You’re not articulate, nor clever. You’re not cold or feeling-less or strong in any sense of the word. You’re weak and emotional and petulant. You’re childish and hot-headed and I’m not entirely sure what I ever saw in you, as a friend or significant other. I’ve no longer the patience required for attempting to even feign caring or sympathy when presented with your whining, your spontaneous temper tantrums. I’m so.. bored of you. Bored and tired and done.
It’s rather funny, really. Losing you doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d originally anticipated. It doesn’t hurt much at all.