Dear John letter

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Friday, Farbleum 2, 2024

Dear peson whose name I can't be bothered to remember,

By the time you read this, I'll be dead. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with the restraining order and everything, I was scared to use the phone again.

I know this might seem like a sudden change to you, seeing as we made all those plans to grow old, fat and senile together, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated. I just need more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say.

I want to tell you that I think you're ...more than passable, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're under surveillance, and I'm a Mousketeer. You like stamp collecting, masturbating to gardening shows, and walking 100km a day, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date , yes, let's date again, I've changed my mind. But we can just strongly hate each other and find satisfaction in that. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I want to remember what suffering feels like.

I'd really like us to become "permanently estranged", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We've had some good times, in bed, meanwhile outside, you were pitiful.

Take care of yourself and never forget how much lower your reputation will slip as soon as I publish this on my blog.

~ an indiscriminate voice in your head.

P.S.: I've turned gay, so send me a child adoption form.

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