dialogue prompts from discontent by beatriz serrano.
i only go to work to lower my air conditioning bill.
work is just a role, and i've mastered it perfectly.
the truth is, i don't know how to do anything.
i don't know how i got here.
my job is to be nice and sell snake oil.
i'm good at selling ideas.
i've mastered the art of working as little as possible.
offices are like hunting: the more you move, the less chance you have of being shot.
i'd give you the rest of my life, if you asked me to.
that's anxiety. you know that, right?
i think everyone deserves a patch of sky.
everything's easy with you.
i wish we could fall in love with each other.
you look pretty, but your face is like death warmed over.
are you sleeping well? are you eating well?
i know you won't disappoint me.
i have complete faith in you.
everyone believes singers are singing about them.
when was the last time you really talked to ____?
you never know what's going on with people.
if you were a fabric, you'd be a _____.
i feel like you're going to psychoanalyze me.
would you like a tangerine?
age is a question of attitude.
whenever i talk to you, i feel like a contestant on a game show.
everything's going well here, you know.
i'm not sure how to talk to ____, or what about.
i really don't have anything to say about my life.
i just want you to be happy.
happiness? what does that even mean?
are you going to come up? soon?
i hate thinking about work outside of work.
i don't know where i'll go, but i won't be here.
i work all the fucking time.
you were my friend. my best friend.
you're unreal. like someone on a magazine cover.
you made me remember who i used to be.
i thought about you a lot. i thought about calling you.
my whole life is a performance.
most of the time, i have no regrets.
the body is just a tool. like a painter's canvas, or a sculptor's block of marble.
we're all condemned to play the role we've been assigned.
if you won the lottery, would you be going to work the next day?
i'm afraid of everyone forgetting about me.
you get to an age where getting wasted isn't fun, it's an open portal to hell on earth.
the hangover's a problem for future me.
what happened? can i do anything?
maybe that's the secret to happiness: lowering your expectations. settling.
nothing going on around me makes any sense.
i don't think i'm doing okay.
don't worry. i'm going to call for help.
the world smiles on people like you.
do i seem fun? hip? cool?
fake it til you make it. or until people leave you alone.
you can't change the world. you can only try to keep the world from changing you.
you were always a bit odd.
we're a family. a strange family.