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Saturday July 29th 2006, 8:48 am
Filed under: All Letters,Hate Letters

Dearest,

Please, be afraid of my thoughts. Please, worry about how I feel towards you. Let me begin by stating, youíre a quitter, a useless speck of instability that I find repulsive and vile. You are the odious worm who wanders in and out of the dirt to feed off the leftover mental accomplishments of others. You have neither the capacity for thought nor the ability to love. You areóand I do mean thisó a terrible human being. Or maybe, you donít even qualify as human; you are below the lowliest human, an exotic ape. Humans are, in comparison to you, delightful creatures. You are sick: no, better, sickening. I become sick when I think of you. Your insides are rotting pieces of flesh that smell worse than the shit you spew from your little precious cracked mouth. A bowl of my own vomit would taste better than the taste I have in my mouth when I say your name. But I guess there is a place for you on this Earth, and it rests between the stovetop and the bottom of the pan. Not even Hell is bad enough for you. Somewhere in the stink of Satanís armpit lies your home. Oh, and by the way, any pleasure you get from this letter, and pleasure you get from life, ever, belongs to NO ONE but me. This is the cost of my love that you gave up on so quickly. So, go fuck your ex, go fuck whomever you wish for all I care. Youíre a fucking poor excuse for a human being. You donít have the mental capacity to experience any appreciation besides a good fuck. Please, by all means, delve into your retched self, your nasty narcissism, and fall flat on your face. The concrete will only be a release from your wicked life. Youíre a dime-a-dozen dearest, and you know this. Your faÁade canít mask your emptiness for long. Good bye you bitch.

Love,

(me).

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