You don't believe it's real. It's not the same as real life, real friendship, real struggle. It's all made up. It's a fate worse than death.
"Well, that's one way to look at it I suppose. How could you ever know if it's real? If it's really you after all that? Of course, you could say the same thing about thing here. What we're doing. How do we ever know we're real? That everything we're seeing now isn't just made up? You can't I guess. You can never know. Uncertainty is a bitch huh?"
The two of you continue down the road, chatting idly along the way. Eventually you pass by an old wooden grave marker by the side of the road.