s not really my fault. 

I need to know I didn’t do this to myself and that I’m not the cause of this horrible thing that’s happening to me. I want someone to be here for me and help me through this. I need someone stronger than me… I’m so weak. I need someone who is strong enough for both of us. 

I need to know you’ll be there for me… I need to know you’ll never give up on me. That you’ll never leave me. That you’ll never go away. And I need someone to help me not give up on myself. I want to know that I’m important. That I matter. That I’m loved. Tell me that things will get better. It helps to have someone to talk to… it helps to say something… thank you for listening… thank you for not leaving me alone anymore. 


The monologue focuses on the narrator’s experience of depression. She is in a grave, isolated from the beautiful world. She wants someone to hold her hands and take her our of this cage. She wants to be stronger and hopeful.


The article above gave an idea of how female monologues about depression look like.

FAQs: Female monologues about depression

Can a poem be a monologue?

A poem is not the same as a monologue but if it is narrated like a monologue it becomes a ballade.

What will happen during depression?

The person suffering from depression may show symptoms like extreme sadness. Feelings of worthlessness and sleeplessness.

What is the state of depression?

Depression is a state of low mood.

What are the 5 most common mental disorders?

Anxiety Disorders, Mood Disorders, Psychotic Disorders, Dementia, Eating disorders.

What are the two types of monologue?

Two basic types of monologues include interior and exterior monologues.






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