Click here to sad jam to Bombay Bicycle Club's Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You).
 

Sometimes I can’t imagine how long it took us to realize we were never meant to be together. It’s not like we didn’t know how different we were. 

For example, when I first created the universe, teeming with life and full of endless possibilities against almost insurmountable odds, you excitedly told me you had created the blackhole.

I wrinkled my nose when you showed me. “What exactly is it for, Jennie?” I asked.

You shrugged. “But look, not even light can escape its gravitational pull!” Such a child.

When I invented the butterfly with its kaleidoscopic colour vision, you invented the mantis shrimp with even more photoreceptors, and I had hope for the endless colours the shrimp would possibly be able to see until you decided to gleefully just have it slaughter everything in its path like the One Punch Man of crustaceans. 

Don’t even get me started on the praying mantis. 

“It’s true love!” you proclaimed at the post-coital beheading and I refused to have with you for a week.

When I invented music, you added the provision for death metal. 

I mean, your most chaotic idea was to create humans. The most psychotic was orcas. 

“Let me show you what they can do to shark livers and sailboat rudders,” you said with a g