I don’t want you. I don’t want your low-effort. I don’t want your excuses. I don’t want you sub-par sex and I don’t want to hear your excuses about why it isn’t better. I’m tired of pretending that your small problems are bigger than they are. They simply aren’t that compelling. I’m not interested in acting like your position is worth taking into account because it’s mostly nonsense. You are the architect of your misery and there is nothing I can do to help you. I don’t want to anyway.

I don’t want to hear about it when you understand that I’m right and you are sorry that I’m gone. You don’t get another chance because you’ve had them all. Just get your shit together so you can present it to someone else. I’m done with it.