By the time you read this, I'll be hiding inside a closet much closer too you than you'd feel comfortable with.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but my eyes have yet to fully recover from last week when your wig fell off.
I know this might seem like an unexpected departureto you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, 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 ...good at Scrabble, if slightly obsessed with it, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a card-carrying member of the Hair Club for Men,and I am the creep who have been sending you human ears every Friday for the last eight months.You like traveling to other cities and show up uninvited at total strangers birthday parties,masturbating to gardening shows, 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 for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need a good laugh.
I'd really like us to become theatrical actors in a Romeo & Juliet play, except we'll kill ourselves for real in the end just for the sake of realism,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 the hard work of the ten million chained up monkeys with typewriters that wrote this letter.