ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

A PLAY BY SAVANNAH PEDERSEN

DECEMBER 2018

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN:
HOPE: Twenties. A sharp tongue and quirky humour. A stand-up
comedian.

HOPE’S MOM: Eccentric, oblivious, just trying her best. Bad at

communicating. 50s.

JOY: Manic-depressive. Ironic name. Twenties. Pretty and sad in

an Instagram way.

BENNY: Dictionary definition of Narcissistic Sociopath.

TWITCH: If Adderall was a person. Kleptomaniac.

NICK: Obsessive, educated.

DR. SCHWARTZ: A psychiatrist. Her circus, her monkeys.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Pretty self explanatory.

CHICAGO FRIEND: Party animal.

HOST 1/REPORTER 1: Co-anchor on a talk show.

HOST 2/REPORTER 2: Co-anchor on a talk show.

REPORTER 3: Gossip channel reporter.

SCENE ONE: ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

A circle of chairs is set up in the center of the stage. A

two-way mirror is set upstage left, with DR. SCHWARTZ and HOPE’S
MOM glancing through to the group of young adults sitting in the

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 chairs. There is a small table in the middle of the circle with
a metronome sitting atop it.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Your daughter is adjusting well to the program. As

expected, it’s still taking time to assimilate herself into the
way things work around our facility but I do have faith that
we’ll start seeing some results of treatment very soon.

HOPE’S MOM: Good. That’s good. Her manager will love to hear
that. When can we arrange a visit?

DR. SCHWARTZ: We typically don’t allow patients to see anyone

until we’ve gotten a proper and thorough assessment of their
behaviors. It helps us to develop a game plan should any episodes
happen inside the facility.

HOPE’S MOM: Episodes like...what happened last time?

DR. SCHWARTZ: Maybe. Or it could be something different. It’s

difficult to tell with cases like these. But if everything goes
smoothly with her transition into the program, she should be
ready for visitors by the beginning of next month.

Inside the room on the other side of the mirror, we meet our
Breakfast Club. TWITCH reaches across the circle from his seat
to start the metronome, its soft ticking playing under the rest
of the scene.

JOY: I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately. Staring into
the void. The finality and uncertainty of it all. What happens
after we die? Is there a God--a heaven? Or is it just nothing? We
live as long as we can to just...not anymore?

HOPE1 turns to the two-way mirror. She can’t see who is behind
it, but she knows she is being watched.

HOPE: You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me this is a joke.

1 At this point in the show, HOPE has short, wild blue hair. This will be important when we jump back
through her timeline during the show.

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NICK: I learned a new word today. Philophobia. The fear of being
in love or falling in love.

BENNY: That’s cheery.

TWITCH (to JOY): I think there’s an afterlife. Or something. I

don’t know. We live on a ball of gas inside an infinite universe.
I refuse to believe that we are put on this planet as helpless
potato babies who then turn into whiny teenagers who then turn
into exhausted adults whose sole purpose is to pay bills and
simultaneously not be poor. And then--if there’s still a
retirement age that’s attainable for us because the way our
economy is going, that doesn’t seem likely--we retire with some
money. But at that point, we’re too old and tired to do anything
anyway. And then we die. I think the thought of nothing after
that feels like a dupe.

BENNY: We’re born, we live, we die. There’s nothing after that.

HOPE (under her breath): Helpless potato babies?

NICK: But what if there is?

JOY: I suppose that’s where the concept of faith comes into play.

HOPE’S MOM (still behind the glass): So this is what happens? All
day long?

DR. SCHWARTZ: All day long.

The metronome stops, and with it, all movement ceases within the
support group. HOPE’S MOM exits as DR. SCHWARTZ steps forward,
pulling a tape recorder from her jacket and speaking into it.

DR. SCHWARTZ: This is case 32, patient name Hope Grier. Age
twenty-four, she’s a...stand-up comedian performing mainly around
New York City. Day 1 of group therapy seems to be going as
expected. There’s a lot of personalities in one room trying to
get to know each other, so we are bound to have
some...interesting discussion.

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With a snap of her fingers, the SUPPORT ROOM set is cleared and
everyone exits. As she speaks, different set pieces are brought
onto the stage behind her: a stool, a microphone in a stand, and
a bottle of water placed atop the stool.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Reading back on her file, Miss Grier did have some
challenging periods in her early childhood where she visited a
psychiatrist briefly but her family was unable to locate those
records. We’re still researching that.

She begins to exit, crossing the stage as the lights slowly dim.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Miss Grier first started experiencing symptoms

about four months ago, as she was embarking on the final leg of
her breakout comedy tour.

She exits the stage as the lights go dark and a voiceover plays,
announcing HOPE to the audience.

VOICEOVER: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage,

comedy’s brightest young star! Awarded the Best New Act of 2018
by Allure Magazine, you love her crude humor and distaste for all
of modern society! Here she is, Hope Grier!

HOPE re-enters, dressed to the nines. There’s a new energy about

her, less defeated and more excited. Proud. She immediately
jumps into her comedy set.

HOPE: You know what word I hate? Candid. I hate scrolling on

Instagram, seeing a perfectly staged, perfectly filtered
photograph with a caption like “On Sundays, we brunch! Hashtag
mimosas, hashtag too lit to quit, hashtag Sunday Funday, hashtag
no filter, hashtag candid—” No, Jessica, that is not candid.
There were 139 photos that you made poor Brittany take before you
finally settled on this one after heavy photoshop, that is not
candid! It’s not.

(A pause. Hopefully for laughter.)

I do the same thing—I think almost all women do the same thing.
The reason I do is that whenever someone takes a “candid”

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photograph of me, I usually have seven chins, a third eye, and a
weird growth on my arm and let’s be honest, no amount of
photoshop can save that.

I just hate today’s social media culture. I hate that as a

society, we feel the need to update people on every aspect of our
day, and if it’s deemed an uninteresting aspect, we throw a
filter on it to make it more appealing to our followers.

Women on Instagram have three types of photos they post: number

one is the “candid”, which usually consists of holding some sort
of pressed juice and laughing at nothing over their shoulder (she
demonstrates). Then there are those who have a significant other,
to which they’ll usually post some sort of image of the two of
them doing some really cool and outlandish thing together. Yeah,
fuck you, Samantha and Greg who just went hiking up a mountain in
Bali--hashtag bae gets it.

But it was only until a few months ago that I discovered the
third type of photograph women tend to post on their Instagram
feed and it’s called: The Prune. Sounds like a scary movie set in
a nursing home, right? Wrong! The Prune is the most powerful form
of a selfie, because it is scientifically proven to make you the
most attractive version of yourself that you can present to the
internet. I had this friend who used this method of selfie-taking
across her entire Instagram feed. I’m not kidding, 90% of her
photos looked like this—

She demonstrates The Prune: concaving her chest, hands on her

hips, chin up, lips pursed.

And then the caption was usually some Ariana Grande lyric that
had absolutely nothing to do with the selfie. And it was genius,
because she looks 100% better in these photographs than she does
in real life. Is it sorcery? No, it’s The Prune. Why is it called
that? Simple. Because you set yourself up for the photograph.
Natural lighting, a face you just spent an hour beating so you
don’t look like the Bride of Frankenstein, maybe like a vegan
acåi bowl in the background because hashtag aesthetic. You have
to tilt your head up at precisely a 75 degree angle, and concave
your ribcage—which is a pointless step because this picture is

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only going to be from the shoulders up but it makes you feel
pretty, it’s science. And then, right at the last second before
you snap the photo, you must say “prune”.

She demonstrates, snapping an imaginary photo.

Did you catch it? It’s genius. I’ll do it again. Prune.

She purses her lips after saying it, snapping another imaginary
photo.

So to sum it up, the secret to a perfect Instagram selfie is

collapsing your upper body like a broken porcelain doll, saying
“prune” (she snaps another imaginary photo), and captioning it
accordingly. “Thank U, Next”, hashtag selfie, hashtag I woke up
like this, hashtag candid!

Chicago, my name is Hope Grier and thank you so much! You were a
great crowd tonight!

A flourish of music as the mic stand and stool are struck from
the stage.

DR. SCHWARTZ re-enters downstage, still reading from her file.

Throughout this dialogue, two chairs are set onstage as well as
a desk: the set-up of a late-night talk show.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Chicago was the biggest stage of Hope’s career. It

was a huge venue, huge lineup, and huge sponsors waiting to throw
money at the funniest girl in the room. It was very important
that she knocked these next performances out of the park while
maintaining a pristine image for her fanbase.

She exits as HOPE sits in one of the chairs. She is joined by

REPORTER 3 who sits behind the desk. A flourish of cheesy theme
music brings us back from commercial break.

REPORTER 3 (to audience): And welcome back! We are here with the
one, the only, Hope Grier! Hope, how the heck are ya?

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HOPE: I’m great, thanks. Thank you so much for having me, I’m a
big fan of the show.

