Scene 1

The play opens in a 1950s psychiatric ward on the stage. It includes Perfectionist’s room and the hallway. The color white overpowers the story’s color scheme. The hallway has white painted walls, with wide floor-to-ceiling windows. A large grandfather clock sits against the wall in the middle of the hallway. Light floods from the windows to the room, there is no view through the windows, just white space. The floors are birch-colored wood in a herringbone pattern. Perfectionist’s room has a shorter but still wide window with a floral curtain. In the tight room, is a white iron-framed bed, with only two light blue paper-thin blankets, and one pillow. The only other furniture in the room is a small wooden nightstand near the bed and a chair in a corner of the room near the door. The sound of a clock ticking plays Perfectionist begins to wake up in the bed as Nurse Anxious enters the room.

 

Nurse Anxious

Well, look who’s finally awake. I can see your new medication is working. How are you feeling?

[Perfectionist sits up on the bed, her head on her hand appearing to have a pounding headache]

 

Perfectionist

Where the fuck am I exactly? And who the hell are you?

 

Nurse Anxious

Now, those pills must really be working their magic if you can’t even remember your favorite nurse, Nurse Anxious, darling.

 

Perfectionist

That’s wonderful, really, but where am I?

 

Nurse Anxious

All right, all right. I’ll tell you since it appears you really can’t remember. We’re in the Abstractual Asylum. 

 

Perfectionist

That can’t be right, I’m not insane. Stressed yes, but not insane. There clearly had to have been a mistake. I don’t belong here. I can assure you that. 

[Perfection gets out of bed and begins to walk into the hallway]

I’ll be leaving. Where is your exit? Never mind, I see it, thank you for whatever it is you did for me, but I should leave here as soon as possible.

 

[Perfectionist walks towards the two large exit doors but is stopped and restrained by two guards.]

 

Perfectionist

What the fuck are you doing to me? Let me go! I can’t move, let go of me, you bastards!

 

[Perfectionist behinds to breathe heavily. Her eyes can’t focus on a single object, tears roll down her face. Heavy, rapid, and short breaths are all she can do as she struggles to breathe. She struggles to free herself from the guards’ grip. The lack of freedom her skin had from the guards’ hand made her only more unsettled. Her muscles become tense and her heart races. She starts to tremble as Nurse Anxious approaches with a syringe.]

 

Nurse Anxious

I’m sorry darling but you can’t leave, not until you’re better. Some sleep will make you feel better. 

[Nurse Anxious administer a syringe into Perfectionist’s arm and she quickly falls asleep as the stage light dims and the ticking noise stops]

​

Scene 2

The lights turn on again in Perfectionist’s room and the ticking noise begins again. Fellow patient, Overwhelming, is sitting in the chair from the corner, he’s perched right next to Perfectionist in bed. Watching over her as she begins to wake up again. She groggily wakes up, frightened by the sight of Overwhelming sitting so close to her.

​

Overwhelming

Good morning sunshine. Someone clearly got the good drugs. [He laughs to himself]

 

Perfectionist

Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’d really appreciate you taking a few steps back. No, I’d rather you leave the room entirely. I don’t necessarily find the idea of an asshole watching me sleep all that charming. [She sits up on the bed, shifting her body perpendicular to the length of the bed. Her feet dangle from the bed as she covers herself with the blankets.]

 

Overwhelming

See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not leaving simply because you want me to. No, sweetie, I’m staying with you for however long I feel like. Because no matter how hard you try to make it seem like you’re feeling okay or normal on the outside, I’m always going to be with you in here. [He taps his index finger against the temple of his head, with a grim slapped across his face]

 

Perfectionist

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am normal, so normal that I shouldn’t be here. You on the other hand clearly do belong here, because I have never seen you before in my life.
 

Overwhelming

Oh, come on, you know exactly who I am. I’m that feeling you have when your head is spinning with a million things to do and there are not enough hours in the day for you to even process it all. You can’t even tell the difference between a rational thought from an irrational thought. 

 

[Perfectionist stares blankly at Overwhelming, sighing deeply. Overwhelming leans back into the chair.]

 

I know you best when you are feeling out of control. You hate nothing more than having no control. Everyday stresses become too much for you to control, you feel like you're drowning. You're fighting to keep yourself above water with a weight on your ankle pulling you down into the dark abyss of the ocean. And right when you freed yourself from the weight, you’re hit with a wave that pushes you deep into the water. Again you're fighting to keep yourself afloat, and the cycle just continues. And so you feel all alone, you think no one will understand you. But, sweetie, you’re never truly alone, I have always been there and will be. Who do you think will make sure you stay in the water?

