My Dear (or should I say my Dearest, but I guess that would not be adequate anymore, although terms of endearment have nothing to do with emotions or lack thereof, in my opinion), you’re asking me what brought me to my nuclear decision (your words, not mine), terminating our relationship. Well, here we go… you started out as a cog in the wheel; like a brick in the wall, you were happy to be like the rest of them. That’s when we first met. I must admit, I liked you being ordinary, not looking much better or worse than all those people enveloping you. Then, after a while, that was no longer enough for you. “I want to step to the front,” you said “I must feel three dimensional!” So you have changed in a way I did not fully comprehend or particularly care for. But you were you, and I’m not the complaining type. In contrast, you were still manifestly unsatisfied: “It’s like I’m in a black and white picture while the others are photographed in vivid colours,” you said, and you were somewhat right. Not spot on, but not just moaning either. I don’t need much to stay happy, so I tagged along. But then came the “I’m not in the focus” period which, frankly, was hard for my stomach. Or, in fact, impossible. You do stick out, and you’re clearly following your own path, no doubt. But as you’re becoming more prominent, the background is turning blurry. And that background includes me too. And blurry I choose not to be. So that’s it. Hence my “nuclear decision” or, in common parlance, dumping you. Ta-ta for now.