I guess.

I like how I get brushed aside. For MahJong. You know. It's like all those things that we ever spoke before. About being special and you making it up to me. Like you know, those things actually mattered.

I like the way how I'm so easily forgotten. And the things you promise me too. Like poof. Out of sight and hence out of mind.

I like how you tell me you're selfish and vow to change and the next thing decide that I'm being all so pleasant and stuff. Of course, it's so easy to make it up to me. So easy to take advantage of my good nature and the fact that I forgive you so easily. Each and every time.

So I suppose you'll like the way how I'll tell you this. That it's over and there's no need to plan happily ever after. There won't be any. Not between you and me.

Single, there's no expectation from anyone. No need to make anyone happy or feel special or more loved. You ask why I don't seem to love you more. I sit here, deciding it's really pointless to try and make things work, to ask myself if it's worth it to cry. I guess I'm finally done. I don't want to have anything to do with you. Not anymore.