Boy:
yes, I am. I love you. And I know that you feel the same way. something inside of you, something you tried to kill a long time ago, is telling you that you actually feel something. It's weak, but once you acknowledge it, it can grow. you can love me.
Girl:
Look, i'm flattered that you think that you like me, but i'd rather not talk about this.
Boy:
you can't keep running away from your life. you can't pretend that all the unpleasant things don't exist. you can't just filter out everything you don't agree with. People die, people fight, they talk about you behind your back, they hate, and they fall in love, whether or not you choose to believe it. Life goes on, whether or not you choose to participate.
Girl:
Then why are you so adamant that i participate? what is so fucking wrong with being happy? If i got a job, if i paid bills, made friends, let people in, i would be miserable, just like you. I would come home, tear off my uniform and watch late night infomercials while silently wishing that my life were different. I would hate that life and everyone it, i would resent those friends and myself, and you, for making me live that futile and irritating existence.
Boy:
A life that isn't lived is wasted.
Girl:
Isn't a perfect life better, even if it's only imaginary? If you push past that one fact, into a world without any others, isn't it better?
Boy:
You are truly pathetic. I can't beleive i wasted any time on you. Have a nice fucking life.
