I finally told off my ex and after that, I've been pretty happy. Until now.
I am not an ass hole. Even though he was a jerk after we broke up, I'm keeping the photos of us, his sweatshirt, his gifts, etc. I don't like to throw away memories. I won't look at these things again until years from now but I'm keeping them. But I just read this poem he wrote on his facebook status: From cover to cover, the pages sizzled. Each photograph coiled and recoiled again, in limbo between flame and ash. I spat water on the live beast, which now lay dying in the grate. You are finished I say, not mine. The album shuddered a failing swoon. This calls for a celebration.
Pretty sure that means he burned the album I gave to him for Valentines day. Jack ass.