REPORTER 3: Oh you are too sweet. How sweet is this girl? But
enough of that, how are you? You’ve been on this long tour by
yourself.

HOPE: I’m good! I’m good. Yeah, it’s been a long time
but...seeing all the fans at each show is so worth it. I really
have the best fans in the world.

REPORTER 3: Well how many cities have you done so far?

HOPE: Right now, Chicago is city number eight out of twelve.

REPORTER 3: Twelve cities?

HOPE: Yeah.

REPORTER 3: And you’re travelling by yourself?

HOPE: For the most part. I have like, my sound guy and security
team, and my manager flies in sometimes when he can.

REPORTER 3: And you’re twenty-four years old? Incredible. I don’t

know a lot of twenty-four-year-olds that would be doing the
things you are right now. I know I wouldn’t!

HOPE (forced laughter): But I’m living the dream so what do I

have to complain about?

REPORTER 3: Well, Hope, thank you so much for coming to chat with
us tonight. We had a wonderful time with you.

HOPE: Thank you so much for having me. I had a blast.

REPORTER 3: Now you have one more show tomorrow night, correct?

HOPE: Yep, tomorrow at the Chicago Theatre. Tickets are on sale

but we are pretty close to selling out, so I wouldn’t wait for
those.

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REPORTER 3: You guys heard it first! Get your tickets to see
“Comedy’s Brightest Young Star” before you can’t! Goodnight!

The same cheesy theme song from before helps us clear the talk-
show set while HOPE stands center stage. She pulls her phone out
and dials it, putting it up to her ear.

HOPE’S MOM’S VOICEMAIL: Hey, can’t get to the phone right now,
but leave me a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as I
can. Thanks for calling, and have a great day!

HOPE: Hey mom, it’s me. Tonight was my first live show in
Chicago. It went really well. I think. I mean, I could’ve done
better I guess but, I think I did a good job. Um...I had that
interview after on the late show. I think it’s channel eighteen?
I’m not sure. I left you two tickets at the door tonight but I
guess you got caught up with something so I’ll leave you two more
tomorrow in case you’re free. Love you.

She hangs up only for her phone to ring instantly. She

immediately takes the call.

HOPE: Mom?

HOPE’S MANAGER enters on the opposite side of the stage.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Good try. How are you, kid?

HOPE: Good. Did you see the interview?

HOPE’S MANAGER: I just watched it. Thought you killed it.

HOPE: I felt like I was trying too hard.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Not at all. You were perfectly sweet and natural
and that’s exactly why everyone loves you so much.

HOPE: They love my distaste for modern society, don’t you recall?

HOPE’S MANAGER: I think that’s a compliment.

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HOPE: I guess you’re right.

HOPE’S MANAGER: I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning and I

want you to run through your Night 2 set with me, okay? Just to
make sure we’re set.

HOPE: Sure thing.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hey, I’m proud of you kiddo. Catch you later.

HOPE: Goodnight.
Blackout.

SCENE TWO: NICK’S PRIVATE SESSION

Two folding chairs split centerstage. DR. SCHWARTZ is in one and

NICK is in the other. A camera is set up behind the doctor’s
shoulder, filming the session. There is also a small table in
between them hosting a glass of water and the metronome from the
first scene, ticking softly once again. The doctor is writing in
a notepad throughout the session.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Alright, you don’t need to worry about the camera.
Nobody else will see this so don’t feel the need to filter
anything. It’s just you and me. Okay?

He nods.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What’s your name?

NICK: Nicholas Andrew Reid. But you can call me Nick. I prefer
Nick, actually. Please don’t call me Nicholas.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That sounds good to me. How old are you?

NICK: Twenty-three. Practically thirty.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Do you know why you’re here?

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NICK: Yeah. I read about this program online one day. Someone
linked it from Tumblr. I know that there’s something…not right
with me. And I liked the idea of talking with a group of peers
suffering from the same things I’m dealing with.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Do you recall when you started experiencing

symptoms of your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder?

NICK: It’s funny, because I always thought that people were born
crazy. Like, as children they developed this need to make sure
all their blocks were straight, and their clothes were wrinkle-
free, and they’d wash their hands after touching anything in
public…but my symptoms came on suddenly. You make fun of people
for saying that something “triggers them”, but that’s all it
boils down to, really. Some people are born crazy and some people
are triggered and become crazy.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Do you think you’re crazy?

NICK: No. I think my brain developed a coping mechanism to

something that it didn’t like, and now I compulsively do strange
things.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s a very good explanation. What kind of

strange things?

NICK: I like words. Words people have probably never heard or

used before.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You make up words?

NICK: No, I seek out unknown words. I’ve always had a stellar
reading level, even in school. I prefer being challenged
academically. So I started looking up words. New words every day,
with new meanings. I like words that encompass feelings or
thoughts, rather than words that have a strict definition.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Can you give me an example?

Almost robotically, like he’s in a trance, he recites a

definition.

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NICK: ‘Qualtagh’. The first person you meet on a special day.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That seems vague.

NICK: Then you’re missing the point. Where I grew up in Brooklyn,

there were a ton of bagel shops, one on each corner it seemed.
There was one day, September 27th, I was out, and I decided to
try a new bagel shop, since my usual one was closed for
renovations. I was in line, reciting my order in my head a few
times. I tend to do that with anything I’m about to say to
another human, just to make sure I don’t mess it up and say
something ridiculous.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s a product of anxiety manipulating your inner

monologue.

NICK: Maybe. Or just my overwhelming need to have people like me

and if I say something stupid, they probably won’t like me very
much.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Again, anxiety.

NICK (sighs): I got to the front of the line. I glanced down at

my phone, avoiding eye contact—

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s—

NICK: Yes, yes, I know. Anxiety. (almost robotically) a feeling

of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent
event or something with an uncertain outcome.

He taps his index finger against his knee quickly three times,
almost imperceptibly, and runs his hand through his hair.

I said my order. I said it perfectly: everything bagel with chive

cream cheese, please. And then I blushed because for some reason,
I instantly realized my order was a ridiculous, foodie poem, and
I looked up at the man taking my order to apologize…

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 He shifts in his seat, straightening his pants. He grabs the
glass of water, takes a sip, and sets it back on the table. He
realizes it’s not centered, and takes a moment to adjust it
before he continues.

NICK: You hear about it in the movies all the time: falling in
love at first sight. It sounds so stupid and cheesy, but I think
only to people who don’t understand it, or have never experienced
it. I swear, Doc, I looked at this man and the world stopped.
There was nothing but this man in a little brown apron with a
name tag on it scribbled with the name Jason. Such a plain name.
Such a plain guy. Brown hair, brown eyes…but that plainness was
the best thing about him. September 27th was an ordinary day. He
was the first person I met that day, and that day was
suddenly...special. Boom. Qualtagh.

Blackout.

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SCENE THREE: ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

The circle of chairs is back, as is the two-way mirror set

upstage left. JOY, BENNY, TWITCH, NICK, and DR. SCHWARTZ are all
present. TWITCH is sporting a new hat today. The metronome
softly ticks as it sits on its table.

JOY: Hi, my name is Joy, and I have anxiety.

ALL: Hi, Joy.

JOY: So, yes, I have anxiety. A lot of anxiety. The kind where
sometimes I struggle to get out of bed. I guess that’s partly
because my anxiety is comorbid with manic depression.

BENNY: Comorbid?

NICK (robotically): Comorbid. In medicine, comorbidity is the

presence of one or more additional diseases or disorders co-
occurring with a primary disease or disorder.

A beat. They all regard him in their own way.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s correct, very good.

JOY: My mother named me Joy because she wanted me to be the

change in her bleak existence, so the irony isn’t lost on me that
I turned out like this.

DR. SCHWARTZ: It’s not your fault. Sometimes, when we’re born,
our brains are hard-wired differently than others. It doesn’t
make us broken or wrong.

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BENNY: I call bullshit on that one. I think we’re the normal
ones, and the rest are fucked up.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I’ve told you I don’t like that language while
we’re in group.

BENNY: I’ve got a point, you’ve got to admit, Doc. Who really
determines who is normal and who is crazy? Huh? Who decided that
you should be in charge of us? Maybe we should be monitoring you.

JOY: She has a PhD in psychology, you asshole.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Two PhD’s, actually. One in psychology and one in

social work. Also a Master’s in child psychology.

BENNY: I could have your job if I wanted. All I’d need to do is

watch a few YouTube videos. They put everything on the internet
these days.

JOY: (overlapping the others) Are you kidding? You really think
you could do this job without any kind of schooling? Grow up,
Benny.

NICK: (overlapping the others) That is probably the stupidest

thing that’s come out of your mouth.

TWITCH: (overlapping the others) Hey I believe in you. You can do

anything you set your mind to.

BENNY: (to TWITCH) Hey, thanks man. I really like your hat, dude.

TWITCH: Thanks, I stole it!

