Taylor- to be frank, at this point it would be a relief to get away from you. This little relationship of ours is becoming an anchor to me. It’s consuming my time and occupying my thoughts that perhaps could be better served by being directed at other things.
There’s no reason at this point for me to not just go out there and conquer this world, or at least create a nice, cushy life for myself, somehow. I don’t need you like I used to, and I think that this should be obvious to us both.
Look- I’ll level with you. I don’t know if it’s the ill-fitting clothes, or the secrecy, or what, but you look pregnant in those pictures of you on Mother’s Day. Are you? If so, great! Congrats! I wish nothing but the best for you. I would never hold someone else’s life decisions against them; and certainly I wouldn’t when I’ve never even met them in person.
But, still. Do you want a relationship with me? Then tell me what you’re doing!
You know, I’m not the only person who suspects the pregnancy thing, either. Just read online a bit.
And you know what else, Taylor? I have gotten precious little out of this relationship with you other than realizing the selfish dreams of that tyrannical idiot in the White House. I have given you much, and received in return for my efforts precious little from you and everyone else involved. In fact, you could make a strong case that my life would have been much better off had I never seen you in that concert, 6 years ago. And you know what? Maybe everyone else’s would have been better off, too.
Come on, Tay. Please. Just give me a reason to leave.
Just do it!