By the time you read this, I'll be on the Moon, having much more fun than you.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I'm not getting any younger, and you're not getting any richer.
I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really,to you, seeing as we made all those plans to cannibalize your family, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time.I just need nails, matches and a voodoo doll of you.
I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed feminine side, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a satanist,and I am vastly less intelligent than that.You like groping fresh produce,painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, 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 everyone else in the world, just to find out the answer — or at least I should, you have no hope on that score.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I watch Aphex Twin's music video for Windowlicker and the "hot babe" turns around.
I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, assuming that "good times" is just another way of saying "total suckage".
Take care of yourself and never forget where you leave the keys. Honestly, those things are are a PAIN to find again.
P.S. Remember to drink the nut-flavored tea I poured you today. D.S.