A beat. JOY and NICK turn to him.

TWITCH (awkwardly): I mean, no, I didn’t. And Benny, that is an

ignorant thing to say, Dr. Strange has worked very hard to get
this job and you should treat her with respect.

Another beat. This time, the whole room explodes.

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BENNY: (overlapping the others) Whose side are you on, man? I
thought you had my back there, you can’t just switch sides
because the majority overrules you. What happened to the spirit
of revolution?! I told you I liked your hat!

JOY: (overlapping the others) Why am I the only female present in

this group? The testosterone is clouding my head and now I can
only think ignorant, self-centered thoughts. Is nobody going to
let me finish my opening speech? What is the point of group if
nobody will let me talk?

DR. SCHWARTZ: (overlapping the others) While I do appreciate your

kind remarks, I would prefer you call me by my real name. Dr.
Strange is also a (white) man, which I am clearly not, so…

TWITCH: (overlapping the others) I’m sorry, Doc, I really was

trying my best.

NICK: (overlapping the others) Are you Jewish, Dr. Schwartz? I

didn’t know that was your real name. Is your husband a Jew?

DR. SCHWARTZ: Enough!

This is the first time we’ve seen her raise her voice. It’s
enough to make everyone fall silent.

DR. SCHWARTZ (con’t): I think we should leave this alone today

and come back tomorrow for a fresh start. Have a good night.

They leave without argument. She remains in her seat, leaning

over to stop the metronome before reaching into her jacket
pocket for her tape recorder and a flask. She takes a swig
before pressing record.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Day eight of group therapy. It’s going well.

Blackout.

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SCENE FOUR: CHICAGO-NIGHT TWO

The middle of HOPE’S set. She’s on a roll.

HOPE: So I recently started exercising, Chicago. Yes, I know--

voluntarily. But no, I did. I go for a run* or if you’re being
technical, a brisk walk, every morning around this lake by my
house. I started doing this because over the holiday season I ate
a lot. Of. Bagels. Which, by the way, there are two kinds of
people: people who know everything bagels are superior and
fucking liars, okay? Just to be clear.

But no, I now set my alarm for seven, get out of bed at eight,
leave my house by nine, and go for a beautiful walk around the
lake because, hashtag, beauty is everywhere. Bob Ross taught me
that. And on my lovely, sticky, mid-morning walks, I encounter
two kinds of people. There are the people who, like me, have
voluntarily dragged themselves to the lake to run, so they’re
usually in a great mood.

She demonstrates, moving quickly to one side of the stage before

slow-motion running (think Baywatch) slowly to the other side.

HOPE: So, I’m running, look at me. Yay!

She frantically moves to the opposite side of the stage and runs
in slow motion again.

HOPE: And here come the other people who love fitness, like
myself! And they’ve got the biggest, grandest endorphin-high
smiles on their faces. Their skin is golden and glistening as
they just bake in the sun day after day with little to no SPF
protection. And we get close enough to see each other, and they
very politely exclaim, “Good morning!”

She runs to the opposite side of the stage again, running in

slow motion.

HOPE: To which I reply, (panting as if she’s run a marathon) H--

hey! And the best part is, I look nothing like them. They’re
usually a retired couple, kinda leathery, hair bleached from the

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sun. Have lived in Florida their entire lives, that sort of
thing. Meanwhile, my pasty ass is literally reflecting sunlight,
my face is so red it almost doesn’t look medically possible, and
my legs are so tired I look like a baby giraffe learning how to
walk.

She demonstrates.

HOPE: But there is a different kind of person you can meet out
there, Chicago. And that interaction goes like this.

She moves to one side of the stage, running in slow motion as

herself. She looks up at the opposite side of the stage and
waves.

HOPE: Morning!

She turns her body so she’s running in slow motion in the

opposite direction, towards where she just was. She says nothing
and continues to run in slow motion. She acts as if she hadn’t
said anything to begin with, effectively ignoring herself.

HOPE: They say nothing, Chicago! Nothing. Like, alright thanks,

I’ll just go fuck myself then. And I realize that those are the
kind of people who don’t like to exercise, but they have to
exercise. But you know that after their run, they’re going to be
in such a good mood, and you almost feel kind of bad that you
won’t be there to witness it. Which further enforces my theory
that pretty much everyone subconsciously loves exercise. I guess
you could say there are two types of people: people who love
exercise, and fucking liars. Chicago, my name is Hope Grier,
thank you so much!

Another flourish of music helps clear the stage as HOPE’S MANAGER

enters. A vanity and stool are set in the upstage corner,
creating HOPE’S dressing room.

HOPE’S MANAGER: You killed it, kiddo! You were on fire out there.

HOPE: I was alright. I feel like that bit is kind of tired. Maybe
I’ll write something else.

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HOPE’S MANAGER: The jogging bit is hilarious!

HOPE: I’m not sure. I don’t think it translates--

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hope, it’s so hilarious, Comedy Central wants to

live-broadcast an encore of your performance.

HOPE can’t believe her ears. She squeals.

HOPE: What? No way!

HOPE’S MANAGER: They’re estimating millions will tune in. You’re

headlining. They’re spending a fortune on advertising. It’ll be
primetime on Comedy Central and live-streamed to Facebook,
Instagram, and Twitter.

This is a lot of pressure and she knows it. She forces

excitement.

HOPE: Wow. That’s so… This is really… Wow!

He awkwardly embraces her the way a goofy dad would. It’s not
unwelcome but our comedienne is processing a lot, and can’t
quite seem to return his enthusiasm.

HOPE: When is the show?

HOPE’S MANAGER: Friday night baby.

HOPE: Friday? Like in two days, Friday?

HOPE’S MANAGER: Yes? Is that an issue?

HOPE: No! No. Not at all. It’s just...that’s, like...soon. That’s

soon. Friday. That’s like no time to prepare.

HOPE’S MANAGER: What do you need to prepare? You killed these

last two performances. There’s nothing wrong with your act. Your
jokes are clean, but effective. You look like a million bucks
every time you’re onstage. You’ve got the whole package, kid. I

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can think of a lot of girls your age who would kill to be where
you are right now. You should be very proud of yourself.

She can’t quite seem to share that sentiment.

HOPE: Yeah. I am.

HOPE’S MANAGER: I am too. You should call your mom.

HOPE: Okay.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hey, meet me down at the bar when you’re done. I
think some champagne is overdue.

He hugs her again, less awkwardly, before throwing his head back
and exclaiming:

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hope Grier, you are gonna make me the richest
talent agent in New York City!

He exits. HOPE pulls out her phone and dials it before taking a
seat at her vanity. On the other side of the stage, HOPE’S MOM
enters.

HOPE’S MOM: Hello?

HOPE: Mom!

HOPE’S MOM: Hi honey, I’ve been texting you! Why haven’t you
responded to me?

HOPE: I’ve called you like ten times in the past two days. You
didn’t answer once.

HOPE’S MOM: Ah, well you know me. My phone could’ve been ringing
in my hand and I still would’ve missed the call. How are things,
honey?

HOPE: They’re good. Really good. The last two nights in Chicago
have been amazing.

19
HOPE’S MOM: You’re in Chicago? I thought you were in New York?

HOPE: Nope. Definitely Chicago. I’ve left you voicemails saying I

left you tickets at the door.

HOPE’S MOM: Well why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could’ve

planned my days around seeing you.

HOPE: I did tell you. Several times. I sent you my tour schedule
the second it was finalized, back in November.

HOPE’S MOM: Oh, well...next time, I guess.

HOPE: Well, that’s why I wanted to call. See, I got picked up by

Comedy Central--sort of. They want to broadcast an encore
performance Friday night and they want me to headline.

HOPE’S MOM: Hope! That’s great!

HOPE: Yeah, so now you have another chance to see me!

HOPE’S MOM: Yeah. Well. I have plans for Friday night already but
if they’re cancelled, then yes, I will definitely come. Surely
you understand I can’t just rearrange things at the last minute?

HOPE (defeated): Yeah, of course.

HOPE’S MOM: I might have a free hour to get lunch tomorrow. Let’s
plan on that, okay?

HOPE: Yeah! That would be great. I have an interview in the

morning but other than that, I’m free all day.

HOPE’S MOM: Alright, honey. I have to go now, I’m at a dinner

party. I’ll talk to you later.

She hangs up and promptly exits.

HOPE: Love you too.

Blackout.

20
SCENE FIVE: BENNY’S PRIVATE SESSION

The same set up as before. Two folding chairs split centerstage.

DR. SCHWARTZ is in one and BENNY is in the other. A camera is
set up behind the doctor’s shoulder, filming the session. On the
table between them is the ticking metronome, her recorder, and a
cup of coffee.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Alright, tell me your name.

BENNY: Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez.

DR. SCHWARTZ: (clearly unamused) Funny. How old are you?

BENNY: Twenty-seven. I can still party like I’m eighteen though.

