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 it's not like the world isn't going to end on December 21, 2012 anyway.
I know this might seem like a cowardly way of telling you that I ran over your mom with fatal outcome just 10 minutes agoto you, seeing as we made all those plans to trade all our remaining STDs even-steven, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call.I just need more cowbell.
I want to tell you that I think you are like a senile old parrot, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic,and I am a Mousketeer.You like bathing in gasoline,stabbing yourself with carrots, andsmelling your 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 other species.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I walk past the ape cages at the zoo.
I'd really like us to become acquaintances,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination.
Take care of yourself and never forget that time when I showed everyone a picture of your penis. That was funny.