I've so had it with Ernest.
It's not just that he's making me write letters to myself, since he doesn't even care enough to write them himself, and it's also not that I never get to see him, it's just...
It's just everything.
So I'm going to have to break it off. I just can't do it any more. Not like this. I've got better things to be doing with my life, things that haven't to do with someone called Ernest.
Besides, it's hardly a serious relationship if it isn't broken at least once, right?
So there, Ernest. You'd better step up your game.
Right. I'm off to the corner shop for a tub of ice cream and a bottle of pinot grigio.
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