I loved you and trusted you—and you fucked me over in just about the worst way a woman can fuck a man over. You are rude, psychotic, and selfish. Beneath your sweet smile and your innocent demeanor lies the heart of a monster.

You are such a miserable whore. Not simply a whore in the metaphorical sense, but rather the literal "sex services for cash" sense. To anyone who wants to fuck people for money, I say more power to them. But in a supposedly committed, live-in relationship, doing it behind the other person's back? Beyond wrong. So wrong that "wrong" is no longer even the appropriate word. More along the lines of "evil." Blaming me when I caught you at it was a classy touch also.

And by the way, your poetry and writing is frighteningly incoherent and senseless shit. When I read it, it was like the scene in The Shining when Shelley Duvall reads Jack Nicholson's "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" written over and over and thinks, "Oh my god—he's bat-shit crazy!"

You should get a big fluorescent Mr. Yuck tattooed across your forehead so that people know what to expect from you.