I am sorry.
Let me tell you this first because after you hear what I say to you, I doubt you'll be around to let me apologise.
But I need to tell you. And it needs to be now.
I can't do this any longer.
I hate it, this charade that is our relationship, this deluded façade that is my life, the visage I give, the image I show; I want it ripped away and stricken from the records. I want to be obliviated so that I cannot remember, so I can be rid of the pain, so I can be free of the daily torture I put myself through.
Ah, my dear I should have been more precise; I cannot do us.
Don't think of me like some uncaring whore, don't look at me as if I haven't tried. I have tried, dear lord I have endeavoured to the best of my ability to love you. And at one point I did. I think.
See? I am in constant uncertainty. You would tell me you loved me, and it felt awkward that I didn't reply. I can only imagine the smile that plastered your face when I had the courage to say it back to you, when I finally had the audacity to lie to you. Because after that first time, it became easier; my mind told me it was okay to lie to you. But no more. It ends here.
No more will I smile when you tell a joke which isn't funny.
No more shall I put up with you inadequate intelligence, and explain everything I say because you are of such an inferior intellect that you cannot understand.
No more will I quiver in disgust at your touch, and no more will I give you the smile of content. Because I am not content.
No more shall I hold your coarse hands, and feel those circles you draw upon my palm.
No more shall I kiss those rough, cracked and so inexperienced lips.
No more shall I avoid the questions.
You were once told I fancy you. Let me take that notion from your head immediately.
I admit that once I was attracted to your charm, your sensitivity. But never your face. It is ashamedly I admit that I am a snob in this area, and though I have tried I simply cannot bear to think about someone I do not find physically attracted to.
You are not of an affluent background, nor are you gifted in any type of way. You are not good looking, not tall, not dark nor handsome. You are not humorous, and I daresay the only reason I succumbed to your lack of wit was that you made me laugh. But Oh, my dear! I was laughing at you. You say the queerest things and I can only guess what you actually were talking about.
I can see your self esteem is sinking and I hesitate to continue. Not that I love you, not that I care for you, not that I hold any sort of affection for you; I hesitate because I know you are human too.
The only reason I can reckon from my mind is that I entered our relationship because you were safe. And you are completely in love with me. I wonder why you are so enamoured with me, I scorn and I mock and I try to distance myself as far from you as possible, and yet you still follow me like a lost puppy. It is almost sickening. However you were the safe option, the good boy. I fell into the delusion that in time I would learn to love you back, but I never did. That is why I agreed to this. It was expected.
It was awful.
I should never have even contemplated the task of making myself fall in love with you, for it was a complete impossibility. You are the complete opposite of what I want, and need. I need someone tall and dark and handsome, and all of those things. I need someone mysterious, someone with wit and charm. Someone who I can argue with, who challenges me as much I as I do them. Not you, you just succumb to whatever I say, to me you are boring.
You are pompous and say things without thinking, I hate how it's assumed I am as equally portentous as you. I feel shamed by association, but no more.
People talk of sex, it is constantly shoved in our faces wherever we go.
I hate that.
I tell people, you are young and shouldn't even be thinking of that. I can't help but think my thinking is skewed. For I feel repulsed at the thought of us, together. Why do you think I have never discussed it with you?
I can't be with someone who is as complaisant and unsociable as you. I need adventure and excitement, someone with class and style. I need someone witty, sophisticated and elegant, someone who exhumes danger.
And I know that such a man does not exist. But I'd much rather be free to look.
I am selfish, and arrogant, and egoistical. I am one of the slyest, conceited women you will ever meet, but for all my arrogance and all my faults I cannot be happy with second best, and so I speak the truth.
In fairness there are many reasons why I am not good enough for you, I am plain of average height, pretty but not beautiful but my ferociousness and passion for life only leads me to feel restrained by your very presence.
If it is any consolation I have been faithful while we have been together. I was tempted to stray, oh several times I was ready to shoot from that door and perfectly happy to be in the arms of another man. I didn't though, and I am glad in a way because I proved to myself that I can be determined.
I did want our relationship to work, and I have struggled through temptation to get to this point. I have gone against my instincts to flee and have tried to make this work for you, for us. But God damnit it won't!
We just aren't compatible, and we never will be. Not in a million years.
I'm just tired, and fed up. I want and need more than you can give me, and I have waited for so long for you to do something against me so I can blame you, but you haven't! And so my cowardly exit has come.
You are Ronald Weasley, and we can never be together.
I need someone dark and cunning, even someone like Draco Malfoy.
So we come to the end.
And I am sorry.