My love, it is time for me to say farewell. The blindness of early romance hid from me your flaws. When others began to voice their doubts, wondered about your tardiness and undependability, I defended you. You were young and still searching but had that spark of future promise that only youth holds. Given time, I knew, you would achieve that promise.
Those early days were fun, weren't they, before the slamming doors began to annoy me, before the jerking starts and stops, before the shrill scream of your voice began to slow the progress of our affair. I gladly gave you daily tokens of my affection as if, in the intense accounting of new relationships, I needed to reward you for your sleek style and avant-garde outlook.
But time inevitably moves affection to a gentler pace. You moved off, first following one line of activity and then another. You continued to arrive late at our rendevous. There were others waiting, you said. You gave me no clear signs as to the direction you were taking, and I became confused.
You needed more money, you said. I continued to give, first in hope, later in pity. You began to break down under pressure more frequently, at times with no controls on your actions. You began to miss our appointments completely, saying that you didn't have the power to get moving some mornings.
For a time, I accommodated you, but now I will give no more.
Spring is here and I plan to walk and ride my bicycle in the sunshine and rise like Persephone from the regions below where you have led me. I leave to find a simpler way.
Can this simple means of moving through life satisfy me, take me where I need to go? Will this idyllic existence be able to withstand the summer's heat and rain, survive through the harsh winter? I don't know, but I mean to try. I will do anything to escape you now. It will be inconvenient. Perhaps it won't work. I know that there will be times when I cannot make it alone. But I know that there are others who feel as I do, with whom I can join to make this journey I must take much easier.
We will, no doubt, cross paths again, perhaps share some time together. With time, with change, we might even return to some level of friendship, but it depends upon you. You must work this erratic nature out of your system. You must adjust to a more simple and austere fare. In short, dear Metro, you must become more appealing, prove your worth, for there are fewer fools like me around now and fewer ways to fool them as the years steal your defense of youthful inexperience.
No, don't bother, I'll find my own way out.