INT. AN APARTMENT, DAYTIME
my parents have just left. i am alone.
i'm still strong. i don't need people, i just would like to be around people.
INT. A CONFERENCE ROOM, DAYTIME
i see you for the first time.
you're so fucking loud and you seem so fucking confident and like you actually like people who actually like you and you know what you're doing and you're secure in your identity but i can sniff out what you actually are and i'll tell you when we're actually friends.
i decide i don't like you.
INT. THE SAME APARTMENT, NIGHTTIME
i am crying.
did you know that
a) moving across the country
b) meeting a bunch of people and lying to them, telling them that no, they're mistaken you're actually not the girl who was raped in a freshman dorm on the leadership floor after a radio show who then went to a concert and decided to leave the state and cried a lot and drank a lot and was fucking shaking every time you saw him because he lived in your building still and you prayed and prayed he would just fucking disappear and then he drank too much codeine one night and called the police on himself because he's an idiot and now he’s gone but you're still sad, you're actually the girl who's their new favorite person, their cool new friend who laughs at jokes she doesn't think are funny and brushes aside her own trauma and Knows What She Wants
c) fucking a bunch of frat boys who smell like fireball and weed and toxic sludge to normalize what happened to you and make what's left of your torn hymen fold back and never grow back probably
d) watching a lot of really weird and upsetting porn
doesn't actually make your problems go away?
your dog is still dying. money is still tight. your parents are still falling out of love sometimes. your brother still resents you. your friends from back home are drifting away. trump is still president. you are still that girl.
INT. THE SAME APARTMENT, DAYTIME
i love you i love you i love you please come back i promise i'll be better next time.
i promise i won't cry when you put your fingers inside of me
i promise i won't kick you out and then change my mind.
i promise i'll be good.
EXT. A CEMETARY, NIGHTTIME
i smoked too much weed and i called my girlfriend and told her i loved her and she said she did too but i'm a fucking psychic and i know she won’t in a few months, snow is everywhere and it is so cold but summer is right around the corner and soon she'll be gone forever.
that's not all, that’s not all.
i can see everything. my eyes are all open. i know what is coming. i don’t know what it is exactly, but i know that when this whole thing is over, i will never be the same.
none of this makes sense, does it?