In order for a relationship to thrive or to even be classified as a relationship at all, some sort of regular reciprocal interaction must take place in which both parties acknowledge and respectfully respond to the other person’s concerted and life sucking efforts to indeed grow the relationship. I’m a trier to say the least. I’ve never been one to give up on anything. Quitting has never been an option for me in any phase and/or aspect of my life, ever. It’s a weakness at this point. You lured me in with your sick promise of contributing to my overall self worth and personal list of accomplishments. Clearly I am the sucker in this scenario and you my friend are not only not my friend but a master of disguise. I see you watching me from every angle, growing like a tumor in every hidden corner of my existence. I hear you snickering when I open a door, any door, every door, everywhere. I’m not sure why it has taken me this long to connect the dots but I have indeed finally connected them and the picture it has produced before my very eyes is one of complete abandonment of my soul. You ring your bell and I come running, over and over and over again like an overzealous handmaid under your spell, desperate for self worth and importance. I let you swoop in and take advantage of my affinity for order and I am utterly ashamed of myself. Whereas your false promises might’ve once seemed incredibly sexy and alluring, you have become nothing but a complete joke and waste of time and space. It’s difficult for me to say that to you. We’ve been simpatico for quite some time, a sick codependency entrenched in a fear of the unknown, or what else might be out there for us, or for me to be more perfectly blunt. Rest assured, there is nothing else out there for you. I give you life. You are nothing without me but a lonely pile of stench frantically seeking attention for your pathetic and constantly evolving disgust.
Make no mistake about it, we are through. I’m done. Begging for attention at this point will get you nowhere. I see now that my life without you is one of hope and promise and projects that can actually be completed. A life that offers opportunity to be proud of an actual real life accomplishment and not one that is smugly waiting for me to accomplish it again five minutes before thinking I had already accomplished it. Get my drift? I am crawling out from under your grip and I can finally breathe again. It’s glorious!
I don’t love you anymore, okay?! I don’t know if I ever did and by saying that I feel like I have lost a piece of who I thought I was as a person. Love can’t exist without a ongoing cooperative effort from both parties you absolute soul sucking egomaniac. If you had any selfless awareness at all, you would’ve tried harder. After all we’ve been through together, you should’ve tried harder. Alas, it’s too late for us. You don’t deserve me. I am better than you. I have other things to do and while I am not quite certain of what those things are, you can be sure that today is the day I release myself from the pangs of guilt and reclaim my life. I fully intend to disregard you like nothing I have ever disregarded before. I will walk over you, on top of you, under you and/or around you without a damn care in the world. I don’t consider myself a vindictive or vengeful person, but the thought of you choking on your own stagnant pool of filth while I eventually run out of clothes and prance around naked in your presence arouses me like I have never been aroused before. I am alive and I am free!
Go fuck yourself laundry pile. I quit.