I thought you all should know exactly the way we feel after you, well, break our hearts. So I'm going to tell you, and I'll try being as honest and even nice while I do so, when all I should really do is yank your eyeballs out of their sockets.
Remember that first time you held her hand? It wasn't such a big deal was it? Obviously not. Because all you were thinking of was how you were going to make your next move. You want to know what she felt? Nothing in the world would probably give her the sheer joy, the bliss, of just sitting beside you, having her fingers locked in yours, melting with pure happiness. For all of you it was just a moment amongst many. For us, that one moment, could form a story...
Remember when you finally went down on your knees and said those magical words? Of course you do. That was the "move" that finally allowed you to do whatever the hell you wanted with her, or so you thought. You want to know what it signified for us? We thought, 'hey, he really loves me! He really wants to be with me... and nobody else!' You thought, 'yeah well, we'll see.'
Finally, do you remember when you sat her down and told her, "I don't think it's working out for us anymore, we both want different things," and she thought 'but you want me and I want you. What's so different about that?' Then you said, "I really like you, but I just don't want to hurt you," she thought, 'I'm half-dead already,' and your final blow, "let's please remain good friends?" What about her? You really want to know? She thought, 'I'd do anything you want me to. Even this.'
Then what? You "move on." You tell her to "move on." Don't you dare. Because it's really none of your business.
Wallowing in self-pity,
P.S. F*** you.