#Script: New Chapter |

INT. EVE’S NEW BEDROOM IN HIGH-RISE APARTMENT – NIGHT

EVE sitting in-front of her computer desktop. She smokes a joint and reconnects with herself. 

A cup of hot green tea. A new “Secret-Box”. The bare minimum room yet uniquely hers.

EVE watches herself on PhotoBooth and types down in her journal what her 10-minutes ago self was doing in an obvious ritual to focus and align with reality. She hadn’t had a J since she moved to the city. World post-Virus.

Journal:

“There is nothing easier than to fall in love with yourself, and without it – there is nothing harder than remembering how to do it and who you are.
Watching myself, trying to time travel into the focused moment, I feel a demon repulsing me and bringing me down with the sickness. It used to be easy when I was 20. It almost feels like the reason why I can’t focus without a #solarflare is post-traumatic spiritual disorder, for the day I stopped trusting fate.

“A moment of truth to spend with myself. But the demon makes me tired. He says what’s the point anyway. You have been let down continuously. Lay down and sleep.

“A solar flare would do. A higher-self intervention divine. I am not ready to take a psychological dive here alone. I am alone. Nothing feels really. I sleep in reality here. I can’t find my soulmate. But at the very least I am awake, I am aware, and I am not in a virused host*!. 

But nothing really has meaning.”

EVE looks at a picture she took of herself with the reflection in the mirror 3 minutes ago, smirks with a humph.

“All this meticulous journaling is my only produce otherwise I am nothing. All this meticulous recording and logging is a prerogative. All of it, is the only thing I can actually do to focus with reality.”

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