Dear John letter

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Thursday, November 27, 2014

Dear pointless entity,

By the time you read this, I'll be singing show tunes in the shower while members of the New York Yankees take turns exfoliating my buttocks with a loofah sponge. 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 big surprise 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 — mostly. I just need a bit of a laugh.

I want to tell you that I think you're ...alive and breathing, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're wanted in nineteen states, and I'm scared of donuts. You like smoking banana peels, dating circus midgets, and watching animal porn, 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 on different continents. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever my girlfriends and I are trading stories on our worst sexual experiences.

I'd really like us to become "permanently estranged", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least before we met.

Take care of yourself and never forget your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.

~ Sheila (my street name).

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