Dear John letter

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Tuesday, November 12, 2019  

Dear me, I do believe I've forgotten your name,

By the time you read this, I'll be the first triple MILLION winner EVER in the NATIONAL LOTTERY! Yay. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine.

I know this might seem like a big surprise to you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need to put this facade you've been living to an end, before I run out of script material. Ghostwriters cost a fortune.

I want to tell you that I think you are a Cylon imposter, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the disembodied head of Patrick Duffy, and I am enigmatic. You like bathing in gasoline, talking like Captain Kirk, and smelling other people's fingers, 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 people without AIDS. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I'm pissed off.

I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you were my split personality all along.

Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you masturbate, Friedrich Nietzsche kills God.

Greetings,

~ That Guy.

P.S. It was me who assassinated J.F. Kennedy. D.S.