THE FLOYER CHARACTER STUDY
A series of monologues from within the world of Floyer.
The Floyer Character Study takes characters and ideas from Floyer’s songs and gives them a voice of their own.
Each short film centres on a different character, expanding on their perspective through an original monologue written and performed alongside the music.
The Voyeur
From “Neighbours”
Character Notes
Monologue
Curiosity invites our thirst for knowledge.
We must know how it ends.
What drama unfolds in the lives of other people.
We crave gossip that entertains.
A story to stir the quiet boredom our lives have become.
But what if we are all The Voyeurs?
Watching lives that are not our own.
Leaning closer to stories we were never meant to hear.
Would you confess your darkest secrets…
or would you hunt the person who discovers them?
In the darkness of night,
In the privacy of your home,
Don’t we forget that we are never truly alone?
Our most private moments
laid out for someone else to witness.
A shadow in the window.
A passing glance through a curtain.
Because secrets travel quietly.
And who knows them best
but the neighbours you never speak to?
Are you The Voyeur?
Watching from the darkness.
Silent.
Still.
Like a predator waiting patiently for its prey.
Or perhaps something worse.
Someone who tells themselves they are only watching.
The Voyeur carries a secret.
And she hopes
you will keep it.
Won’t you?
Because there is a certain thrill
in discovering a kindred spirit…
someone who recognises the same morbid curiosity within you
and does not turn away from it.
But her fascination runs deeper.
Far deeper.
The world is already rotting
in sickness, judgement, and quiet demise.
And all of us are merely watching
as it unfolds.
So keep my secret. Won’t you?
The Forgotten
From “The Stories I Wrote”
Character Notes
Monologue
You’ve seen me before. Not in memory, not in anything you could name.
But I was there, in the corners of your thoughts, in the background of something you almost noticed.
Fading. Quiet. Unclaimed.
My name disappears faster than anything I ever made.
It slips away before it can settle, before it can mean something.
I was a writer once. A child turning truth into fiction, softening endings, reshaping things that hurt too much to keep as they were.
I thought that meant I would last.
That if I wrote enough, something of me would stay.
But ink bleeds. Paper rots.
And memory… memory is the cruelest thing of all.
It lets you believe something will remain, only to take it from you slowly, piece by piece.
I became the only one who remembered me. And even that is fading.
I am one grain, lost in an ocean that never notices what it holds.
Forgotten.
I am The Forgotten. Standing in one place, like a statue. Still. Watching.
But I am not made of stone. Stone is solid. Certain. It belongs. I am something left over. Something that should have faded but didn’t.
Entombed, but breathing. Immortal, but unseen.
The ocean roars. The sky splits open with thunder. The world moves—loud, alive, endless in its motion. And I remain exactly where I am.
Every attempt to become more is swallowed whole. Every voice I try to find collapses back into silence.
I am not held here by time. Time moves. Time forgets. Time erases.
I am held here by absence.
Not remembered enough to live. Not gone enough to die.
You pass me every day. In half-finished thoughts. In stories you almost remember. In names that sit on the tip of your tongue and never quite arrive.
That is where I live now. Not in pages. Not in ink. But in the spaces where memory fails you.
I see you. I see the way you forget without noticing. The way you move on, leaving things behind without ever turning back.
You call it nothing. You call it insignificant.
But that is where I am built.
Piece by piece. Fragment by fragment. Every time you close the book too soon. Every time you let a name fade. Every time something almost mattered, and then didn’t.
I grow.
Not into something whole. But into something restless. Something unfinished. Something that lingers where it should not.
I will linger.
I will demand my existence, even if it means turning quiet into noise, turning absence into something that cannot be ignored.
I matter. I have to matter. In a world full of wandering souls, I cannot be nothing.
But I cannot see in myself what aches to be seen. What aches to be loved.
So I remain… abandoned, unseen, suspended in the space between being and nothing.
I exist only in the forgetting.
And I will remain, long after everything else is gone.
Because even when the world ends, something is always left behind— a trace, a fragment, a feeling you cannot explain.
And when you try to grasp it, when you almost understand, when something brushes against your mind and then disappears…
I will be there.
Just beyond it.
I am The Forgotten.
Explore the World of Floyer, read The Floyer Issue or browse Teasers, Stories & Gallery for more creative work from Floyer.
stay connected
Keep up with new music, videos, live shows and more from Floyer.