It's not that I've stopped loving you.
It's not even that this is what I want.
It's more that I'm tired of being pulled up to the passenger seat, just to be sidelined.
It's not that I want this.
I really don't want to do this.
But maybe it's time you chased me.
Because I feel less and less like you love me.
I feel more like an object.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry I couldn't just be enough to sweep you off your feet and for things to work.
I'm sorry but I'm not going to keep breaking myself.
I'll be your friend.
I'll still see you.
But my body will be my own.
And my lips will be making rapid retreats from yours until you know what you want.