I just can't do it anymore, Zaphod. Your antics kept me laughing for days at a time, but your jokes just told me what your soul was really saying: I'm lonely.
The calls at 3am, the insistent doubts of how you looked in these pants or that kilt, the little games to prove my fidelity - I'm through with all of it.
I let you play my heart, all to fill the hole in yours. You never cared who I was - I was just another body to keep you warm and hold back the self-doubt, the gnawing insecurity and reoccurring nightmares.
You lied too many times to let me forgive you, even though I tried. I can't give you a chance to grow and redeem yourself; you already showed me you don't want to.
Next time you see me dancing, it won't be with you.