With a folded piece of paper, tucked into her jean pocket, it read:

"I am a liar,
a hypocrite,
a crybaby,
a bastard,
oh I hope you don't read on,
('cause) I'll certainly carry on,
a bitch myself,
a whiner,
a whiz,
a retard, so brilliant,
I'm clever and stupid,
a back-talker, I'm genius.

Why did you keep on?"

It stopped on that note, nothing more or less.
Reading it was horrible, too bad it was too late.