Dear John letter
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Friday, October 16, 2026
Dear psychiatrist,
By the time you read this, I'll be transferring the last of our mutual savings to a bank account in Geneva. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but time is money, and according to your most current bank statement you have insufficient funds to purchase additional time credits with me. I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really, to you, seeing as we made all those plans to enter the Guinness Book of World Records by the becoming the first couple ever to watch "The Cure for Insomnia" without falling asleep, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need nails, matches and a voodoo doll of you. I want to tell you that I think you are evil incarnate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a blathering windbag who needs a nice big cup of shut the fuck up, and I am allergic to air. You like caressing lamp accessories, carving CD's into lethal shurikens with which to... kill people, and recommending suicide as the only viable cure for hiccups, 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 and wherever. Just joshing you. You suck. 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, well, no... but no-one else has to know that. Take care of yourself and never forget that you've only got one bullet left, it's going to take more than that to stop me.
~ Name and address withheld. |