“It’s not you it’s me”
I am quite messed. Why else would I want to break up with a long haired, dirty teeth, all knowing, tall thin (read emaciated) stud. The obvious reasons- You are loud, obnoxious and interfering. Then the not so obvious ones that incidentally turned up like, how I hate your guts. How my friends hate your guts. How my dog hates your guts.
“I think it’s best for both of us”
Of course I want you to be happy. But I also want myself to be happy. That by the way is ‘M-Y-SELF’ and not ‘MAH-SELF’ as you often quaintly refer to it. The cool black ‘rapper’ man innuendo is so repelling that even Paris Hilton would have a hard time endorsing it.
“I don’t think it’s working out”
Inspite of you being the (self proclaimed) King of Sarcasm, tragically it isn’t. I cringe at your incredibly funny one liners. Everytime you attempt to pass off juvenile statements as humour, parts of me have died, a slow painful death.
“Its not hard to see why”
If you could get over your huge crush on yourself you would see how profoundly annoying and hyper you are. The exact moment when I decided ‘it wasn’t working out’* was when you announced to me (no you don’t talk, you just yell and declare) in your characteristically loud and know-it-all superior tone that you support Manchester United.
I decided Chelsea was cooler. And I don’t even watch football.