Dear Santa,
By the time you read this, I'll be spreading all your diaries around on file-sharing networks (scanners can be so fun sometimes, yah!).
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but uh, well... now what was it again... (God dammit) Oh, yes, I was going to write to you because... because... ummmhhh... (hang on a minute)... I seem to have lost my memory so I'll just improvise a letter with no true meaning from now on, if you don't mind (which you'll probably do).
I know this might seem like a Wikipedia article
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 — 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 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 going to get coal for Christmas this year, being as naughty as you are, 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 to sabotage ice hockey matches by repeatedly throwing out extra pucks onto the rink, painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, and accusing comatose patients of lazyness,
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 different continents.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I see a couple screaming at each other in public.
I'd really like us to become ultranerds who always writes in leet speech and uses Internet abbreviations such as LOL, ITA, IIRC, YMMV and IMHO in common speech,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, before we ended up in Hell together.
Take care of yourself and never forget that each day of your life may be the last as long as I'm around.
42,
~ Grand Admiral of Switzerland.
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