“Okay, I’m going to hang up now. You won’t love me anyway even if I stay on the line.”
“You’re free to do what you want, darling.”
“See? I hate it when you say things like that. Why can’t you at least pretend that you care?”
“It’s four in the morning, Georgia. Get some sleep. We’ll talk again later. You know my number.”
“What if that stupid boy Mitchel answers again?”
“He won’t. We’ve got caller ID. I’ll know for sure when it’s you.”
“Sometimes I wish you were real.”
“Oh, but I am. I’m always here. I’m as real as anyone else in the world.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just an idiot who listens to people for a living. None of this is real.”
“Trust me. I’m real.”
“Fuck you.”
I’m not depressed. I swear. In fact, I’m extremely happy at the moment which makes it kind of easier to write sappy things (for some weird reason).