It's not you, it's me.
I could be with you and you wouldn't think twice about it. We could have so much fun together, deary. Drinking coffee while we play minature golf beneath the surreal, plastic giraffes...driving around aimlessly while smash mouth plays on the radio...going to the mall to see if any quirky, new stores have opened up...you, looking at me lovingly. Yes, this and more could be mine.
But it won't. I won't allow it to be.
That's right--I can't bring myself to let you into my life. I see no purpose for you. It feels so wrong of me to do this to you, to deny you myself, but it's just something I could never live with.
You're beautiful...I'm sure at least 12 people have already told you that as you walked out of your house and got in your car. You're funny...the goldfish you keep in your toilets know that. You're sweet...when you help old women cross the street and resist that oh-so-strong urge to toss them into oncoming traffic and run away to the local gas station while laughing like your hero Darth Vader. So...why not?
I'm such a jerk. I don't want to do this to you. But you're not giving me the feeling that you're what it's all about. It's so trivial, it's so mean...
And that's why I could never look at you without such an intense feeling of guilt. That's why I can't stop myself from crying as I write this. That's why I will never allow our relationship to progress to a point where I might actually have to give these evil words a voice.
It's my kindness to be so cruel to you.