Dear John letter

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Thursday, June 29, 2017  

Dear "Mr. It was only a dream" (as my psychiatrist insists I refer to you these days) ,

By the time you read this, I'll be devolved into an amorphous amoeba. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I have stolen three nuclear warheads and am planning to commit suicide by detonating them (in midtown New York, just to spice things up).

I know this might seem like a big surprise to you, seeing as we made all those plans to adopt a child from a third world country for media publicity, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — well; not really. I just thought it'd sound good. I just need need need need need... well; I can't quite remember.

I want to tell you that I think you are at least somewhat humanoid looking (which is about the only thing you have in common with mainstream humanity), but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a pedophile, and I am into streaking. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, lassoing people on subways cars, and smelling 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 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 see a couple screaming at each other in public.

I'd really like us to become born-again strangers, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before we ended up in Hell together.

Take care of yourself and never forget that you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.

God save the Queen,

~ (name is not important as we are all so much more than our names).

P.S. You're fired! D.S.

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