Breakup Letter Generator

[Katsu]

Asa. Bantuind Az-ul am dat de diferite topic-uri. Am venit si eu cu unul. Nu am vazut asa ceva pe Az pana acum, so cred ca e ok.
Breakup Letter Generator - aici

A mea:
Dear Marius:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

Marius, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, Marius, in the 2 months that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some asshole who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The guy for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work he'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with him. When, I still rebuffed this dream guyof mine he'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how he was going to kill himself. I would half-heartedly talk him out of it, at which point he'd blame it all on me. Finally, he'd keep repeating how he didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day he would call, and we'd do it all over again. Marius, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even mail me a package containing a dissected animal and a picture of your ***** with the phrase, "love is death and death is love" meticoulusly and randomly written all over it..

Jesus, Marius, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every girl unthinkingly says she wants a Romeo, but this Juliet needs hers to do his part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

Nykky

P.S. I might have accidentally fucked your mom. My bad.

[Daria v2]

Dear XYZ:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

XYZ, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, XYZ, in the 10 days that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some asshole who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The guy for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work he'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with him. When, I still rebuffed this dream guyof mine he'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how he was going to kill himself. I would half-heartedly talk him out of it, at which point he'd blame it all on me. Finally, he'd keep repeating how he didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day he would call, and we'd do it all over again. XYZ, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even mail me a package containing a dissected animal and a picture of your ***** with the phrase, "love is death and death is love" meticoulusly and randomly written all over it..

Jesus, XYZ, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every girl unthinkingly says she wants a Romeo, but this Juliet needs hers to do his part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

Daria

P.S. Tell your friends and brother that I am single again. All except the fat one.

LOL

[yaoi maniac]

Me guta (hahaha, not gusta).

Dear No Name:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

No Name, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, No Name, in the no tim cause I fucked him that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some asshole who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The guy for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work he'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with him. When, I still rebuffed this dream guyof mine he'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how he was going to kill himself. I would half-heartedly talk him out of it, at which point he'd blame it all on me. Finally, he'd keep repeating how he didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day he would call, and we'd do it all over again. No Name, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even mail me a package containing a dissected animal and a picture of your ***** with the phrase, "love is death and death is love" meticoulusly and randomly written all over it..

Jesus, No Name, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every girl unthinkingly says she wants a Romeo, but this Juliet needs hers to do his part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

S. Andreea

P.S. If you lose 140 lbs. and get a cock implant--call me. Maybe we can give it another shot.

Postscritp-ul e misto, iar chestia cu nebuna de adevaratelea mi se potriveste de minune!
/edit M-am gandit sa aleg si un alt post-script.

Adieu,

S. Andreea

P.S. You really were going to erase that video tape, right?

[Addeh]

Dearest R.,

This breakup letter should come as no surprise nor cause any heartache to someone as cold hearted as you. Time and again I've tried to get you to show me how much you care. Time and again I've been rudefully rebuffed.

I have emotions. I have needs. I have love to express. But you, Mr. Selfish, just don't care that you make me feel like my needs, emotions and loving intentions are shamefully wrong. Well news flash, R., they aren't. So, after 2 weeks I'm ending this charade of a relationship in hopes of finding someone who is emotionally mature enough to love me like I need to be; anally.

Don't come crawling back on your hands and knees all lubed up and asking for a second chance because behind us are your chances of me loving your behind.

You see, to me and people who aren't emotionally dead inside like you, cornholing is a beautiful way of making love. It lets the cornholee (you) know that they are special and very important to the cornholer (me). The ironic thing is that you always talked about taking our relationship to the 'next level', but you're just a man of words, not actions. You gave me lip service when I needed my ass serviced.

I mean, what's more intimate and meaningful than making sweet beautiful anal love? Butt nooky isn't something you dive head first in with just anyone. No, the person whose tootsie roll hole you hammer is someone extra special. You can keep your vows and veils and rings and ceremonies. I want something that actually means something. A trip down Hershey Highway is infinitely more meaningful than one down the aisle. It says that what we have is something special, something beautiful, something so important to both of us that it can only be expressed by melovingly plugging yourpooper.

