A Monologue by Jean-Pierre Martinez
Is there anyone here? No… So you’re like me. You also haven’t quite managed to become someone. Being the son of nobody is still acceptable. Some have even become very famous. But who remembers the parents of the son of nobody? Nobody does. Since I entered this world, I’ve always been told: if you want to become someone in life, don’t do just anything. And trust me, those who told me this were not just anybody. So I tried to make something of myself. To become someone, like them. But I haven’t achieved anything, I know that well. I never knew what to do with myself. I’m quite a character, as they say. A rather odd character, some would argue. I must not have done what was needed. So, I do what I can. I put on a show. I’m a bit of an actor, as they say: “Oh, that one, he’s quite an actor!” Can an actor truly become someone? For that, people would have to take him seriously… But even I can’t take myself seriously. My doctor, when I visit him for a sick leave, always tells me: “Stop acting!” Not to mention my banker, who thinks I’m a clown. “Would you lend money to a clown?” he asks me that all the time. When you are like a rolling stone, you do not gather moss… That’s why actors rarely end up owning their final resting place. I don’t have a home either. It even seems like I don’t know where I live. If only I had met someone in life. “You should try to meet someone,” as they say. But if you think it’s easy to form a serious relationship with someone whose short name is Dick. I didn’t ask for much. Not necessarily someone… If only I had drawn the right number. But no. I drew some funny characters, believe me. Many wrong numbers. But never the winning number… And now, it’s too late, isn’t it? I don’t have much time left, I know that. And I know that after I’m gone, no one will say: “That guy, he was somebody.” Can we even talk about someone’s passing when it comes to a person who never managed to become somebody? No, at my funeral, they’ll say: “That guy, he was quite an actor.” If there’s anyone at my funeral, of course. Have you noticed, at the funerals of famous people, there’s always a crowd of ordinary folks, as they say in the newspapers? A crowd of ordinary folks… But at the graves of ordinary folks, there’s never anyone. Especially not celebrities. Or else, you have to be an undocumented soldier, die in the line of duty, and be very lucky posthumously. No, in times of peace, you shouldn’t dream. No one will ever rekindle the flame of all the deceased who never managed to become someone in their lifetime…
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A sketch from the collection Like a fish in the air
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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