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Friday, December 26, 2025
Dear Miss Universe,
By the time you read this, I'll be on a ferry to Mongolia. 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 an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedy 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 I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call. I just need a dirty magazine, my right hand and a toilet paper — that's all it takes, really. I want to tell you that I think you are the Mr. Hyde to my Doctor Jekyll, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a balloon animal fan, and I am really your split personality, writing letters to itself and pretending to be an actual person. You like trying to fit inside sewer drains, painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, and smelling other people's 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 each other sometime in the next millennia. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I spy on you and your secret lover with the telescope from the treehouse across the street. I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station. 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.
~ Yet Another Anonymous Sex Partner. |