The thing is I just don't know where we're going. I' feel like we've been through so much together. We talked Branson into wearing better clothes; we helped Mary be nice to Edith. And Cora, think of all we've done for her relationship with her mother-in-law. We've made a difference together, we really have.
And I've loved you, I mean it. When I think of the way that I waited for you to come, all those lovely meals, all the beds we've made and made and remade together.
But, honestly, J/DA, I just can't take the ups and downs anymore. All this emotional tumult has really got me asking some hard questions, Where will be in 10 years? How will I bear your intensity? Why can't Miss O'Brien just lighten up--shouldn't smoking help her more than it does?
But all of these ups and downs are just making me, well, anxious. I never know who you'll be when I see you next.
I'm sorry. I just can't take the pain anymore.
I'll miss you. I really will. I will miss all those forks and knives and spoons and glasses on the table, and our long walks stalking stag in the heather, the sight of Mr. Carson talking into the earpiece of the telephone. I'll miss all of it, I really will.
But it's over.
Goodbye. Think of me every time you are falsely imprisoned or meet someone who can't comb their own hair.