It’s fine.

Alright. I’m over everything. It’s fine. It’s finished. It’s buried in the laundry-list of reasons that make me neurotic and jaded and hilarious. Because it’s funny, isn’t it? Let’s end things, sure, and I will continue to make jokes the whole time. I will brush my teeth and go to work. And maybe you’ll miss me, and maybe you won’t. Add that to the list before you go.