But no, you say its dirty. It's wrong. It goes against god. Well boo-fucking-hoo. To us in the real world with hearts that function, that's called love. You don't have to sugar coat it, I know how you really feel about me. Its obvious that your just hiding behind those absurd reasons because I am not the one for you. I truly hope you find the girl that you can bend in front of, jelly up, and unconditionally love. For me, that person was you. Sadly, my love, feelings and yearnings to poke youin the brown eye go unrequited.

Love,

Adina

P.S. You really were tested for those lesions and they were negative, right?


De ce am impresia ca e cam p0rn ?
EDIT:
Adina dumps R's sorry ass!

dafuq?!

[Fata cu par de foc]

Dearest Cosmin,

This breakup letter should come as no surprise nor cause any heartache to someone as cold hearted as you. Time and again I've tried to get you to show me how much you care. Time and again I've been rudefully rebuffed.

I have emotions. I have needs. I have love to express. But you, Mr. Selfish, just don't care that you make me feel like my needs, emotions and loving intentions are shamefully wrong. Well news flash, Cosmin, they aren't. So, after 8 months I'm ending this charade of a relationship in hopes of finding someone who is emotionally mature enough to love me like I need to be; anally.

Don't come crawling back on your hands and knees all lubed up and asking for a second chance because behind us are your chances of me loving your behind.

You see, to me and people who aren't emotionally dead inside like you, cornholing is a beautiful way of making love. It lets the cornholee (you) know that they are special and very important to the cornholer (me). The ironic thing is that you always talked about taking our relationship to the 'next level', but you're just a man of words, not actions. You gave me lip service when I needed my ass serviced.

I mean, what's more intimate and meaningful than making sweet beautiful anal love? Butt nooky isn't something you dive head first in with just anyone. No, the person whose tootsie roll hole you hammer is someone extra special. You can keep your vows and veils and rings and ceremonies. I want something that actually means something. A trip down Hershey Highway is infinitely more meaningful than one down the aisle. It says that what we have is something special, something beautiful, something so important to both of us that it can only be expressed by melovingly plugging yourpooper.

But no, you say its dirty. It's wrong. It goes against god. Well boo-fucking-hoo. To us in the real world with hearts that function, that's called love. You don't have to sugar coat it, I know how you really feel about me. Its obvious that your just hiding behind those absurd reasons because I am not the one for you. I truly hope you find the girl that you can bend in front of, jelly up, and unconditionally love. For me, that person was you. Sadly, my love, feelings and yearnings to poke youin the brown eye go unrequited.

Love,

Ana

P.S. If you think about it, give your grandfather my number.


Riscand sa fiu la fel de porcoasa ca scrisoarea, m-a ***** la creieri! ..

[Azazel]

Dear FkYea:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

FkYea, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, FkYea, in the 100 that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some bitch who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The girl for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work she'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with her. When, I still rebuffed this dream girlof mine she'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how she was going to kill herself. I would half-heartedly talk her out of it, at which point she'd blame it all on me. Finally, she'd keep repeating how she didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day she would call, and we'd do it all over again. FkYea, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even fake a pregnancy or press false rape charges..

Jesus, FkYea, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every guy unthinkingly says he wants a Juliet, but this Romeo needs his to do her part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

MeGusta

P.S. You really were tested for those lesions and they were negative, right?

Megusta

[Mykoto]

Nykky Phoenix , sper ca nu-i acelasi Marius

Marius,

Remember how I said that at the end of the month I was going to make a lot of money? Well good news my ship came in. Now, I know you were a little apprehensive about it because I wouldn't tell you exactly how I was making the money. Well, let me put those fears aside. It wasn't drugs. It wasn't selling some eggs. It wasn't anything illegal or immoral in anyway. It was a bet I won by dating you for 1 year .

You're probably getting mad right now or think this is a dumb, cruel joke; but its not, and you don't need to get angry. In fact we can both enjoy a good laugh if we just take a step back and think about our relationship objectively for a moment. I'm sure after realizing how illogical the two of us being together without one of us doing it to win something is, you will see the humor and intelligence in me taking such a bet and pretending to be with you all this time.

First off, I mean, me honestly dating you? You're a great guy and all, but, come on. I don't want to get into a game of who-can-do-better-than-whom, let's just leave it at that and enjoy a good laugh at how implausible us being together without one of us trying to win a bet is. And second, it's a lot of money. Granted, no one would've fake dated you for chump change, but I made a pretty penny considering that even.

