Why are you trying to reach me?
You aren’t going to gain anything from it.
We are both going to be in these walls, alone, at the end of the day.
You don’t even know me. I don’t want to talk to you. You could be trying to hurt me, for all I know. Maybe I will let you reach out to me and hold your hand and you will use it to pull me in closer and stab me with the brilliant knife that you have kept hidden in your sleeve.
Better not to risk it.
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Why are you still here?
I told you to go.
Why are you asking me questions?
I’m not going to answer them.
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Of course I’m lonely.
Aren’t you?
There’s no one else here.
But loneliness is simply a matter of weakness. It is better on my own. I trust myself completely. I know exactly what I am going to do before I do it.
I don’t trust you.
You could be lying to me. You could be trying to hurt me.
I’m better off just relying on myself.
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You won’t go?
I am doing my best to push you away.
You must be really bored. There must be nothing better for you to spend your time with.
There are many other things you could be doing.
Wouldn’t you rather be doing one of them?
You don’t want to stay with me. I’m not very fun, anyway.
A bit of a downer, if you will.
I mean it.
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I don’t really want you to go.