Two girls sitting at a table, stage right. Single spot on them, otherwise dark stage. One holds a bottle of what seems to be some sort of alcoholic beverage and sits up straight. The other is very relaxed, leaning back in chair.

Me: It's been so long since we talked.
Myself: Yup. How are you?
Me: I'm fantastic!
Myself: So things are going well. That's good to hear.
Me: Mmhm! And you? Feeling any better?
Myself: (takes a long drink from the bottle)Sometimes. Recovery is slow. Frustrating.
Me: What do you mean?
Myself: A lot of relapses. I keep going back to how I used to be.
Me: Well that's dumb. Maybe just work harder...?
Myself: Maybe.
(long silence. Myself takes a drink from the bottle. Me is very uncomfortable with the silence.)
Myself: (suddenly) I do try, you know. I do. (Waits for me to respond. When I don't, continues.) It's almost funny, how hard I try. Some days I sprint through all the courses, pass all the tests with flying colors. But a lot of the time, I walk.
Me: Why would you do that?
Myself: I like to walk.
Me: But why? You're supposed to run. That's what the courses are for.
Myself: (more surely) I like to walk. If the courses are made just for running, why wouldn't they just use a track? Why put in all the details? Why put them there to be ignored?
Me: I don't know, that's just how it is!
Myself: Yeah, I guess.
Me: Maybe you'd like running more if you weren't so bad at it. You should work on that.
Myself: Maybe.
Me: You could lose some weight while you're at it.
Myself: (offended slightly but mostly surprised) Okay.
Me: And get to work on your skin, it looks terrible.
Myself: (more slowly) Okay. (takes another drink)
Me: You should do some real work, like all your friends do.
Myself: (tuning her out) Sure.
Me: Maybe they'd like you better if you did that.
Myself: Alright.
Me: Yeah. that would be good for you.
Myself: Mmmmhm. (another drink)
Me: Hey, you're hardly even paying attention! You need to get it together girl! Look at your grades! Maybe you're just stupid.
Myself: (paying attention now, firmly) I'm not stupid.
Me: Who are you kidding? Your grades are awful, you're not taking any APs, and you have no talent.
Myself: I'm not stupid. I know things.
Me: Like what?! What are you good at? (glaring expectantly)
Myself: (uncertainly) I play clarinet... and cello. And I'll be in choir-
Me: (interrupting) Yes, I know, you'll be in choir. And drama and band. But GUESS WHAT! You suck at those too. You have no talent. You have nothing. You are nothing.
Myself: (quietly) shut up.
Me: Hahaha you can't even come up with a good comeback. You're a failure and you know it. 
Myself: Shut up.
Me: Oh please. You don't even want to be anything. You can't get anywhere without dropping out halfway through. You just walk and walk and walk and you're supposed to be running! Or didn't you know that.
Myself: I thought we established this earlier. I like to walk. 
Me: Walking is stupid. Like you. 
Myself: I'm not stupid. Shut up.
Me: You're fat and lazy and stupid and you walk everywhere. (leaning across the table into her face) You're supposed to run, Keira. You think you can just walk, or lie in the stupid grass and make stupid daisy chains and keep a stupid garden with stupid roses and live in stupid Prague and have stupid music and stupid happiness. You think you can do these stupid things but you can't. It's doesn't work that way. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO RUN, STUPID.
Myself: ...  

okay.

(Blackout)