My crying as if you'd died, that I've been doing so frequently these days, seems to me to be just and intuitive. My life feels sere without your craziness to listen to each day. Why did I believe you? The simple answer, and the honest one, is love. But love doesn't make me blind. This moment is like a present death to me. I'm ready, I've been ready for months, to have you go. You've rehearsed your leaving before. Now you should be ready, too. Don't take my words as bitterness or hurt. My love's too big for that. Go and live, don't waste your time on me.
And now I'll close, but not in my usual way. No "love you, past the end of time," though love it is, and past the end of time is true. Don't use me as a fill-in love when other loves are far away. My love for you means more than that to me.
Best wishes always,