So it's over. Does that mean you have to act like you're having a heart attack every time I'm within 10 feet of you? It's not like I seriously fucked you over, so why do you have to slink away every time I'm in the room like I am a crime? I was in love with you, so what? You were the one who couldn't make up your mind and walked, not me. I'll get over it and you will go on living your stupid pathetic meaningless life. I know I'm a screamer but you are a pathological LIAR so you are the one whose life lacks meaning. You lie to everybody even when it is in your best interest to tell the truth, and guess what, I figured that one out years before I fucked you. I'll write a book about it that gets published while you get old and die. At least you were good for something because you'll make one hell of a main character. But did you have to go through and delete all the references you ever made to me in your online journal? That hurt.

—Anonymous