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OPEN LETTER TO PSYCHO

Dear Freak:

I'm NOT your "bachelor party." I don't WANT to see you. Ever again. STOP TEXT-MESSAGING ME, OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL PUT YOUR NAME, NUMBERS, ADDRESS, ETC. ALL OVER MY JOURNAL, and in every community that will guarantee you won't sleep another night. Ever. Clearly, either the police or my attorney FINALLY got you.

After 57382573295 text messages, begging to see me, etc. etc. etc., don't you think after my 'NO' response, I MEANT IT?

Believe it.


Since your "messages" have been so vague, I KNOW now that you're not leaving (which kinda makes me sick), and also means you're probably getting married YET AGAIN (which is sad for her).

But contact me again, and you're going to jail. Comprende, esse?

Yes, Richard Tennyson.


This is for you. This time, stop with your insanity. Your "game" is up. I'm your ex for a REAL GOOD reason. I'm ashamed of that fact, by the way. You're the worst husband/boyfriend/whatever I've ever been involved with in every way (um...you SO DON'T want me to get in to details here, which I'll happily do if you contact me even one more time.

I *do* know what is going on. I'm not as stupid as I look you. You really ARE an idiot. And for the love of GOD and your NEW ex-wife-to-be, GET HELP.

< / psycho comments forevermore, THANK GOD.

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Words.

Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card
Which is blank, is something that he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself;

One must be so careful these days.
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