By the time you read this, I'll be in midtown London on a massive shopping spree with your credit card that I kind of "borrowed" earlier today (the pincode is 8391, isn't it?).I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.
I know this might seem like a very large malignant tumour on your L4 vertebrae (and to be truthful, it is)to you, seeing as we made all those plans to assassinate the Pope, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations.I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.
I want to tell you that I think you are like a senile old parrot, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are not even real, just a Sim character I created last week in The Sims 3,and I am a mother of two-and-a-half.You like fondling barnyard animals,scratching yourself publicly, andaccusing comatose patients of lazyness,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 but only so I'll get another shot at killing your for real.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I throw up.
I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master),if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the police accidently found the body hidden in your closet.
Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm much happier without you.
~ Hannibal Lecter.
P.S. I have two tickets to Indian ghost reservation and was wondering if you'd like to come with me? You know, just in memory of the good 'ol days? D.S.