I have no problem unconditionally loving the memory of you and moving on,
Most thieves do plan to flee under cover of darkness. So what?
as you proved that your value of me doesn't measure up to my self-worth.
You have spent years talking mad shit and taking money to destroy my character — amongst all manner of other dimwitted, low-vibe shenanigans that don't bear repeating any mention of.
You don't get a kudos. You get scorn.
While my love is unconditional, your presence in my life is not.
I guess this is code, or something. Look, I never asked you and your ilk to get all up in my business — you saw opportunities to rip me off and you took them.
Predictable results have ensued. You could have been a lot more careful and respectful, and none of you were. Maybe you should all get real jobs.
It's not revenge. It's consequence. I don't give a shit how your shit has blown up; I'm sure it serves you goddam right. It never occurred to me that your parasitic ways would be something I'd have to suffer the experience of... I honestly thought you were all smarter than that.
I forgot: you are all whores and you all have pimps and you're all fully susceptible to bribery, blackmail, coercion, extortion, and
et cetera. I really don't know who is behind it all but whomever encouraged you to believe that relentlessly defaming me with your bullshit lies and regular, abusive use of the silent treatment was a wise hobby to pursue as a pastime is undoubtedly far more miserable than you.
I'm fine. Thanks for the conspiracy. Next time steal from someone else's family, you ghetto-chic thug. And if
any of you nit-wit twits
ever lie to me again, you can expect the same outcome:
Consequences.
Special consequences.
