To help yourself, you must be yourself. Be the best that you can

Host: The scene opens on a dim train platform just before dawn. A thin mist clings to the air, curling around the steel beams and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. The city beyond the tracks still sleeps — a mosaic of gray silhouettes and tired neon.

The camera pans to a worn wooden bench. Jack sits there, shoulders hunched beneath his dark coat, a paper cup of coffee steaming faintly in his hands. His gray eyes are distant — fixed on nothing and everything. The kind of stare you wear when you’ve just failed at something that mattered.

Across from him, Jeeny stands, small but unshaken, her long black hair brushing against the collar of her coat. She holds a folded note — creased from having been opened too many times — and reads it aloud, her voice steady, warm, almost musical against the chill of the platform:

“To help yourself, you must be yourself. Be the best that you can be. When you make a mistake, learn from it, pick yourself up and move on.” — Dave Pelzer

Host: The words drift through the mist, soft and solid all at once. The sound of an approaching train echoes faintly — a low, trembling growl of motion and time.

Jack: [quietly, without looking at her] “Easier said than done. Everyone loves to preach about ‘being yourself,’ but what if you don’t like the person you are?”

Jeeny: [sits beside him, voice calm] “Then maybe that’s the part you’re supposed to help, not hide. Pelzer knew that. He lived through pain most people can’t even name — and he still chose to move forward, not by becoming someone else, but by forgiving who he was.”

Jack: [grimly] “Forgiveness doesn’t fix the damage.”

Jeeny: [softly] “No. But it makes living with it possible.”

Host: The train’s horn sounds in the distance — long, low, and almost mournful. The lights above flicker as the world begins to stir.

Jack: [stares into his coffee] “You ever notice how people talk about self-help like it’s a staircase? Like all you have to do is keep climbing, one inspirational quote at a time. But sometimes you just… stop. You fall. You can’t even find the next step.”

Jeeny: [turns toward him, voice strong but gentle] “That’s the part Pelzer was talking about — the moment after you fall. The part where you pick yourself up. You don’t climb because you’re sure you can reach the top. You climb because giving up means staying broken.”

Jack: [quietly] “And being broken feels safe.”

Jeeny: [nods] “Safe, yes. But small. You were never meant to stay in the wreckage.”

Host: The camera lingers on Jack’s hands — one trembling slightly as he grips the paper cup, steam rising in fragile spirals. The sound of the city grows — footsteps, car doors, voices — life awakening around him while he sits in stillness.

Jack: [bitter smile] “You think being yourself is enough to fix anything? That authenticity somehow saves you?”

Jeeny: [leans closer] “No. It doesn’t save you. But it’s the only place you can start. If you build your healing on lies, it won’t hold. You can’t rebuild from the top down. You have to start with the foundation — you.”

Jack: [half-smiling now] “You make it sound simple.”

Jeeny: [shrugs lightly] “Simple doesn’t mean easy.”

Host: A gust of cold wind sweeps through the station, scattering a few crumpled tickets and coffee lids. Jeeny’s hair shifts in the breeze; Jack looks up for the first time, the pale dawn catching in his eyes.

Jack: [softly] “When I was younger, I used to think mistakes were proof I wasn’t enough. Every wrong move felt permanent — like I was writing my failure in stone.”

Jeeny: [listening intently] “And now?”

Jack: [after a pause] “Now I think maybe the mistakes are the only parts that actually teach us anything. You can’t learn from perfection — it’s too clean. Too quiet.”

Jeeny: [smiling faintly] “Exactly. The cracks are where the light comes in. That’s what Pelzer was saying. Failure doesn’t mean you’re finished — it means you’re formable.”

Jack: [grins slightly] “Formable. That’s not even a word.”

Jeeny: [teasingly] “It is now. See? Growth already.”

Host: The train pulls in, the air trembling as its brakes hiss and the doors slide open. A few commuters step out, others shuffle in. The world keeps moving, even when hearts hesitate.

Jack: [watching the passengers] “Do you ever get tired of trying? Of pretending you’re okay just because everyone else keeps going?”

Jeeny: [softly, but with quiet conviction] “I don’t pretend. I just keep walking. There’s a difference. Trying isn’t pretending — it’s proof that the fire’s still there, even if it’s small.”

Jack: [nods slowly] “So you think the secret is… what? Keep walking, no matter what?”

Jeeny: “Keep walking, yes. But not blindly. Learn. Change. Be yourself again — the real one. The one who believes in possibility, not perfection.”

Host: The camera follows the train’s reflection on the platform — streaks of silver and light sliding past, vanishing into the horizon. The mist begins to lift, revealing a pale blue morning sky.

Jack: [looking up] “You know, I used to think being myself meant refusing to change. Standing my ground, no matter what. But maybe being yourself means evolving — just without losing the heart that started it all.”

Jeeny: [smiling] “That’s it, Jack. You help yourself by remembering who you are — and forgiving who you were.”

Host: The sun breaks through the fog at last, painting the station in warm light. Jeeny rises, slings her bag over her shoulder, and turns toward the open train door. Jack hesitates, watching her go.

Jeeny: [pausing in the doorway] “You don’t have to have it all figured out today. Just get on the train.”

Jack: [smiling faintly] “And if I fall again?”

Jeeny: [softly] “Then you get back up. Again.”

Host: The train doors close behind her. Jack stands alone on the platform, the wind brushing past him. Then — after a moment — he exhales, crumples the empty cup, and steps toward the rising light.

The camera lingers as the train disappears into the distance. The platform glows gold.

Host: Dave Pelzer’s words echo softly in the space he’s left behind:

“To help yourself, you must be yourself.
Be the best that you can be.
When you make a mistake, learn from it,
pick yourself up and move on.”

Host: The screen fades, but the rhythm of those words remains — steady, alive, like footsteps on the long road of becoming.

Because in the end, healing isn’t perfection.
It’s motion.
It’s standing up, over and over again,
until one day — you realize you’re walking forward.

Fade to black.