It's your prerogative
To cleanse your life, empty out it's past and move on, to leave no explanations, no pity, no shame. To usher the insensitive to the living and the not, to delete faces from your photographs and smile once more. I'm owed no explanation, as I was never bought and was never returned, but my past litters with others excrement. I'm sure you'll do it again and you've done it before, used and disposed, cared and then lost interest; I'm more sure that there'll be occasions where I'll be or have been the same. At the disposing end though, it's instinct to look for recovery, the need to fight is always pointless nowadays. But what can you do?
There's a million different ways to move on or to diminish, and to do either one you have to experience both. It's your prerogative to do as you please as it is mine, and that's all.