Dear John letter
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Tuesday, July 28, 2015
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 on a pilgrimage to Sears to buy "sporting goods" for my weekend adventure with the male cast members of "My Name Is Earl". I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with your breath, a letter seemed the safest option.
I know this might seem like a sudden change to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. I just need more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say.
I want to tell you that I think you're on my long list of middle-rated and easily forgotten ex's, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're a pedophile, and I'm a schoolgirl. You like having sex in dumpsters, masturbating to gardening shows, and gas tungsten arc welding, 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 again, but in another life — preferably a previous one. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the hypnotism I'm paying for wears off.
I'd really like us to become "acquaintances", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, or so we'll pretend.
Take care of yourself and never forget your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.