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Template:FA/08 December 2006Template:FA/2006Template:FQ/08 December 2006Template:FQ/2006
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Dear voices that I hear sometimes in my head,
By the time you read this, I'll be married. I regret to inform you that there were a number of contestants for my affections, and you were not the winner. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but enough is enough. I've HAD it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane! I know this might seem like an odd twist of fate to you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, 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 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 are the true identity of the Zodiac Killer, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the demi-duchess of Kumswalla, and I am a member of a religion that has repeatedly confirmed that people like that are going to burn in hell. You like playing Worms 3D, pretending to be Captain America, 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 on the Moon. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone asks me to define the word "retarded". I'd really like us to become born-again strangers, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, pretending we're screwing someone else. Take care of yourself and never forget that everything in this letter was a lie.
~ Princess Peach. P.S. You're fired! D.S. |
