I can't believe that after more than two years of friendship you would slash my painting, a gift for your stupid ass. I can't believe that your imbecile of a boyfriend would believe that I made an under-painting of "my opinion" of his alleged gayness. You let him call me at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday morning to accuse me of this shit, as IF I would spend the time on it. Then you show up at my apartment, cracked out at 9:30 a.m. with the painting you destroyed, slashed three times with a butcher knife, complete with the PINK CLOUDS circled with red permanent marker, indicating his name and the word "gay" and cocksucking? You REALLY think I CARE ENOUGH? Then, you ask MY friend, "Would you rather me slash my wrists or her painting?" Go fuck yourself, you fucking crack-smoking whore—slash your wrists, not my paintings, and burn in hell.

—Anonymous