Dear voices that I hear sometimes in my head,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Iraq, serving in whatever ways I’m needed most. I fear that the military is the only way to make our relationship last, and seeing as you're a pacifist, I decided to join.
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 kick in the nuts
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill your parents and claim the life insurance money, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — really. No, really. Those are teardrops on the letter, and not spittle from laughter. I just need more length from you than I'm getting, and let's face it — you're shrinking with age.
I want to tell you that I think you are strangely charismatic, considering your freakishly odd appearance, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are nothing,
and I am angry.
You like trying to fit inside sewer drains, gay midgets, and igniting your own fart,
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 assassinate an infidel.
I'd really like us to become friends, but I think that won't happen. I rather not speak to you again,
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 to double-bag "Uncle Willy" from now on.
Farewell For Ever,
~ Anonymous.
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