I have failed you again, my dearest Samantha. It would appear that in my latest attempt to adjust the capacitor has lead to unforeseeable consequences. My body has been transfigured with that of a seven-year-old girl. Glitter dragons! Apologizes, the transformation appears to have also affected my mind. I had hoped this was only a temporary condition. Over the course of various experiments, the truth is becoming clear. My mind, my personality, is slowly shifting away from the levels of sanity I have been accustomed to maintaining. I want to play in fields of flowers with butterflies. Fuck, the madness is setting in faster now. Soon, the man you loved will be gone from you forever. It could me a matter of a few hours or maybe minutes before my mind completely devolves into this new terrifying place. With my last minutes of sanity, I've decided to tell you how dearly you fit into my life. Tommy knocked me off the swing, he's such a bully. Cunt. Fuck. Oh dear god, another effect of the transformation. I appear to have developed a slight case of Tourette's Syndrome. I love you, Samantha. I love you more than butterflies ejaculating fire plums of sperm in the eye of candy. Say goodbye to our daughter, stupid ball itching sores. Puss filled baby walrus with a bicycle juggling aborted fetus. I didn't mean that. I am a rational man, a scientist of the highest regard. I must compose. I must fuck the bald spot of Kenny Chesney until flower pedals emerge from his fucking forehead. Why would I do that? It doesn't make any sense. Wait, I can feel myself coming back together. It's like waking up from a dream. God, it was so cold in the madness for a minute. Cock-blocking Miley Cyrus, it's not possible for me not to care. Now we're standing in the rain and nothing is gonna change until you hear. The seven things I hate about you. Piss fur cat diabetes.
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