Fuck You, I'm Glad You Are Dead

I'm glad you are dead. I wish you could come back to life and die again.

I hate you.

I never thought I could hate someone, but guess what? I can.

Everyone loved you, including me. Then I found out what you did.

How could you do that?

Your fat body has fed thousands of worms by now, and I'm happy for it, those worms will have served a purpose in this life, you on the other hand were vile.

When you clutched your chest and fell into your plate dead I hope the last thing you thought about before your mind went blank was what you did to my daughter and how miserable your actions were.

YOU are gone, but we still live here. We still think about your sick ass.

I wish I could believe in Hell, it would serve me well to think of you there, but I don't. I don't believe in much of anything anymore.

How can a man get off from a three year old girl? How? Why?

How could you have done that and not feel guilt? Did you really think she would ever forget? Your own granddaughter?

I was one of the first people to arrive at the hospital you were taken to. Your kids were too overcome to take care of anything, so was your wife. I still had your last name so everyone thought I was your family. I was left to handle your arrangements.

Funny how that worked out, isn't it?

Everyone thought it was so sweet when I bent in close to your face, my hair falling over your head in a neat little curtain. They all assumed I kissed you goodbye, but you and I know I spit in your gaping mouth.

When I went to the funeral home to preview their work, the morticians were horribly upset. Your obese and disgusting piggy body had sat too long before it was embalmed, they weren't able to position your hands into peaceful repose. I was though. I snapped your fingers so they lay flat. I like the way that felt. I like to imagine it hurt you.

She still hurts. She will always hurt. YOU did that to her.

I'm glad you are dead. I wish you could come back to life and die again.