The Diary of a Manic Depressant: An Autobiography [Coming soon to a theater near you!]

Preface [Lily]:
"I see myself not as a lost girl suffering from an uncontrollable disabling illness, but as a director of the most vivid and emotionally alive movie that is my life. Through these prescription glasses [brand name: Mania] my life is defined clearly in front of me, playing on an oversized movie screen."



Script: The Diary of a Manic Depressant

Take one:
She is laying pensive on her bed. Propped up sideways, her fluttering eyelashes against the pillow sound like thunder. Nighttime holds all her delicate secrets. Unable to sleep, she lays there and blinks [blink rumble blink flash rain]. The dreams will come soon. But the nightmares are the ones she remembers. The nightmares are the ones. Her eyelids clamp tightly shut in an effort to hold them in.

Take two:
Her shoelaces lay untied before her, hands shaking. Her head is so cluttered, activities requiring motor control of her limbs become difficult. Tying shoelaces require the utmost concentration. During shaving, it’s nearly impossible to hold the razor still. Little nicks and cuts accumulate up and down her soft, slim legs, due to trembling hands. Handwriting places itself askew [jittery fingers hold the pencil for no more than 5 seconds before it learns how to fly]. A normal day is hard to have when under It’s control. How she wishes to be normal.

Take three:
She’s on the road. She really shouldn’t be. Driving is difficult and hazardous when dealing with It. The oncoming vehicles provoke monstrous reactions. A cluttered mind makes it difficult to keep a mental picture of the traffic around her [where’s the car there’s a car where’s the car??]. Her vision and thoughts don’t connect as well; she sees the cars, but they haven’t registered as real yet. She gets lost and confused, and streets she’s traveled down all her life become unfamiliar territory. A crash will soon erase this shattered memory for good.

Take four:
She’s kneeling on the kitchen floor, trying to recall how to make rice. The simplest of things, like how long it needs to boil, slips from her mind, and an unnecessary fact is [be careful when you play the duplets, be careful of the duplets, be careful they will eat you alive, man eating tiger there’s a tiger he’ll eat you alive, duplets be careful] shoved in it’s place. Tears fall from her tender cheeks as her stomach growls [tiger growls when he‘s angry] in hunger. These thoughts won’t stop flying. “I just want to make rice, let me make rice.”
Her whispers fall upon nonexistent ears.

Take five:
She is in her doctor’s office. She writes to pass the time. [your daughter’s mania isn’t a bad thing ma‘am.] Her poetry exists when she’s manic. Language becomes her toy to play with, rhymes and prose are violently tossed out within seconds of pen’s first connection with mistress paper. [mania has also been associated with increased creativity and artistic talent. if it weren’t for her mania, Lily would not be a successful musician or writer.] Her pen flies faster, mistress paper’s wounds develop increasingly fast. Words brimming from deep inside bubble to the surface and spew forth [i would recommend putting her on this medication]. Words beg not to reach her lips. Her pen soars. [no music for lilyflower] Breathing remains stable on the outside, but on the inside she’s dying from lack of oxygen. A need for increased breathing rises. [my sweet sweet music] Her pen screams for mercy. The paper is ink black now. Time to return home, Mother calls. Your pills await you.

Closing Scene:
A torn script flutters amongst the discarded film. Prescription glasses lay shattered on the floor. Next to the fragmented glasses lay an empty pill bottle and a wilting Lilyflower. The deceased director screams [CUT].