simply delete all of my old posts? 

Allow them to mysteriously disappear?

Or do I leave them?

I'm of mind to erase all evidence that Surreal ever existed.

Nothing is surreal about me.

I am plain.  boring. annoying. useless. careless. meaningless. ugly.

I wonder if I could make an ABC of me.

Let's see. 
Annoying. Boring. Careless. Distressing. E... hm, doesn't spring to mind immediately... Exhausting. Faithless. Godforsaken. Horrible. Ignorant. (or I rather like 'insubordinate') Justice-less? No... Jerk works, I guess. K. K used to be for kisses... kindness. HA. No. K can mean killing. L? There's no such thing as love, so that's out of the question. Lifeless? I guess that describes how I've been lately. Mean. Nasty. Ogre-ish doesn't really work, simply because I haven't the build of a brute. I suppose one might call me "ostentatious" due to my affinity for fanciful perfection, but I don't think it fits with this alphabet. Ordinary works quite well. Plain. Q... Q? I'm by no means quixotic, and though my name is, a queen I am not. Quandriful, there we go. R... there is nothing that fits? I suppose I could say rambling. There we go, since I'm a rambler by the sound of it. Slut. Perhaps the easiest, or maybe W is. Terrible. Ugly. Virtue-less. WORTHLESS. W was the easiest. X... X is very hard. Xerotic, meaning dry, or Xanthippe, which is an ill tempered woman. I think the second fits best. For Y, I could make a racial slur, or I could say Yeasty, meaning insubstantial. Zealess.

I have to somehow destroy all evidence that Surreal ever existed. If we do not exist, our alter-egos may not be together, either.

Why spend so much time building Klexur and Surreal Lumen when they should never have existed in the first place? When they should be destroyed a week later?

Why write their names in the sand? 

It was all a lie, wasn't it?

All of it.

Everything.

You told me you'd be my penguin. You told me that we'd have our own little forever.

What happened to our dream house? Our kids?
Did that all mean nothing?

You never truly loved me.

If you did, you wouldn't have done this to me.

I can't hate you.

I love you too much.

I hate myself for that.

I am nothing.

I am worth nothing. 

You still own me.

You own my heart, my body, my soul.

You say you've just finally reached the point where you didn't constantly think of me. Why should you have thought of me at all?

Obviously it didn't matter that you were killing me or you would have stopped sooner. 

You say it just doesn't work that way, that you can't make yourself feel that way again. It's because you don't want to.

You know what my biggest problem I had with our relationship was? There were two of equal weight. I had no clue when you were going to randomly lash out at me, and it felt too permanent. 

It was almost too much.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk myself into giving you back your hoodie...

I originally wanted the dogtags back. Now I just want to put a few bullets through them both. I don't think I can bear to see my name next to yours. 

My wishing well splashed back.