Dear John letter

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Thursday, October 19, 2017  

Dear Gordon Freeman,

By the time you read this, I'll be at Community Hospital, being prepared for a sex-change operation. Our time together made me realize some important things about myself. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay.

I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universe to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually.

I want to tell you that I think you are the creep who's making all those nightly phone calls where only heavy breathing is heard, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist, and I am on my own plane of psychological existence. You like bungee jumping from church steeples, talking like Captain Kirk, and you cannot lie, the other brothers can't deny, when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get sprung, 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 on other planets. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever and wherever. Just joshing you. You suck.

I'd really like us to become jaded, cynical and bitter in our own different ways, 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 I'm being entirely serious.

Fuck off,

~ Lara Bingle.

P.S. Give me five million dollars now, or I'll scratch my own eyeballs out. Just kidding, he he he! I bet you fell for that one. D.S.

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