Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

You purposely kept all that things correspondence. And tried to explain it away. Fucking really?  Do you enjoy how much this hurts me? Do you enjoy how that thing used you and then spit you out? Is that a happy memory for you? Is my crying? I am tired of this thing haunting me. Evil cunt poltergeist.  It will never go away; it's my cross to bear, apparently. 

It is very reasonable to cut people out of your life who are evil, using, selfish, toxic, rude, and inconsiderate. People who do not value your life shouldn't be in your life. How else can one phrase that? What if Sylvia Plath had told Ted the PoS to take a hike at the first sighting of his true colors*? What if I hadn't wasted 34 years (and especially the last 16 of those 34 years) chasing the unicorn that was my parents love, approval, support, etc.? What if we put self-worth first and never accepted poor treatment? What if?  *I know it was very different back then, but maybe if she'd been able to rid herself of him, maybe she would've gotten the help she needed, and maybe she's still be alive. She would've turned 92 on October. What if?