"you won't believe me, but i'm not gonna make it."
"make it where? to college?"
"oh, there. or to the end of this week. the end of this day, if we're getting specific."
"why not?"
"well, i guess if i think about it, i'll make it to the end of the day. the end of the week for sure. i mean more that i won't make it to the end of this goddamn street. wait, no, i can see the end of the street. i won't make it to this next step. that's it. just watch."
"it's just one step in front of the other, isn't it?"
"it is, but every step's a trap, if you believe it. look. each time i raise my foot, i feel the black hole to hell open up under my next footstep. it could be anywhere. not the blacktop, maybe, but it'll fit into one of these squares on the sidewalk. and i'll trip and fall in."
"ha! why would you fall in? can't you see them?"
"sure, i can, but maybe i want to fall in. maybe i'd rather not make it to the end of this street, get into that goddamned building. it's peaceful down in that hole, i promise. even if you break your leg falling in, there's air conditioning down there."
"why are you thinking about this anyways?"
"you don't believe me."
she shakes her head in disbelief. or incredulity. or suppressed laughter. unsure.
"i swear it's real. i feel it. when i really fall into one of these hellholes, you probably won't be able to drag me out of it. i'm too heavy, besides."
"i'll try my hardest."
"yeah, well, good fucking luck."