DR. SCHWARTZ: And do you know why you’re here?

21
BENNY: My mom’s idea. She thinks I’ve got anger issues.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You disagree?

BENNY: I guess maybe to an extent. But whatever issues I have

aren’t my fault.

DR. SCHWARTZ: So whose fault are they?

He shrugs.

DR. SCHWARTZ: It’s okay if you’re angry. Anger is a natural

defense to pain. I just want to help understand you a bit more.

BENNY: I’m not some pussy, doc. I’ve just got a lot of pent up
hatred.

DR. SCHWARTZ: To me, any time I hear somebody say “I hate you,”
it’s just a different way of saying, “You hurt me.”

BENNY: I’m not broken.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I didn’t say that.

BENNY: Sure sounded like it.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Okay, let’s move on. What are your hobbies?

BENNY: I like video games. And working, I like working.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You like working or you like money?

BENNY: I like working, because I make a lot of money.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Fair point. What do you usually spend your money
on?

He hesitates for a moment, glancing at the camera behind her.

22
DR. SCHWARTZ: Doctor-patient confidentiality. Nobody else will
see this.

BENNY: I spend most of my money on monthly subscription boxes and

recreational drugs.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Monthly subscription boxes?

BENNY: Yeah, like Dollar Shave Club, Birchbox for Men, you know,
manly ones.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I see. You care about how you look.

BENNY: Exactly, Doc.

DR. SCHWARTZ: And what kinds of drugs do you do?

BENNY: Mostly just booger sugar. Occasionally acid but not like a
habitual thing.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You prefer stimulants?

BENNY: Yeah.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Why is that?

BENNY: I don’t like being awake during the day. I’ll sleep as
late as I can, go straight to work, do a bunch of drugs to stay
up all night, and go to bed around eight in the morning.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s got to be hard on your body.

BENNY: I’m trying to be out of here by the time I’m forty, okay?

She writes something down on her notebook before glancing up at

him again.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Tell me about your childhood.

BENNY: The earlier years of my childhood were difficult for my

parents. Apparently I was a hellion.

23
DR. SCHWARTZ (under her breath): I am so surprised.

BENNY: When they told me my sister was going to be born, I guess

I had a psychotic breakdown? Apparently I destroyed a mattress
and screamed for fourteen hours straight in a hotel on a family
vacation. It wasn’t good. So they hired a child psychologist
to...diagnose me. I guess that explains a lot about me now.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Meaning?

BENNY: I’m not a good person.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I wouldn’t go that far.

BENNY: My mom and I don’t quite understand each other. She’s so

good and selfless and I’m not.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What about your dad?

BENNY: My dad and I never got along. But he’s dead now so that
doesn’t matter.

He taps his index finger against his knee three times before
running his hand through his hair. It should be so imperceptible
that maybe only a few people see it.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Why do you think you’re a bad person?

BENNY: Because I take what I need from people and when I’ve taken
all they can give, I move on.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You’re a heartbreaker.

BENNY: More than that. I don’t do it on purpose, it’s just the

way I am. I dive headfirst and then I get bored and I want to
stop trying, and then I move on. And I hurt people that way. And
I know I do, yet I continue to do it. That’s not what a good
person does.

24
DR. SCHWARTZ: But you’re smart enough to understand what you’re
doing, which is a great first step. I think what we can really
work on is your communication, especially when it comes to how
you feel.

BENNY: You don’t need to do that.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Do what?

BENNY: Act like you believe in me. I know I’m a lost cause.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Nobody is a lost cause. Our time is up for today.

I’ll see you in group this afternoon, okay?

He stands and turns to leave but stops himself, turning back to

her.

BENNY: Doc? It’s Benjamin. Benjamin McCauley. That’s my name.

DR. SCHWARTZ (offering a small smile): Okay.

Blackout.

25
SCENE SIX: A RADIO INTERVIEW

HOPE sits at a small table with two radio hosts.

HOST 1: So tell us, Hope. Have you done any additional rehearsing
or have you added any new material for tomorrow night’s big
performance?

HOPE: Well, part of the appeal of my stand-up, I think, is my

laid back, devil-may-care attitude, so I definitely don’t want to
come across too-rehearsed. But at the same time, I want to make
sure my jokes have a sort of rhythm and flow to them, so there’s
a delicate balance. Having the energy of an audience in the room
really helps, too.

HOST 2: You sold out tickets for tomorrow’s performance in record

time. You’re officially the youngest person to sell out the
Chicago Theatre. How does that feel?

HOPE: It’s an incredible honor, really. But that is entirely

because of the fans. They’re really the reason I’m here, and I am
so grateful for them.

HOST 1: Are you nervous at all for the performance? A lot of

people will be tuning in live as well.

26
HOPE: Of course I’m nervous. I’m lucky to be a part of an
incredible lineup of comedians, and to headline is just insane. I
do feel the pressure a little bit, but I’m confident too. It’s
going to be a great night of comedy.

HOST 2: We are very excited to tune in and see you. For everyone
listening, we’ve added the link for tomorrow night’s livestream
on our Facebook page so make sure you’re following us on there.

HOST 1: Thank you so much, Hope.

HOPE: Thank you guys. I had a blast.

The lights dim as HOPE’S friend from Chicago enters downstage,

her phone held up to her ear. The table and chairs from the
radio interview are cleared and HOPE’s phone rings. She makes
her way down the opposite side of the stage, answering her
phone.

CHICAGO FRIEND: Hey girl. What’s shaking?

HOPE: Hey, not much. What’s up?

CHICAGO FRIEND: A couple of us are going out on the town and want
you to come along!

HOPE: Tonight? Oh, I wish I could. I’m supposed to be meeting

my...I’m supposed to be meeting someone for lunch.

CHICAGO FRIEND: Oh, come on. Let us show you what Chicago has to
offer!

She pulls a small baggie of white powder from her pocket and
examines it, smirking.

CHICAGO FRIEND (con’t): It’ll be a grand ole time.

HOPE: I wish I could. But I probably shouldn’t be out late with

the show happening tomorrow. Maybe next time.

27
CHICAGO FRIEND: Ugh, lame. Alright, girl, I’ll talk to you later.
Kisses!

She hangs up and exits, leaving HOPE to check her phone,

worried. She dials a number quickly and puts the phone to her
ear. HOPE’S MANAGER enters opposite her.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hello?

HOPE: Hey. Have you heard from my mom? I was supposed to meet up
with her for lunch but she hasn’t answered any of my calls or
texts.

HOPE’S MANAGER: And that’s surprising for your mother how?

HOPE: You’re right.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Try her again. She probably left her phone in a
random place, like her pocket.

He hangs up and exits. HOPE dials another number and holds the
phone to her ear. It rings for a second before the call is sent
to voicemail. She frowns and tries again, achieving the same
result.

HOPE: Are you kidding me?

She tries again. And again. Five times in a row, she is sent to
voicemail. She is understandably furious, finally leaving a
voicemail on the sixth attempt.

HOPE: Hey, mom. Not sure if you remember me, but it’s your
daughter here. Not sure if I fit in your schedule but we were
supposed to have lunch today. I thought. I guess not.

She takes a breath, holding back tears. Her hands are shaking.

HOPE (con’t): I’ve been out here on this tour, trying to make
this happen by myself. With no help from you. It is so hard to go
out there every night and try to be funny when behind the scenes,
I struggle to get out of bed. But I do. To bust my ass and make

28
it so that maybe one day you will be proud of me. But it’s never
enough for you. It never was, and it never will be. You haven’t
bothered to ask me about the tour at all. You didn’t say anything
about the Comedy Central show. So I’m curious. Do you even listen
to anything I say? Or is it a selective hearing thing or what?
Because if you don’t give a fuck about a single thing I am doing
with my life, what is even the point?

She hangs up and exhales, stunned. She stands completely still

for a moment, processing what she just said. She can’t tell if
she feels relieved or more anxious. She takes a breath,
composing herself before turning to her phone a final time and
dialing a new number. She holds the phone up to her ear while it
rings for a second or two.

HOPE: Hey, it’s me. What exactly does Chicago have to offer?

Blackout.

29
SCENE SEVEN: ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

Our now-familiar circle of chairs is set up once again. TWITCH

is sporting his hat and now an obnoxious gold chain necklace,
very obviously also stolen. JOY and NICK are locked in a very
serious game of Life. The ever-present metronome ticks in the
background.

JOY: Going to college is pointless. You’re going to end up poor.

NICK: Yes, but I will be employed which will allow me to pay back
my debt.

BENNY: The way this game is going, you’re both going to end up
single and homeless without a cent to your name.

TWITCH: You’ve been playing for forty-five minutes and have only
made three moves each.

NICK: This isn’t just some game, this is Life.

BENNY: I hate you.

JOY: Twitch, I like your necklace.

TWITCH: Thanks. I stole it.

NICK: I feel like that’s something you shouldn’t advertise.

