How long has it been? Twenty-two years? Twenty-three? I fell madly in love with you then. Wanted to be near you as often as possible. First just on the odd weekend. Then every week. Then almost every day.
How great they were, those first years. I was young. You, quite a bit older. But we clicked. Boy, did we click. The stories we could tell. The glorious adventures we went on. The trips to Spain, to Greece, to Tokyo. I still think of them as the best years of my life. Nothing could go wrong. We’d remain in that bubble of joy forever.
Sure, we’ve had some rough patches through the years. There were times I wanted to throw in the towel. But I didn’t. And you kept welcoming me back with open arms. We came through those bleak times. Together. Stronger.
So, what makes this different? What makes this so hard? It’s quite simple really. I’ve fallen out of love with you. Everything I adored about you, has evaporated, one quality at a time, until now all that is left, is a mere ghost of our affair.
Don’t think I have taken this decision lightly. I’ve had countless of sleepless nights over it. I have told myself that things will turn around for us, like they always have. But I no longer can believe in that lie.
That is why I am leaving you. I’m not trading you for another, don’t worry. I never could. But for us, this is the end of the line. You have broken my heart too often of late. It has destroyed me.
I leave without grudges. I wish you all the best. I hope, someday, you will win the league again. Or a European Cup. But I won’t be chanting from your terraces.
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