I’m sorry—I’m breaking up with you.
The past few years have made it clear I just can’t be with you any more. It’s not fair to you for me to be thinking of Pussy when we’re together.
I know you’ve tried your best to role-play her but it just doesn’t work for me. There’s no spark joy in my heart anymore. So, you have to go and I thank you for our time together.
Thrown together from before birth, ours was a complicated relationship. But I think we both knew from a young age we weren’t right for each other.
You were always popping up when you weren’t wanted and you really deserved someone who truly appreciated and wanted you around all the time. Your reputation made my life harder sometimes and let’s just say that some of your decisions were questionable; especially after you’d been drinking in your twenties.
Like all my other relationships that ended on speaking terms, I feel ambivalent. We sure had our ups and downs, didn’t we?
From houses to tents, from forests to fields, from oceans to mountains, and on planes, trains, and automobiles, we explored the world together.
Some of those adventures were exquisite, timeless, unforgettable moments of joy I still treasure. Others I really, really wish I could forget, (and just why oh why do so many of the bad ones include couches or futons, anyway?)
So, goodbye, and know that a little bit of you will live on inside of me.
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