By the time you read this, I'll be spreading all your diaries around on file-sharing networks (scanners can be so fun sometimes, yah!).I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I finally got around to reading your "poems" this morning, and I figure that this is better than a bullet in the head.
I know this might seem like a disappointing turn for the worseto you, seeing as we made all those plans to sink the British isles, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high.I just need a bit of a laugh.
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 a pederast,and I am fucked up for life after 15 years of heavy heroin abuse.You like to sabotage ice hockey matches by repeatedly throwing out extra pucks onto the rink,painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, andwatching DaxFlame on YouTube while singing "Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds",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 when Hell freezes over.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I sharpen my hunting knife out in the garage.
I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, way back in the 60's during Woodstock.
Take care of yourself and never forget that I have the Infinity Gauntlet and is thus the supreme being of this universe.
~ (Jenny is being disconnected, so don't try calling).
P.S. It was me who assassinated J.F. Kennedy. D.S.