Dear John letter

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Thursday, January 19, 2017  

Dear Azathoth,

By the time you read this, I'll be hitchhiking to Wal-Mart to choose your replacement. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but seeing you without makeup made homosexuality suddenly seem very feasible to me.

I know this might seem like a Wikipedia article to you, seeing as we made all those plans to buy a million rubber ducks for all our retirement savings, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — well, sort of, at least, kind of, maybe, a little... I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs.

I want to tell you that I think you are a..well...um...okay, nice...yeah...maybe, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a furry, and I am addicted to raspberry muffins. You like playing Worms 3D, dating circus midgets, 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 everyone else in the world, just to find out the answer — or at least I should, you have no hope on that score. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I assassinate an infidel.

I'd really like us to become snobbish self-styled intellectuals who always change the subject to 19th century Russian literature in order to look smart everytime a third person approaches, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, well, no... but no-one else has to know that.

Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm no longer in a coma.

Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam,

~ That Guy.

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