By the time you read this, I'll be ill in Swine Flu.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I finally got around to reading your "poems" this morning, and I figure that this is better than a bullet in the head.
I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universeto you, seeing as we made all those plans to terrorize the elderly couple that lives down the road, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated.I just need a bit of a laugh.
I want to tell you that I think you are strangely charismatic, considering your freakishly odd appearance, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic,and I am allergic to air.You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn,dating circus midgets, andnibbling off wires to public computers at libraries and Internet cafés,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 people without AIDS.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I desperately try another time traveling session to prevent the sad chain of events that led me to meet you in the first place.
I'd really like us to become people that ignore each other in public,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, my left hand and I.
Take care of yourself and never forget that your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.