I don’t love you anymore. You’re perfection embodied, tangible and malleable. You’re beautiful. Any other woman would be proud to be yours, proud to stand next to you. I’m not brave enough to tell you that I don’t love you anymore. I’m not you. It’s not anything you did (or failed to do). It’s not someone (or something) else. It’s me, honestly and truly: Me. I’ve grown up, I’m becoming the woman I’m supposed to be. I can’t thank you enough for the love and support you’ve given me.
But I just don’t love you anymore.
Please forgive me.