BENNY: Hey, if I was good at it, I’d for sure advertise it.

TWITCH: Thanks, that really means a lot. I’ve worked hard to

perfect my craft.

30
 JOY takes a photo of the game board and begins typing on her
phone.

NICK: Oh, it’s my favorite time of the day…

ALL BOYS: Instagram time.

TWITCH: What’s our focal point in today’s daily social media cry
for help, Joy?

BENNY: Hold on, I’ve got it: a picture of the game board with
that emo Instagram filter and some kind of trendy and hip, yet
depressed caption.

TWITCH: Probably some sort of song lyrics from a band that only
woke people listen to.

BENNY: Grateful Dead?

TWITCH: No, definitely something trendier. Oh! Fleetwood Mac.

BENNY: Oh God yes. Tell me you’re using lyrics from Landslide

right now.

That’s exactly what she’s doing. She quickly puts her phone
away.

JOY: Both of you can fuck off.

DR. SCHWARTZ enters suddenly, frazzled.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Apologies, all. Traffic was a nightmare this

morning.

NICK: No worries, Doc. Joy and I were just engaging in an

ultroneous game of Life.

BENNY: There’s no Ultron in the game of Life.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Not Ultron, ultroneous.

31
NICK: Ultroneous; adjective. Voluntary or spontaneous.

TWITCH: Then why can’t you just say voluntary or spontaneous?

DR. SCHWARTZ: That is actually what I want our discussion to be

about today. As part of our illnesses, we experience triggers.
Things that set us off. I want to learn more about yours.

They regard her silently, suddenly unwilling to talk.

DR. SCHWARTZ (con’t): The floor is open.

BENNY: The grocery store. That triggers me.

TWITCH: Oh God yes!

NICK: Crowded, on a Sunday morning after church.

JOY: So. Many. Old people.

BENNY: It’s honestly probably worse than the Hunger Games.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Is it just going to the store that triggers you? Or

something specific inside the store?

TWITCH: My mother takes an eternity to decide what brand of

cheese she wants to buy. Cheese. She will literally turn over a
bag of Kraft and a bag of Sargento in her hands for eight
minutes. They’re the same size, and same kind of cheese. Eight
minutes.

JOY: She’s probably trying to figure out the most bang for her
buck.

TWITCH: I mean, to me, Sargento is clearly the superior brand but

it’s her life so...

BENNY: She should just buy the cheaper one. We all know that all
cheese tastes the same.

32
NICK (clearly a cheese connoisseur): All cheese does not taste
the same.

JOY: The thing that really gets me is when you’re cashing out. If
you pay with cash and need to get change back--

TWITCH: Oh God, waiting for change is like waiting for my final

judgement at the pearly gates.

BENNY: I would literally rather get struck by lightning than try

and get all my change and my receipt into my wallet before the
next person makes it to the register. Please just kill me
instead.

DR. SCHWARTZ: No suicide jokes, please.

NICK: Don’t worry, he loves himself far too much to off himself.

JOY: Lucky us.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What’s another trigger?

TWITCH: Large crowds. Crowded rooms. A crowded place I’m

unfamiliar with. It feels like everyone is watching you.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Is that why you steal things?

TWITCH: If I steal something, and I don’t get caught, it means

nobody was watching me. So in its own twisted way, it helps. And
I also get free stuff. Win win.

NICK: Can we report him to somebody?

JOY: Driving gives me anxiety.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Driving gives me anxiety too.

BENNY: People are stupid. I’m not trying to die because some
basic bitch was too busy taking a selfie on the freeway.

NICK (to DR. SCHWARTZ): Told you.

33
DR. SCHWARTZ: So, it seems to me that you all experience similar
triggers in very normal, daily activities. We all have to drive,
we all have to go to the grocery store--

BENNY: Nah, bro. I’ve got Postmates.

DR. SCHWARTZ (ignoring him): But if experiencing these things is

too much to handle, there are medication options that could help
you manage this better.

A groan of disgust from the group.

BENNY: Yeah, I’m totally good with just running away from my
issues.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You’re okay with running forever?

BENNY: Run now, make up a justification later. I feel like that’s

basic human instinct.

JOY: You are such a fuckboy.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Language, please.

TWITCH: Adderall makes me feel like I observe life more than I

live it. I don’t want to turn into a zombie on medication.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Not all medications turn you into a zombie.

TWITCH: For someone like me they do. I’d rather feel everything.
Even if it’s anxiety or pain. If I’m feeling those, at least I’m
feeling something. It’s when you stop feeling anything at all
that you’re in real trouble.

JOY: My family has a history of misusing prescription medication.

BENNY: I feel like everyone has at least one crazy aunt that’s
abused fentanyl. It’s genetics or something.

JOY: For once, I actually agree with you.

34
DR. SCHWARTZ: Okay, so if medication isn’t an option for you,
what are some ways in which you manage your symptoms?

BENNY: I just don’t.

This causes an amused reaction from the rest of the group, aside
from the doctor of course.

JOY: Instagram helps me.

TWITCH: I’m sure it does.

JOY: No, really. It’s a very methodical process for me. Staging
the photo, figuring out the caption, the filter. Then watching
the likes come in. It boosts my self esteem.

BENNY: There’s a difference between boosting your self esteem and

craving validation from strangers on the internet.

JOY: They aren’t strangers. They’re my friends.

NICK: How many instagram followers do you have?

JOY: Almost two thousand.

BENNY: And you know all of them? Personally? You have all of
their phone numbers, or you DM them on the regular?

JOY: Well...no, I...I know most of them.

BENNY: Which proves our point. They aren’t your friends. They’re
people judging you on your aesthetic. But will they still be
there when the trends change and you aren’t relevant anymore?

DR. SCHWARTZ (to BENNY, to diffuse tension): What do you do to

manage your symptoms?

BENNY: I told you this in our one-on-one, Doc. I do drugs and

online shop to fill an emotional void. Works out just fine for
me.

35
TWITCH: I spent $3.99 on a stress ball at the craft store a few
months ago.

He produces it from his pocket.

NICK: I don’t know what’s more shocking to me: that you went out
of your way to purchase a stress ball or that you actually
purchased something with money.

TWITCH: I tend to grind my teeth when I’m really in an anxiety

fit. So I usually chew gum. Watermelon. Extra. That’s very
important.

NICK: What does this have to do with the--still shockingly--

purchased stress ball?

TWITCH: I guess like...chewing gum was how I managed. But then I

was out of gum one day, in the craft store. And they didn’t have
Extra by the cash registers, they had Trident and I loathe
Trident. But I needed something. My mind was starting to spin in
that way that it does and my hands started sweating and I started
thinking about every single person I’d spoken to that day, and if
each interaction was an accurate depiction of my true character
or if I could’ve done better. Been more genuine. I don’t know,
I--I just want to be liked I guess. By everyone.

He taps his knee three times before running his hand through his
hair.

TWITCH (con’t): I am always leaving social situations feeling

like I’ve talked too much, or too loudly. Or maybe a thing I said
came across the wrong way and I inadvertently offended them. I
wish I was nicer, gave more compliments. Or maybe I shouldn’t
have eaten my food so fast. Sometimes I get caught up thinking
about how some people can talk so fluently, and how my words just
come out jumbled. They talk almost… gracefully. And I speak like
a bull in a china shop. I’m messy, and twitchy, and too much.

He realizes he’s been rambling and clears his throat, twitching

slightly. The entire circle taps their knee three times before

36
 running their hands through their hair. It should be subtle
enough that it all happens organically, and at varying paces.

I saw the stress ball. I bought it. And it’s so...squishy. And it
helps on days when I don’t have gum. But pretty much every day
it’s gum that helps.

BENNY: That...was a story.

NICK: What a mess we are.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What do you mean?

NICK: We are all just so fucked up. We all have issues so

similar, so specific. I often wish for liberosis in moments like
these, where I can relate to each and everyone here in a way that
almost seems too much.

JOY: Liberosis?

NICK: Liberosis: The desire to care less about things. I’m such
an empath normally that sometimes I think it might be nice to not
feel anything at all.

JOY: I think the fact of the matter is at the root of it all,

we’re anxious. Sad. We’re not fucked up and we’re not crazy.
We’re just a group of sad kids.

TWITCH: I put headphones in everywhere I go because being

engulfed in music makes me feel like maybe I’m not so alone.

NICK: I look at it this way. Some of us do drugs, some listen to

music, or some go for a run*. But in the end, we’re all on this
constant chase to find a moment, a place we can be, just
something to make us feel a bit more...whole. Something to
shelter us from our particularly bleak realities.

BENNY: So...we’re like a really pitiful Breakfast Club.

JOY (smiling, because it’s sort of true): Yeah. A really pitiful

Breakfast Club.

