By the time you read this, I'll be burnt at stake by the Spanish Inquisition.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with the restraining order and everything, I was scared to use the phone again.
I know this might seem like a sudden changeto you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, 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 need need needneed... well; I can't quite remember.
I want to tell you that I think you are my personal Jiminy Cricket, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a good-for-nothing crackwhore,and I am suicidal.You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon,big butts, andsmelling your fingers,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 Friday and then try to kill each other through strangulation (or with knives) just for fun.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever it is that I need to confess my most heinous sins on my deathbed.
I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master),if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychiatrist told me that you were my split personality all along.
Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).