He: But I just don't understand why you feel the need?
She: No, you don't.
He: Can you explain?
She: I can try.
She: But the thing is you can't explain the unexplainable. Hey, I have this weird need to see my own blood and I make it happen. Just a drop and I feel better. How is that an explanation? It doesn't psychoanalyze why that need is there to begin with. I can't explain that one, I have no clue whatsoever.
He: yeah, I still don't really get it but thanks for trying I guess.
She: He's completely turned off now, thinks I'm a creep. A freak, a major problem that needs solving. But he also thinks he can save me, that it doesn't have to be this way. But it's always been like this. Since the first pimple got squeezed to death at age 11.
He: so, like, when you have a nosebleed you're happy?
She: No, that's not voluntary.
He: or when your gums bleed
She: no, both of those are a sign of something being wrong with you
He: so, it needs to be on purpose? And that's not a sign of something being wrong with you?
She: why would anyone hurt themselves on purpose? It's bonkers. It goes against all survival instincts. It's completely messed up. I know, I know, I know. But there are so many unexplained things in this world, why do we need to solve this one? Why can't you just let me be?
He: will you promise me to try stopping this, it's not healthy for you.
She: healthy? I'm not cutting big strips off my skin off, I'm just seeing a tiny bit of blood.
He: you cut yourself?
She: not like, what's so special about the emo cake kind of way
She: it cuts itself...
He: you think this is funny?
She: it's not about being funny. It's not even about the pain so much like you see in the movies. It's about something hidden being seen, about getting proof of life running through your veins. I don't know. I just like it. It quiet things down. I need a bit of quiet.
He: I think we need to see someone
She: because I'm the bonkers one
She: you have to turn the key twice, OCD. You can't stand the sight of spiders. Phobia. You have an issue with the way your father speaks to your mother. Daddy issues. You get bored easily. ADHD. You have fewer fucks to give than the average Joe. Sociopath. Everyone is on 'the spectrum'. Of course, apart from the person telling you that you're crazy, they are perfect in any way shape or form.
He: If you cared for me you wouldn't treat yourself like this.
She: If you cared for me you wouldn't try and change me.
Hi, this is a little experiment in writing, where I will write one short play (most of which will be awful) a day for the month of February. They're not polished, there are no rules, I just write them and post them. But I have to post one a day.