37
 Blackout.

SCENE EIGHT: THE ENCORE PERFORMANCE

ANNOUNCEMENT: Ladies and Gentlemen, comedy’s brightest young

star! Awarded the Best New Act of 2018 by Allure Magazine, you
love her crude humor and distaste for all of modern society! Here
she is, your Headliner, Hope Grier!

Lights up on HOPE, sitting on the stool set dead-center and

hanging onto the microphone stand for dear life. Her hair is
short and blue now, and messy, as if it was haphazardly cut just
recently. It appears as though she hasn’t slept since the last
time we saw her.

38
She removes the mic, bringing it to her lips, but before she can
speak, there is loud feedback from the mic, making her cover her
ears, dropping it. She curses and clambers down to retrieve the
microphone, perching herself back on the stool clumsily. As she
speaks, it’s clear she is not in her right mind and obviously
under the influence of something.

HOPE: Have you ever had an epiphany so sudden and so...sharp that
it made your whole life implode? I mean...life is so confusing,
do you really think anyone would willingly volunteer to be born
if they knew what they would deal with as they grew? Nobody asks
to be born. You do realize that, right? Babies don’t just appear
to you and say “alright, let’s get this party started!” okay?
It’s the parents. The parents decide they want to become parents.
But the thing is, Chicago, some people just really aren’t meant
to be parents.

I don’t have very many pleasant memories of my father. He and I

never really got along. But he’s dead now, so that doesn’t
matter. He wasn’t a good person. He was selfish, prejudiced,
mean. And my mom, well… I know that people are a product of their
environments--I don’t think people are born evil or crazy. I
think some people are triggered and just... become crazy. So
sometimes I take a really hard look at myself in the mirror and
wonder if I’m any better than either of them. People have always
had a habit of leaving me when I have my moments. As the list of
former friends grows, I often wonder if maybe I really am the
problem. People don’t just leave your life without a reason. So,
maybe I’m the reason. Maybe I’m evil. Or crazy. Or both. Either
way, I know I’m a lost cause.

I think the thing that really just gets me about life is the
ever-looming fear that we may never find our purpose. Do you
think about that? How only a select few humans really ever find
the thing they’re meant to do? Most of us just spend our entire
life in the pursuit of what we believe is our purpose, only to
find out much too late in the game that it isn’t what we’re meant
for at all. That terrifies me, Chicago. How do we know we’re on
the right path? What if I’ve wasted all this time doing this when
I should’ve been doing something else all along?

39
I’m afraid I’ve wasted so much time--too much time--trying to be
what I think people want me to be...only to realize I have no
idea who I am. But how can I be sure? How can I be sure I’m not
crazy? How can I be sure I’m on the right life path? How can I be
sure I am a good person?

There’s a quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald that I really like.

Something to the effect of, “It’s never too late to be what you
want to be.” And “if you’re not proud of the life you’re living,
I hope you have the strength to start again.” I’m not proud of
the life I’m living, Chicago. But I don’t think I have the
strength to start again. I really don’t.

A pause. She has nothing else to say so she awkwardly shrugs.

HOPE: It’s been real, I guess.

There is no applause, no laughter. She lurches to her feet. Her

vanity and seat are set quickly, and she sits, resting her
elbows on the vanity and putting her head in her hands. She is
in the middle of a full-blown panic attack.

HOPE: Fuck.

With shaky hands, she opens her phone, realizing she already has
numerous calls from her mother, manager, and some friends. She
presses a button, and the first voicemail plays.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hey, kiddo, it’s me. I just watched your

set...and wow what interesting material you had tonight. Listen,
it’s clear you’re going through a lot, but this has created quite
a mess for me. I’m gonna have to do some serious damage control
here. I’ll keep you posted.

The second voicemail plays.

HOPE’S MOM: Christ, Hope, are you kidding me with this hair? What
on earth were you thinking? I open my voicemail to a dreadful
message from you and then tune in to Comedy Central to watch you
pull this...this stunt!

40
 More voicemails begin to play, all overlapping each other.

HOPE’S MOM (con’t): You have really embarrassed me now, Hope.

Maybe you should rethink this career of yours and come home. Take
a break. Clearly, you can’t handle this kind of pressure.

CHICAGO FRIEND: Hope! Girl! That was amazing last night. Your
hair looks so good! I can’t believe you aren’t dead after not
sleeping for two days, holy shit! I think you left the rest of
your stash at my house last night. Want me to run it by your
show? Hit me up.

HOPE’S MANAGER: Hey, Hope, me again. Apparently now there are

some photographs taken of you last night doing some very illegal
drugs at a club? This is making my job more difficult, kiddo. I’m
a manager, not God.

HOPE takes a small bag from her jacket pocket, her hands shaking
as she opens it. She dips her finger in the bag and runs it
along her gums. Her leg bounces frantically as she runs her
hands through her newly chopped hair. She could be muttering to
herself, scratching at random places on her arms, any sort of
tick that becomes more frantic as the rest of the voicemails
play.

HOPE’S MOM: Congratulations, I have now received a phone call

from nearly every member of our family asking if you are mentally
stable! What am I supposed to tell them, Hope?

HOPE’S MANAGER: Me again. The photos have been leaked by TMZ. E!

News will have it soon...it’s not looking good, kiddo. Here’s the
best solution I’ve been able to come up with. Public apology. Say
you suffered a breakdown due to stress and weren’t in your right
mind and apologize to your younger fanbase for your behavior.
From there, we’ll enter you into a rehabilitation facility,
you’ll get the help you need, and when you’re better, we’ll hash
out a plan of action for a comeback tour. Sound good? Give me a
call whenever you can. We can figure this out together.

The lights begin to fade slowly on HOPE as she sits, still in

the midst of a panic attack.

41
HOPE (voiceover): This past weekend in Chicago was the highest
and the lowest point in my career. I’m afraid that the pressure
of performing on such a big stage so early on in my comedy
journey was too much for me, and I crumbled under that pressure,
making some really bad decisions along the way. I’m sorry to
anyone I’ve hurt or disappointed with my actions. This situation
has shed light on the fact that I can’t do this alone, so I have
decided for the time being to admit myself into a facility where
I can work on my mental health. I’m determined to come back
better than ever for you guys. Thank you for your constant
support.

REPORTER 1: Breaking News following the recent comedy festival in

Chicago, rising young comedienne Hope Grier had an...interesting
set as part of the live encore performance produced by Comedy
Central.

REPORTER 2: Grier, clearly under the influence of alcohol and/or

narcotics left audiences baffled as she slurred through a rather
depressing monologue about the greater meaning of life.

REPORTER 3: Just hours after the bizarre performance, pictures

leaked depicting Miss Grier partying with friends the night
before. I do want to warn you, these images portray graphic
images of cocaine use.

REPORTER 1: She was out with friends the night before her encore
performance, which you’d think would be a big deal for her,
right? I’m just finding it difficult to pinpoint why she’d think
it would be a good idea to go out and party hours before what
could potentially be the performance that takes her career to the
next level. This is how you can get picked up by Netflix or HBO
and really do some awesome things with your talent, and she’s
essentially thrown that away.

REPORTER 2: I couldn’t agree more. This kind of behavior is

reckless and really brings attention to the fact that she is as
young as she is. Maybe being so ambitious at such an age was too
much pressure for her.

42
REPORTER 1: I’ll hand it to her, I couldn’t have stayed awake for
that long and not had a mental breakdown. I love to sleep!

REPORTER 2: Right there with ya!

REPORTER 3: In a joint statement, Miss Grier and her manager

revealed she would be checking herself into a private mental
health facility outside of Santa Barbara, California. Her family
has given no comment.

Blackout.

SCENE NINE: JOY’S PRIVATE SESSION

The familiar camera setup is in place. Our metronome provides a

soft underscore.

DR. SCHWARTZ: So when did your symptoms of anorexia first

manifest themselves?

JOY: It started as a diet in high school. My friend and I decided

we wanted to lose a few pounds before prom, so we started when we
got back from Christmas Break.

It was healthy competition at first. We cut out sugary foods, and

then fried foods. I saw results gradually. I ended up losing more
weight initially, and I think that made her a little jealous.
Then one day she came in and reported she’d lost three pounds
overnight by skipping breakfast and lunch the day before. I
suddenly felt the need to match her weight loss. I knew she
wasn’t doing it in a healthy way, but I wanted to win, I guess.
I’m not normally a competitive person, but in this case, I wanted
to win.

I remember when I finally got to my first goal size, I bought a

pair of jeans to reward myself. At this point, I wasn’t eating
anything for breakfast or lunch, and only eating grilled chicken
and mixed veggies for dinner. No dessert, no carbs, nothing to
drink but water. It was...miserable. But I kept getting so many
compliments. Even my dad noticed, and he didn’t usually notice
things like that.

