Kind, clear, final.

Sam, I've been trying to write this for a week, and the longer I wait the more I'm doing it for me instead of for us. So: I'm ending this. This isn't a decision I'm making lightly. The three years with you have been real. You showed me parts of myself I didn't know I had. I will always be grateful for that. But I have known for months that we don't want the same kind of life, and I haven't been honest about it. Staying any longer is doing both of us a quiet kind of harm. I'm not going to list reasons. We both know them. I'd rather end this with respect than with a list. Please take whatever you need from the apartment by the end of the month. I'll be at my sister's. I will not check in to see how you're doing right away — I don't think that's fair to either of us — but I do hope, sincerely, that you're okay. Thank you for the years. Take care of yourself. — Alex