Fleabag: Scriptures

by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny. Period pains, sore boobs, child birth, you know. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives. Men don’t. They have to seek it out. They invent all sorts of gods and demons and things so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we do very well on our own. Then they create wars so they can feel things and touch each other, and when there aren’t any wars they play rugby.

Now that’s the only truly shit thing about getting older. People don’t flirt with you anymore. Not for real. Not with danger. I miss walking into a room and not knowing…There’s a sort of energy. A dare. Do not take that for granted. There is nothing more exciting than a room full of people. FLEABAG Except most people are — BELINDA What? FLEABAG Shit. BELINDA Look at me. (beat) Listen. (beat) People are all we’ve got.

Don’t make me an optimist, you will ruin my life!

No, I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning…I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, who to love and how to…tell them. (beat) I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong. (beat) And I know that is why people want people like you in their lives. Because you just tell them how to do it. You just tell them what to do. And what they’ll get out of the end of it. And even though I don’t believe your bullshit and I know that scientifically nothing I do makes any difference in the end anyway, I’m still scared, why am I still scared? (beat) Just fucking tell me what to do, Father.