43
Everyone noticed. Because in the span of a month, I’d lost nearly
twenty-five pounds. Of course, that wasn’t all fat. There’s water
weight...muscle loss. Yes, it was a significant change in the
scale but my body was suffering. I couldn’t walk from one side of
school to the other without having to stop and catch my breath.
But that didn’t matter. Just like it didn’t matter that my arms
got tired in the shower when I was washing my hair. Or that I had
to lay in bed for nearly an hour after that shower because I
didn’t quite have the strength to get dressed. But I had to keep
going. I hadn’t reached my goal weight at that point. That stupid
number I’d just decided on one day now haunted me. I had to get
there. I had to.

I eat more now than I did then. But then there are longer spans
of time where I just...forget to eat. Sometimes I’m so anxious my
stomach churns to the point that even the thought of food makes
me sick.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Does anyone notice or bring attention to these

behavioral patterns? Your friends? Family?

JOY: My family did. But my family are also the people that brush
scandalous things under the rug. They couldn’t risk anyone
knowing I was anorexic. And my friends, well...they thought I was
doing it for attention. Which is why I don’t have many friends
left.

DR. SCHWARTZ: It must be hard spending so much time alone.

JOY: It’s not so hard. We’re all going to die alone anyway. Might
as well really get to know ourselves.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s an interesting way to put it.

JOY: I love myself. And people call me self-indulgent because I

like to post a lot on Instagram. But I don’t think loving
yourself is selfish.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I completely agree. Can I ask you something?

44
JOY: Sure.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What about Benny?

JOY: What do you mean?

DR. SCHWARTZ: It just seems like you two have some prior history,
that’s all.

JOY: Oh, no. You think Benny and I--? Absolutely not.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Apologies for the confusion. I’m so sorry.

JOY: No, it’s okay. Benny just reminds me of someone I used to

know. Someone I cared about very much but Benny...Benny makes me
understand why things never would’ve worked between us anyway.

DR. SCHWARTZ: That’s incredibly smart that you can understand

that and make that distinction.

JOY: I’ve always known to never let an old flame burn me twice.
Benny just really proves my point. Nick told me I suffer from
pistanthrophobia? I think it means “the fear of trusting people”
and is apparently why I’m still single.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I think the only reason you’re single is because

you want to be. And to me, that’s a pretty good reason. Your
worth doesn’t rest on the opinion of others.

JOY: Ah, but didn’t you hear them the other day, Doctor Schwartz?
Of course it does. That’s why I’ve got an Instagram account in
the first place isn’t it? What would I be without my collection
of trendy, well-captioned candids?

DR. SCHWARTZ: Weren’t you listening? Your worth doesn’t rest on

the opinion of others. In romantic relationships or friendships.
You do what makes you happy. Who cares if it isn’t someone else’s
cup of tea? Could you imagine how boring it would be if every
human being on this earth liked and disliked the same things?

JOY: Yeah, I guess that does seem silly.

45
DR. SCHWARTZ: Imagine how boring!

JOY: I’d have to like Dollar Shave Club. Or become a

kleptomaniac.

DR. SCHWARTZ: See, I think you’re much better off with your
Instagram, don’t you?

They laugh together, JOY suddenly feeling very reassured. She

feels like she’s been heard for the first time in awhile.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Can I ask you another question? Off the record?

JOY: Sure.

DR. SCHWARTZ: What’s a candid? Is that like a selfie?

JOY: No, a selfie is a selfie, just of like, your face. A candid

is a photo that you get someone else to take of you. Usually you
stage it so you’re in the middle of some kind of action. Like
maybe sipping a glass of wine, or laughing over your shoulder.
You know, something cute.

DR. SCHWARTZ: But if you stage it, doesn’t that make it not
candid?

JOY: Oh, Doctor. I have a lot to teach you. Now give me your
phone.

DR. SCHWARTZ produces her cell phone from her blazer pocket and
hands it to JOY.

JOY: Now the first thing we’re going to learn is The Prune.

Blackout.

46
SCENE TEN: ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

HOPE has joined our Breakfast Club, our stories finally joining.
It’s uncomfortable for everyone. TWITCH is sporting his hat,
chain, and now several rings on the fingers of both hands. The
metronome feels a little louder in this scene, a little faster.
It drives the tension.

BENNY (to HOPE): What’s your story?

HOPE: Are you always this pleasant?

NICK: I saw the live feed of your performance in Chicago.

HOPE: Lucky you.

NICK: I’d seen some other clips of you on YouTube before. You’re
really funny when you’re not...you know, like this. I never
thought you’d be such an eccedentesiast.

TWITCH: A what?

NICK: Eccedentesiast, noun. Someone who hides pain behind a

smile. You use comedy to hide the fact that you’re just as fucked
up as the rest of us.

HOPE: Stop right there, Urban Dictionary. I’m here just until the
scandal dies down and then I’m out.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Actually, you’re released when we’ve determined

you’re no longer a danger to yourself.

HOPE: I’m not a danger to myself. And I’m certainly not like the
rest of these psychopaths.

JOY: Charming.

47
NICK: You can call us what you want but we aren’t the ones who
had a breakdown on national television, sweetie.

TWITCH: What happened? The weight of the world become too much?

HOPE: Maybe not as dramatic as that. I got fucked up before the

show and said some crazy things. End of story.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Hey, there is no need to be combative or defensive.

Everyone here feels the same things you do. We’re all on the same
side.

BENNY: Nah, I’m not a fan of the Hollywood wannabe vibe. I hate
that fake shit.

HOPE: This act that you put on is pretty transparent, asshole.

You’re going to end up pushing everyone away until you’ll have
nobody. But you care way too much about what everyone thinks. So
you’ll be nice enough to keep them dangling by a thread, to try
and reassure yourself that you aren’t a complete piece of shit.

TWITCH: Roasted.

HOPE: And you, with the twitchy legs. Shoplifting doesn’t make
you cool. But I like your rings.

TWITCH: Thanks, I appreciate that a lot. I’d like to think I have

good taste. Would you like a piece of gum?

HOPE: Only if it’s watermelon flavored. Extra if you have it. I

loathe Trident.

He wordlessly offers her a piece of watermelon gum. A moment of

confusion passes between the two of them.

TWITCH: M’lady.

JOY: Shut up, Twitch.

HOPE (to JOY): Don’t even get me started on you. Where should I
begin? Every aspect of your being is completely groomed and

48
filtered to be the most appealing to the outside world. Only
because you actually can’t stand yourself. You love to be loved,
adored by people on the internet who you will probably never
meet. All for what? Honestly. I’m genuinely curious.

JOY: No, you aren’t curious. You’re just a bitch.

HOPE: You want to be saved. Your persona is the fragile,

beautiful, tragic girl who is just so very sad because you think
it adds a level of romance to your bleak personality. Pathetic.

NICK: Damn, you are a bitch.

HOPE: I’m not. I just have a history of caring too much about
what others think of me. So now I’ve decided to not care at all.

TWITCH: Which one is worse?

HOPE: I’m not sure.

BENNY: So what happened to you, huh? Who fucked you up so badly

that you’ve just shut out everything and thrown your whole life
away? I know the game you’re playing because I play the same one.

HOPE: What do you mean?

BENNY: You don’t talk about your feelings because you have nobody
to talk to. You’ve shut out everyone and everything and replaced
them with that little bag of white powder because it’s the only
way you can stand to be you. You could’ve had anything you wanted
and instead, you self-sabotaged everything because you decided
you just didn’t want to try anymore.

HOPE: I fucking tried. I busted my ass.

BENNY: And when things got difficult, or there was too much
“pressure”, you decided to say “fuck it.”

HOPE: That’s not true. I...remembered something.

49
BENNY: Or you were just so fucked up you created a scenario in
your head that never actually happened.

JOY: Benny, stop.

HOPE (to JOY): I don’t need your help.

BENNY: Have you ever stopped to think that this drama you’re
dealing with might just be a product of your own imagination?

DR. SCHWARTZ: Alright, I think that’s enough for today, everyone.

Let’s meet back here tomorrow.

As they file offstage, the doctor stops the metronome, calling

out to HOPE.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Would you mind staying behind for a few minutes,
Hope? I wanted to get some one-on-one time in today.

HOPE: I have nothing better to do before dinner so why not?

She sits beside the doctor, who pulls out her camera and tripod
and quickly sets it up. She also pulls a laptop out of her
messenger bag, opening it on her lap.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I was reading the statements your mother gave when
you first came to the facility. Do you mind if we go over them
together?

HOPE: I guess.

DR. SCHWARTZ: So the night that you went out, prior to the encore
Comedy Central performance, that was April 18th, correct?

HOPE: If that’s what it said, yeah.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Can you walk me through that night?

HOPE: I’d just finished a radio interview. It was maybe eleven in

the morning? My mom and I were supposed to get lunch, I thought
but as per usual...she had better things to do. I called her so

50
many times. I was just really looking forward to talking to her,
you know? To be able to talk to my mom about the tour, and the
encore show, and how this was a huge opportunity for me. She
doesn’t understand how lonely it was for me... She never
understands. She…

She taps her fingers against her knee three times before running
her hand through her hair.

