It's not you, it's me. No, it's you.
There have been times that you were the only one I could rely on, that I knew would be able to reassure me after a hard day.
The endless days we spent, just bathing in each others company. You said you had things to tell me, promised to show me the world and teach me about beauty.
Through you, I have learnt many things. You taught me how to kiss, and told me about the world's pain. We have shared laughs and disasters. You have been a true companion.
But now I think our attachment to each other is mostly brought out of routine. We spend hours in relative silence. You talk to me, but I no longer listen. I stay with you because you are comfortable, familiar, but more and more now I find you irritating. You have nothing new to say to me, or if you do it is drowned out by the same old stories. I turned you on, and you try to turn me on, but I am just not feeling it anymore.
Perhaps I am missing your finer qualities. I know they are there. I know that you are beautiful, intelligent, funny, and wise, and I know that I will crave your presence, even if at first only out of habit. I am sure that we will have trysts in the future. I hope we do, and I hope that they are passionate and fulfilling.
Until then, I am switching you off at the set.