Dear John letter

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Thursday, June 18, 2026

Dear voices that I hear sometimes in my head,

By the time you read this, I'll be on a train to Fiji. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I'm not getting any younger, and you're not getting any richer.

I know this might seem like a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to run the 3rd marathon around the world together (tied together, that is), but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. I just need to plot your murder for another week and I'm set to go.

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 scared of sheep, and I am not you. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, filling stuffed animals with ice cream, 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 other species. 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 that kind of insufferable cinemagoers who've read the plot in advance and sits and yell out spoilers throughout the film to the annoyance of everyone else, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination.

Take care of yourself and never forget the hard work of the ten million chained up monkeys with typewriters that wrote this letter.

Respect to the man in the ice cream van,

~ Concerned Citizen.