The Play About Post Secret (8.1.12)

Prompt: Go to Post Secret and write a play based on one of the posts you find.

Side note: I technically broke the rules twice during the course of this first entry. First was to not write a play based on an already existing idea - it has actually occurred to me to write a play about Post Secret before. A fleeting idea that never came to fruition, but an idea. Second, I was only supposed to pick one secret. But I couldn't limit myself. Hopefully you'll like it.

#1: THE PLAY ABOUT POST SECRET
 

(Lights up on a teenage couple: Person A and Person B. They are of undetermined gender. They could be a man + woman, man + man, woman + woman, man + transgender, woman + hermaphrodite. It’s unimportant. They are sitting and drinking a bottle wine)

A: Tell me something.

B: What?

A: I don’t know. Anything.

B: You gotta be a little more specific than that.

A: Something spontaneous.

B: Spontaneous?

A: Just don’t even think. Just say something. Anything.

B: Um…

(B thinks)

A: I don’t even give a fuck. Something you haven’t told someone.

(A pause)

A: C’mon anything. I’m half a bottle of red wine deep and I’m gonna fall asleep if you don’t tell me something.

B: Don’t fall asleep.

A: I’m gonna if you don’t tell me something.

B: I don’t like telling people secrets.

A: Why? It can be fun.

B: I have a hard time trusting people.

A: Isn’t that a secret?

B: What?

A: That you have a hard time trusting people?

B: No, not really, I guess.

A: Is that something you just openly admit to people? That you have trust issues?

B: Well…no.

A: Then it’s a secret.

B: No. Not really. I have no problem admitting it, but just because I don’t tell everyone I meet doesn’t make it a secret.

A: You’re so boring.

B: Am not.

A: Just humor me. Tell me one secret. (beat) I’ll even tell you one if you want.

B: Ok. (beat) Last year I got foot surgery…and…now everytime I have to poop, I can feel it. In my foot. Like my foot knows I have to poop or something.

(A laughs)

A: That’s funny. That’s really funny.

B: Your turn.

A: Let me get a little inspiration first.

(She takes a swig from the bottle)

A: Alrightalright. I got it. (beat) Weed gives me the shits too. Everytime I smoke, I shit. I think it’s the best laxative known to man.

(B takes the bottle and takes another swig)

B: Wanna know something else?

A: Sure.

B: I’m fucking broke. (beat) I’m so fucking broke that I couldn’t afford my last co-pay for my medication. My doctor paid for it. My own fucking doctor.

A: That’s a good doctor.

B: I’m so grateful.

A: I’m grateful too.

B: Why?

A: Because you just told me another secret completely involuntarily. Let’s keep going.

B: Fine. You next.

A: I am terrified I will never be as great as my sister. All I ever wanted was for my mom to be proud of my choices in life. All I ever get from her is criticism and condescending remarks. Even still, I love her.

B: I don’t know why I drink. Sometimes I do it just because I’m not allowed to.

A: I was in love with my best friend until I found out (he/she) had sex with my step (brother/sister). Now I can’t even look at (her/him).

B: I’m not racist. But I’m afraid of black guys.

A: I think the best thing about a photo is that it never changes. Even if the people in it do.

B: I feel I just want what I can’t have, so I break good hearts over and over for nothing.

A: The only (guy/girl) I ever had sex with told me that (he/she) felt ashamed and guilt about what (he/she) did and that (he/she) is afraid to come near me. That’s what I get for attempting to get closer to people.

B: I only remember flashes of images. I was waiting for love and suddenly my ex and I weren’t dating.

A: I’ve been self-mutilating since I was 5. I’ve tried to kill myself 8 times. I should be dead by now.

B: I cried when I figured out that Athiesm was the only logical solution.

A: When I tell my sister not to consider suicide, I feel like a hypocrite.

B: I hate myself.

A: I have to be high in order to tolerate my parents.

B: I killed someone.

(A beat)

A: What?

B: Never mind.

A: You killed someone?

B: No.

A: Then why did you say it?

B: I don’t know. I was joking.

A: You weren’t joking. I know it.

B: Fine I did kill someone.

(A silence)

B: And now I’m going to have to kill you because you’re going to tell someone.

(A gets up and backs away)

B: That’s why I hate telling secrets, ok? I have trust issues and I killed someone. Alright? And now I’m going to kill you because you’re going to tell and now you’re just going to be another one of my secrets.

(B moves closer to A)

A: No, stop!

(B tries to strangle A. A finally knocks B down)

A: I don’t care.

B: What?

A: I said I don’t care.

B: You certainly acted like it.

A: I told you I tried to commit suicide. In fact I compulsively try to end my life constantly. Why should I care if you ended someone else’s?

B: Then wouldn’t you not cared if I killed you?

A: Yes, I would.

B: Why?

A: Because right now, you’re making me feel like there might be at least one reason to live. Because I know now there’s someone right here who is just as fucked up as me. And that’s enough for me. At least for right now.

(They kiss. Lights fade)