 

Perfectionist

You are truly insane. You have no idea what I hate or don’t hate. You know nothing about me. I have entertained you and your crazing thoughts long enough. It’s time for you to fuck off.

 

[Overwhelming stands up, pushing the chair with the back of his legs.]

 

Overwhelming

Very well, I’ll leave you, I’ve said all that I needed to say. But I’ll leave you with one last thought. Who do you think is the one that put you in the water in the first place? 

[Overwhelming exits the stage]

 

Perfectionist

Sweet Jesus.

 

[Perfectionist walks towards the hallway, checking for any possible nurses that would stop her. She quietly tries to run to the exit door. The stage lights turn off and the ticking noise stops.]
 

Scene 3

The lights turn on again in Perfectionist’s room and the ticking noise begins again. Perfectionist wakes up to a different nurse. She is carrying a tray with a cup of water and a cup of pills.

​

Nurse Apathy

Good, you’re awake. You had us worried when you bolted for the exit doors again. [She laughs softly to herself.] You woke up just in time for your medication. Don’t worry, you’ll be back to sleep in no time. Here, just swallow.

 [Nurse Apathy hands Perfectionist her pills and water.]

 

Perfectionist

Bite me.

 

Nurse Apathy

Such an enthusiastic spirit. Quickly now.

 

[Nurse Apathy watches Perfectionist and waits until the pills are swallowed. Numbed and fatigued by the chemicals released in her brain, Perfectionist’s posture softens and her eyelids become heavy. Nurse Apathy slowly lies her head down on top of the bed. Covers her with the thin as-paper bed sheets and wraps Perfectionist with the thin light-blue blanket.]

 

[Nurse Apathy exits the room The door shuts, and the sound echoes in Perfectionist’s head. She simply laid on her side staring at the white light from the window flooding her room. No shadows of trees or animals from outside hit the floor, only white light. She stares blankly, her face and body motionless. Her mind is running through a hundred thoughts per second and yet thinking of nothing at the same time. Not a single thought is interesting enough to focus on.]

 

Perfectionist

[Breathing heavily. She speaks softly] I need to get up. I need to leave. I need to run. I need to...Goddamn it.

 

[The weight of her eyelids eventually became too heavy and crashed her sight to the dark abbess of her mind. Her consciousness dims as she slips into sleep. For a brief moment between life and nightmares, is the second of peace. A calm wave across the mind before the storm of being the victim of our own worst fears. The stage lights turn off and the ticking noise stops.]

 

Scene 4

The stage light slowly turns on again to Perfectionist waking up in her bed again, but with no one around for the first time. She sits up and looks around the room, the emptiness from a lack of noise, except the clocking ticking makes her uneasy. She gets out of the bed and quietly shuffles to the door. She turns her head to both ends of the hallway, looking for any sign of life. Nothing, just the grandfather clock in the middle of the room. She needed to escape but chose to go in the opposite direction this time. Barely making it to the end, muffled voices arise. She quickly ends the nearest room and closes the door. The tight room has two-tone painted walls, white on the top half and grey on the bottom half. There are no windows, the only source of light is the fading lightbulb in the ceiling. On the left side of the room is a small wooden bed with only one pillow and one blanket. A stool in the right corner is the only other piece of furniture. She was startled to see someone, a scraggly figure sitting on the stool.

​

Mediocrity

My face isn’t that shit, come, sit down. Seeing as you barged into my home sweet home, the least you can do is offer me some company, only for a little while. We have much to discuss you and I.

 

[Perfectionist sits down on the bed, across from Mediocrity. She looks at him with confusion and suspension]

 

Perfectionist

What would you and I have to discuss? 

 

Mediocrity

I know you more than you know yourself. I’m Mediocrity. 

 

Perfectionist

That’s absurd, how can a man in an insane asylum have the slightest clue who I am, much less know me better than myself? I should leave now before you pull out some psychic shit and tell me my astrological is upsetting the moon.

 

Mediocrity

Oh shut it won’t you, and just listen to someone other than yourself. I know that you only want to achieve the impossible standard of excellence that you set up for yourself. Anything else is worthless and so you think of yourself as worthless too. You fear me, you can’t even tolerate the thought of me. You are trapped in a prison of your own making. You only want greatness, yet your efforts are nothing but subpar. All you do is compare yourself to everyone else’s success and refuse to open your eyes to the sea of people that are also struggling. Do you honestly think any successful person did everything right or perfectly the first time? You need to stop beating and punishing yourself for being less successful than someone else. 

