i can’t talk right now.
no, really, i can’t.
okay, i guess i can … but i won’t.
do we have to go into that? just trust me — it’s for the best.
because i’m — well, i — have too much going on in my mind right now.
yes, that’s what i said, i — i’m thinking about too much.
oh … you know, the usual stuff. life, the universe, everything.
no, i don’t think you need to know anything more specific than that.
no — look — i already told you i couldn’t talk. you’re only going to make it worse with all these questions.
it? the situation. the conversation. my mood.
it’s rotten, if you hadn’t noticed.
you’re not really helping any.
no, you don’t need to know what’s going on. nothing’s going on — that’s what.
you don’t need to know that. unless you’re going to tell me everything about you.
oh, plenty, believe me.
i already told you i’m not going to tell you, so please stop asking.
no, i’m not fine, but i’m getting considerably less fine the longer this conversation lasts.
i don’t want to talk about it.
because i can’t explain it. you don’t need to know, and it would talk too long to explain, anyway.
the sooner we stop talking the sooner i will be a rational being. i told you i couldn’t talk. i meant it. talking only makes everything worse.
just — everything. the whole general mish-mash. it’s all interrelated.
please, can we stop talking? i can’t do this anymore.
yes, i’m serious.
that won’t help things at all. i vant to be alone.
yes. yes, i’m serious.
i’ve been serious for the past 10 minutes.
finally. thank you.
no, don’t call me; i’ll call you.