Fuck you. I didn't do jackshit and now I'm getting blamed for doing everything. I honestly hope you fall on a sword, or equally pointy object. Do me a favor and go leave this house and never come back.
Dear #2,
For real? Honestly, if you are going to try and do shit behind my back, at least be sneaky.
Dear #3,
Your poem still makes me cry. I love you so much and you saved my life on Thursday.
Dear #4,
Stop being such a stupid whoreslut, and stop acting stupid. No one cares about you, now stop.
Dear #5,
You have the power to stop all of your suffering, if you only had the balls to do it.
Dear #6,
Your pantry comes from heaven.
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