DR. SCHWARTZ: So your mom didn’t answer her phone. What happened
after that?

HOPE: My friend picked me up. We went to her house and then out
to a few clubs and just did a lot of cocaine. I’ve dabbled with
coke but I’ve never been that high before.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Your mother said you sent her several concerning
text messages.

HOPE: Shocking. She didn’t respond to any of them.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Why did you send those messages?

HOPE: In the middle of the last bar I was dancing and suddenly
I...remembered something about my childhood. It was like a box in
the back dusty corners of my brain opened up, and this memory
just returned, after being forgotten for so long. It was
something I told her a long time ago. Something that she covered
up, brushed under the rug. Something she should’ve fixed but she
didn’t, because it was my dad and he...nobody could know.

DR. SCHWARTZ looks as if she wants to ask more, but she doesn’t.
She finally takes a breath, clicking something on the computer.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I’m going to show you something now. And it’s going
to be very hard to watch. But you need to see it. Okay?

She presses a button on the laptop, and the audience hears the
video as HOPE watches it. It should quickly become clear that
these are the tapes DR. SCHWARTZ has been recording of everyone

51
 throughout the whole show. Only this time, there is only one
patient you hear speaking.

(DR. SCHWARTZ’S VOICE: Alright, you don’t need to worry about the
camera. Nobody else will see this so you don’t need to filter
anything. It’s just you and me. Okay? What’s your name?)

(HOPE’S VOICE: Nicholas Andrew Reid. But you can call me Nick. I
prefer Nick, actually. Please don’t call me Nicholas.)

(DR. SCHWARTZ’S VOICE: That sounds good to me. How old are you?)

(HOPE’S VOICE: Twenty-three. Practically thirty.)

HOPE looks at the doctor, confused.

HOPE: I don’t understand.

The video continues to play. It’s NICK’S session, but HOPE’S

voice.

(DR. SCHWARTZ’S VOICE: Do you think you’re crazy?)

(HOPE’S VOICE: No. I think my brain developed a coping mechanism

to something that it didn’t like, and now I compulsively do
strange things.)

HOPE (to DR. SCHWARTZ): That’s me...but I don’t remember saying

this. Why did I say my name was Nick?

DR. SCHWARTZ: How about this one?

She reaches over and plays another video. This time, it’s BENNY’S
session.

(HOPE’S VOICE: When they told me my sister was going to be born,

I guess I had a psychotic breakdown? Apparently I destroyed a
mattress and screamed for fourteen hours straight in a hotel on a
family vacation. It wasn’t good. So they hired a child
psychologist to...diagnose me. I guess that explains a lot about
me now.)

52
(DR. SCHWARTZ’S VOICE: Meaning?)

(HOPE’S VOICE: I’m not a good person.)

(DR. SCHWARTZ’S VOICE: I wouldn’t go that far.)

(HOPE’S VOICE: My mom and I don’t quite understand each other.

She’s so good and selfless and I’m not.)

HOPE is dumbfounded.

HOPE: Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?

DR. SCHWARTZ: The texts that you sent your mother, they were
about an incident that occurred with your father years ago. It
was something you’d blocked out of your mind for a very long time
but when you went on that cocaine binge, the memories all came
back.

HOPE: Stop. I don’t want to talk about it.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Your father molested you, Hope. It is a very

horrible, terrible thing to happen to a little girl--

HOPE: Please. He’s dead now. Those memories died with him.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I know you told your mother. And I know she didn’t
respond the way you needed her to. And I know that you harbor a
lot of resentment towards her for that.

HOPE: Do you know what she said to me? When I finally had the
courage to tell her, years after the fact? “Oh.” I told her that
he snuck into my room and locked the door behind him and all she
could say was “oh”.

DR. SCHWARTZ: I want to help you.

HOPE: Fuck you. I just got here, you don’t know shit about me
except for bullshit notes you wrote in your stupid report. You
don’t know me.

53
DR. SCHWARTZ: Hope, how long do you think you’ve been here?

HOPE: What do you mean? The encore show was five days ago. This
is my third day here.

DR. SCHWARTZ smiles sadly before pointing to the laptop.

DR. SCHWARTZ: This video was filmed in June. The encore show was
in April. Right now, at this moment, it is September.

HOPE: I--I don’t...What? But what about everyone else?

They...they’re all--they’re...they’re me? You’ve just been
letting me think I’ve been a part of a group this whole time
rather than just...tell me?

DR. SCHWARTZ: The theory is that maybe they were imaginary

friends when you were young, and after the trauma with your
father, they manifested again. But this time instead of external,
imaginary beings, they were very real to you. Until they
became...part of you.

Wordlessly, she starts the metronome, its ticking seeming to

spark something in HOPE.

HOPE (almost numb): My dad was a musician. We had a piano in our

house growing up, before my parents separated. There was a
metronome on top of the piano. I always played with it. He always
yelled at me.

BENNY enters, standing just over the doctor’s shoulder, staring

at HOPE.

BENNY: He yelled at you and then he left. And no matter how much
you hate him, you’re going to find little bits of him in every
man you date. You made me to remind you what you don’t want in a
partner.

DR. SCHWARTZ: It’s easy to see how some of your personas

manifested.

54
 NICK enters, standing behind BENNY.

NICK: Comedians have always been wordsmiths, you know.

HOPE: I liked to perform from a young age. I would write stories,

create characters… I loved to make up places and names.

DR. SCHWARTZ: And words.

NICK: “Compunction”. A feeling of guilt after committing a

wrongful act. Exactly how you felt after blowing the encore show.

One by one, the rest of our support group enters, hovering

behind the doctor. She cannot see them, but HOPE does.

JOY: You’ve always wanted to be liked. You crave validation.

TWITCH: You feel like everyone is watching you because they are.

HOPE (to DR. SCHWARTZ): Are you saying I’ve made up all these
fucked up people in my head?

DR. SCHWARTZ stops the metronome. The support group exits

without a second glance.

DR. SCHWARTZ: We’ve had this conversation before. Many times. It

lasts for awhile until you finally believe me, and then as soon
as you leave this room again, you go back to the way things were,
as if this never happened.

HOPE: I...I’m crazy.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Not crazy, just ill. And we will help you. We just
need to figure out how.

HOPE: No. That shit...that’s crazy. I’m crazy.

DR. SCHWARTZ: You’re not. Something terrible happened to you and

this is your response to it. We will help you.

A long pause. This new information is settling in HOPE’S mind.

55
HOPE: You said that every time I leave this room, I don’t
remember this conversation?

DR. SCHWARTZ: It’s like every time you pass through those doors,
it resets.

HOPE is completely defeated, staring at the doctor for a moment

before handing her back her laptop and trudging towards the
door.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Hope? Walking away won’t stop us from having this
conversation tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after
that.

HOPE: No, I guess not. But I’d like to go back to a time where I
wasn’t a complete psychopath, please.

Without another word, she leaves.

Blackout.

SCENE ELEVEN: ANXIETIES ANONYMOUS

The stage is set exactly as it was at the beginning of the

show. A circle of chairs. A two-way mirror. DR. SCHWARTZ and
HOPE’S MOM are standing behind the two-way mirror. The only
difference is that HOPE is the only one in the circle. The
metronome is ticking.

DR. SCHWARTZ: Your daughter is adjusting well to the program. As

expected, it’s still taking time to assimilate herself into the
way things work around our facility but I do have faith that
we’ll start seeing some results of treatment very soon.

HOPE’S MOM: Good. That’s good. Her manager will love to hear
that. When can we arrange a visit?

56
DR. SCHWARTZ: We typically don’t allow patients to see anyone
until we’ve gotten a proper assessment of their behaviors. It
helps us to develop a game plan should any episodes happen inside
the facility.

HOPE’S MOM: Episodes like...what happened last time?

DR. SCHWARTZ: Maybe. It could be different. It’s difficult to

tell with cases like these. But if everything goes smoothly with
her transition into the program, she should be ready for visitors
by the beginning of next month.

They glance into the two-way mirror, watching HOPE talk to

herself in her seat. She mirrors the same way the previous
characters acted, but she is full-on having conversations with
herself.

HOPE/JOY: I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately. Staring

into the void. The finality and uncertainty of it all. What
happens after we die? Is there a God--a heaven? Or is it just
nothing? We live as long as we can to just...not anymore?

HOPE: You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me this is a joke.

HOPE/NICK: I learned a new word today. Philophobia. The fear of

being in love or falling in love.

HOPE/BENNY: That’s cheery.

HOPE’S MOM (still behind the glass): So this is what happens? All
day long?

DR. SCHWARTZ: All day long.

The metronome ticks for a few more moments until it stops

abruptly. HOPE glances up at the audience. JOY, BENNY, NICK, &
TWITCH all enter to stand behind her seat. They touch her
shoulder, gripping it almost protectively. Collectively, they
smile.

Blackout.

57
58