By the time you read this, I'll be a mother.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with all the botox in your face, I might as well be fraternizing with mannequins instead. At least those don't have every STD known to man...
I know this might seem like an unexpected departureto you, seeing as we made all those plans to slowly fade into non-existence, 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 space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.
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 the demi-duchess of Kumswalla,and I am deaf, dumb and blind.You like having sex in dumpsters,juggling chainsaws, andrecommending suicide as the only viable cure for hiccups,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 each other as soon as possible, since the Internet connection on my computer isn't working, and I figured I could browse through your computer during our "date".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, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination.
Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).