Amy: Dug up people's hearts for attention. She'll do anything for it. First met after Shawnathan had pretended to commit suicide. I was Shawn's good friend at the time, so I had to somehow "comfort" her while Shawnathan's endearing death was played faultiness.
                                                    Told me several times, "Oh, Jared, I love you more than I ever loved Shawn."
How is that supposed to make him feel?
                                      I remember she wouldn't let me see her face. I was practically talking to a faceless sex demon that wanted me online 24/7 to roleplay a hug or a kiss or a fake FUCK.
Fuck you, Amy. Blame everything on me and pretend you're the good guy. C'mon. You're fucking ugly. I fucking hate you, but I fucking love you at the same time. Why the fuck is it so hard to just. let. go.
Post your pathetic song lyrics of Panic at the disco and Fall out boy. They fucking suck. Pete Wentz is only attractive because his hair has a flip and Patrick STUMP or whatever is a fat homo.
You make me fucking sick. Everything about you. I text me from time to time, asking how I am, how my day was. A simple hello and I'm back in your arms. WELL. FUCK. YOU.
You played me over and over and over and I was still there to comfort you when Chris took you in the woods and supposedly raped you. I was there. I said, "Amy, it's okay. Everything will be fine," but what I really wanted to say was, "you fucking deserved it, you bitch."
When I talked to her, I just wanted to beat her face in with a crowbar, beat all of her teeth out, deform her face, like she deformed my heart.
                                                                    Amy, Amy, Amy... there was a time where I loved you. I gave you my fucking heart. I showed you every possible thing that I held so close. Every secret. Every smile, every frown. Amy, I loved you.
I can't say that anymore.      

Cece: She was a doll. Beautiful. Almost perfect. I could tell she wanted more and more of me from the beginning. She was interested. Intrigued. She was kind-hearted, sweet . . . I loved her. I remember those nights we would stay up late, and she'd tease me on webcam when she lifted up her shirt more and more. And I just wanted to see her stomache. Her tummy. It was cute. Perfect. Smooth. White.
And then she turned ugly. She started to hate everything I said. Doubted my love. Doubted me, as a human. My existence. As if she wanted nothing to do with me.
                                                                                           We were going to get married. Have children. Grow old together.
We spoke on the phone for hours. Phone calls started at 9 at night, and ended at 6 in the morning.
I can still hear her moans. Her perfect, sweet moans.
Or that time she was at Wes' house, in Arizona. 3 in the morning, on webcam, and I told her to touch herself.
                                                                               She did, and she was shaking. Bliss. Her face...pain and love.

Now she won't even talk to me. She calls me a liar. And a fake. A fraud.
Just remember, Cece . . . I know what you look like. I know your secrets. How you were bulimic. The way you moan. I know you better than you think I do.
And the worst part is I'd take you back any day.