 

Perfectionist

But how can I forgive myself for not being good enough? If everything can come so easily to everyone then something has to be wrong with me. And if something is wrong with me, then no one will want me. No one wants someone that’s inadequate.

 

Mediocrity

You are viewing life from an imperfect lens. You intimately know every struggle, mistake, and dark thought that you ever had. And yet, all you are fed are the same easy, struggle-free achievements and success of everyone else around you. Everyone isn’t free from the nightmare of failing. Can’t you see that you are killing yourself from within? You are torturing yourself by saying that you’re “not good enough,” always hypercritizing yourself.

​

Perfectionist

I just constantly feel inadequate and I’m tired of feeling that way, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am, I can’t change it, so fuck it.

 

Mediocrity

Perfectionism is only a delusion, it’s unrealistic and never helps you in the end. You lack confidence in yourself, and every decision you make is done with hesitation. Perfectionism isn’t you, you are all you need. Because when things really do go to shit, who do you think drove the car? Who do you think will leave you deserted? You only have yourself in the end, and by constantly abusing yourself do you think you’ll survive? No, you’re left with nothing, no success, no satisfaction, no support, and no one will be able to save you from your own dark thoughts. 

 

[A blanket of silence surrounded the room. Perfectionist looks down at the ground, feeling naked in front of the stranger that stripped back all her layers of distress and vulnerability.]

 

Mediocrity

Look, kid, perfectionism is a disease. You are not to blame for its presence. You have a battle ahead with your own twisted mind, but I know you’re strong enough to fight it. You have so much value and goodness to offer the world, don’t close yourself off from it yet.

 

[Perfectionist didn’t say a word, not even a nod. She simply looked up into the man’s eyes for the first time. She stood up and began to walk towards the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back one last time.]
 

Perfectionist

Thank you.

​

Mediocrity

Go, fuck off before you have me sitting in my own tears.

 

[Perfectionist walks out the door and into the hallway. The light in Medicrity’s room turns off and she returns to her room. She finds Nurse Apathy waiting for her with her second dose of medication. She quietly complies and goes to bed. The stage lights turn off and the ticking noise stops.]

​

Scene 5

The stage light slowly turns on again to Perfectionist in bed, and the ticking noise resumes. She is awakened by the footsteps of a doctor entering the room. She sits up facing the doctor that is sitting in the chair across from her. He extends his hand for a shake.

 

Dr. Pluck

Hello Perfectionist, I’m Dr. Pluck. How are you feeling, has the medication been working with your troubles?

 

Perfectionist

I’m not sure what you mean by “troubles,” but I do know that your little pills aren’t that pleasant, to say the least. Could you tell me why I’m here exactly? How the hell did I even arrive here? Or at least how long I’ve been here?

 

Dr. Pluck

You’re a curious one, aren’t you? 

 

Perfectionist

Don’t fucking condescend me, I just want a straight answer.

 

Dr. Pluck

Very well, Perfectionist. I am more than happy to help you get to the root of your troubles but I can only go so far if you don’t let me in. Your mind is your own, you only hear it’s thoughts, not mine, so I need you to tell me what you hear. Just tell me, I’m not going to hurt you.

 

[Perfectionist scrutinizes Dr. Pluck, not displaying any faith in the man to open up to him. She simply waits for him to respond. He sighs heavily, indicating subtle frustration.]

 

Dr. Pluck

Very well, I see your trust isn’t easily won. I might not fully know what goes on in that little head of yours but I can at least take a stab at it.

 

Perfectionist

[Perfectionist puts both her hands behind her, arching her back to crack it.] By the looks of this tedious conversation, you would have better luck helping me by actually fucking stabbing me.

 

Dr. Pluck

All right, how about an exercise where you’re in charge and I just watch from afar? Hypnosis is my favorite, how about we give it a try?

 

Perfectionist

Seeing as I can’t leave this place, then fine, I’ll do your exercise shithead.

 

Dr. Pluck

Good, but before we start. Whatever happens in your mind, I need you to remember to stay dauntless. Just find the root of your troubles and face it. Shutting down won’t work. I’ll be here next to you the whole time, waiting until you wake up again.