Sure, it wasn't as easy as I thought it was going to be. I mean with the all the yak yak yak, and the being seen in public and the massaging and the well, other stuff I had to do to keep the charade up. I really earned it this last 1 year .

I do want to tell you that of all the dupes in the world, I'm not not glad that it was you. Being with you was really not that horrible. It was even tolerable at times, and I thank you for that. I would like to say "we can still be friends" but that wasn't part of the wager. You understand.

Thanks For Everything,

Deea

P.S. Enclosed are some chocolates--No hard feelings. Just go ahead and eat them.

[yaoi maniac]

Dearest Elena,

This breakup letter should come as no surprise nor cause any heartache to someone as cold hearted as you. Time and again I've tried to get you to show me how much you care. Time and again I've been rudefully rebuffed.

I have emotions. I have needs. I have love to express. But you, Mr. Selfish, just don't care that you make me feel like my needs, emotions and loving intentions are shamefully wrong. Well news flash, Elena, they aren't. So, after two days I'm ending this charade of a relationship in hopes of finding someone who is emotionally mature enough to love me like I need to be; anally.

Don't come crawling back on your hands and knees all lubed up and asking for a second chance because behind us are your chances of me loving your behind.

You see, to me and people who aren't emotionally dead inside like you, cornholing is a beautiful way of making love. It lets the cornholee (you) know that they are special and very important to the cornholer (me). The ironic thing is that you always talked about taking our relationship to the 'next level', but you're just a man of words, not actions. You gave me lip service when I needed my ass serviced.

I mean, what's more intimate and meaningful than making sweet beautiful anal love? Butt nooky isn't something you dive head first in with just anyone. No, the person whose tootsie roll hole you hammer is someone extra special. You can keep your vows and veils and rings and ceremonies. I want something that actually means something. A trip down Hershey Highway is infinitely more meaningful than one down the aisle. It says that what we have is something special, something beautiful, something so important to both of us that it can only be expressed by melovingly plugging yourpooper.

But no, you say its dirty. It's wrong. It goes against god. Well boo-fucking-hoo. To us in the real world with hearts that function, that's called love. You don't have to sugar coat it, I know how you really feel about me. Its obvious that your just hiding behind those absurd reasons because I am not the one for you. I truly hope you find the girl that you can bend in front of, jelly up, and unconditionally love. For me, that person was you. Sadly, my love, feelings and yearnings to poke youin the brown eye go unrequited.

Love,

Andreea

P.S. You really were tested for those lesions and they were negative, right?

Not really what I wanted, but... T . o
(Yes, Elena is a girl)

[Stormrage]

Dear Pieceofshit:

Storm is dead and shit. So you should probably just go on with your life and stuff. Everyone is sad and crying and all that bullshit, but don't get all broken up and shit, I mean it was just barely milions of years, if that long, you two went out. You should just forget about her and never talk about Storm to anyone because everyone is so torn up and shit that they are probably having that denial stuff and think she's still alive. But she aint because she's dead.

Storm just wanted to let you know that you were important to her and all that crap. Also, she wants you to get on with your life and just pretend like she's dead because she is. No reason to try and see her in the coffin or go to the funeral because she got cremated and crap. I think they scattered her ashes in the oceans and read some poetry bullshit about her being free and wanting you to be also.

Her estate though, does need all her stuff back that you have. It's in her will thing. So just go ahead and mail that back to the address you have for Storm. If you need some of your shit back just put a note in the box you use to mail their shit and we'll box up your crap and put it on your doorstop some day. All except your dvd of the 3rd season of Mad About You because she never fucking had it in the first place like she told you a million times. Plus she hates that Paul Riser cunt.

Sincelery,

The Estate Of Storm.

P.S. Enjoy the anal herpes.

[Nero19]

Dear you

Hope you are OK because I'm not. I hate you since you cheated me with that guy and I swear that I would make you pay. To pay for loving you so much, to pay for leaving me like that and to pay for destroying my heart. Good bye and I wish you having a sweet life with him near you. I will try to survive and if I would fail then I will just stay clam and I will try to fight until the final moment.

You know very well what beautiful moments we had spent together and still and I really can't believe why did you did it....why did you cheated me? You did it for money, didn't you? Or just to play with him like you did it with me?

I still don't know your reason but trust me when I'm telling you that I will get my vengeance. So now the only thing that you can do it is to wait at what is worst...

Have a nice life,
Lavi