Breaking Up – a 50-word … thing Dear You, I’m sorry we broke up. The sad fact is, you are who you must be and I am who I have to be, and it seems there is no compromise. A serial killer and a saint are just not suited for marriage. I should have known. Love, Me Advertisements Share this:Share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Google+ (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)MoreClick to email (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related
I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid once you’re a saint, you’ll always be a saint. (Haven’t heard that song in soooo many years! hehehe 😀 )
But I can change! 😥
I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid once you’re a saint, you’ll always be a saint.
(Haven’t heard that song in soooo many years! hehehe 😀 )
Um, is it impolite to ask if you are the saint? 😀
Hehe. No, to both questions. 😉 😀
you know, opposites attract. and maybe the saint is what the serial killer needs to seek redemption.