 

[Perfectionist nods her head in agreement. She lies on her back and stares at the ceiling, the sound of his ticking pocket watch lull her to sleep. The stage lights slowly turn off.]

​

Scene 6

The lights turn on to reveal a white void as the stage, the same white empty space seen through the hospital’s windows. Perfectionist and Perfectionism are standing in front of each other in the center of the stage. Perfectionists’ eyes are the only ones closed. There is no ticking noise in this scene. Perfectionist begins to open her eyes and is taken aback by her surroundings and the person in front of her.

 

Perfectionism

[In a bubbly voice] Perfectionist, darling, it’s been a while. I was worried about where you had gone off to. Have you been all right?

 

Perfectionist

Save me the fake-ass show of concern, will you? What are we doing here?

 

Perfectionism

You tell me, you’re the one that brought us here. The sad abyss that is your mind. Definitely needs some dusting.

 

Perfectionist

I spoke to Mediocrity.

 

Perfectionism

Oh...how is the old bastard?

 

Perfectionist

He said a few things to me. Some awfully true things about you. He truly opened my eyes, but I wouldn’t let the man think that he had figured me out. At least, not to his face. [She crosses her arms in front of her, looking down, then up again at Perfectionism.] He said that you were a delusion, a disease. Someone that only brought out the worst in me. And it had me thinking, where had flawlessness ever got me? Flawlessness, you know, that stupid idea that you push me towards, making me hate myself for not being able to achieve it.

 

Perfectionism

Please, all we know is flawlessness, we are incapable of being anything less.

 

Perfectionist

I am tired of flawlessness. I want to be able to live with myself if anything I do that isn't exceeding high standards. I want to be able to go to sleep in peace, not having you keeping me up, worrying that people will judge me. I want to breathe without feeling like I have to constantly measure myself against the people that walk past my damn line of vision.

 

Perfectionism

But if you’re not flawless, successful, excellent, or perfect, then you're nothing. You have no value, you’re worthless. Then you’ll be all alone because no one wants to be with someone worthless.

 

Perfectionist

I am not worthless! I don’t need your or anyone else’s validation to make me feel valued. I am capable of loving myself when I fall short. I wouldn’t want someone like you to love me anyway.

​

[Perfectionist takes a step forward. Straightening her posture, indicating she is not backing down.]

 

[In a low, intimidating tone.] I have enough self-love, self-respect, and self-acceptance to know that I don’t need you. The only failure that I can’t live with, is failing to love myself. You made me think I didn't deserve to love or care for myself. That I needed to punish myself for never being able to please you. But, best believe I have learned something from this godforsaken nightmare. I need to start acknowledging my own self-worth because I know that I’m capable of it. I need to love myself despite every flaw that I have in me, that you find repulsive. Because I know that I deserve to be treated with respect. My small failures and mistakes don’t take that respect away.

 

[Perfectionism glares at Perfectionist. The silence filling the stage for a few seconds was interrupted by the return of the ticking noise.]

 

Perfectionism

Well, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll leave you to your hippie “self-love” journey. But I’ll be back, I won’t leave you so easily.

 

Perfectionist

I wouldn’t expect anything less. I actually am glad at the thought of one day seeing you again. I will truly enjoy seeing you crumble at the sight of a stronger me, a better version that will make you too powerless to manipulate me again.

 

[Perfectionism doesn’t respond. The two stare at each other until the stage lights go off and the stage lights abruptly turn off.

 

Scene 7

The stage lights slowly turn on again, and the ticking noise resumes. The stage is set in a present-day, 21st-century therapist's office. The windows have the view of a street with cars passing quietly. Plants of varying heights fill-up the windowsill. Colors and textures fill the office to provide tranquility and comfort. Perfectionist wakes up on a navy blue velvet couch. The multi-color rug nearly fills up the entirety of the room. A lamp with a soft yellow hue warms the room. A man is sitting in an oversized light green chair next to the chair, closing the pocket watch in his hands. The ticking noise ends.

​

Dr. Pluck

Well, I think we had an incredible breakthrough today. I’ll see you at the same time next week and we can go further into your anxiety. [He holds his arm out to guide her towards the door.] Have a nice day Perfectionist.

 

Perfectionist

Yes. [She slowly gets up from the bed and walks towards the door. A look of confusion is plastered on her face, unsure about her environment.] Thank you, doctor.

 

[Perfectionist exits the stage and the light dims.]

 

The End