A Letter to my (dead) Wife
You think I don't know? You think I am that stupid not to realize your ways?
Think again bitch. I know everything, and it will haunt you come divorce time.
I know what you did after three months of marriage.
I know the lies you told, and the guys you fucked. How? I have confessions and I have statements catching you in the act.
I know about the guy across the street. He told me everything before bashing you.
I know about the guy serving in Iraq. May he be the only one killed. How do I know, the e-mails you sent him and the defense fight you tried.
I know about your ex. May he kill you. Wether it be by physical abuse or drugs.
How do I know about your ex? Your friends, who by the way, are also my friends, and they have desency and respect relationships.
You were complaining about your friend being cheated on? Looks whos fucking talking.
Three guys at three different times.
I may not be very outgoing, but the ones I know have all the info I need about you.
And guess what else I have? All of you possessions except your clothes. You can get them back if you want, but make sure your the highest bidder on eBay.
All the proceeds from your shit will fund the divorce.
So before you start thinking that I am some retard that doesn't know anything, think again, I know more than you think. I know so much shit, that it's scary, even to lawyers.
Go ahead and tell mommy and daddy what a terrible person I am. After they find out about all this, I don't think you will have a mommy or daddy to go back to.
I will not support you, because I believe it's illegal to support a drug habit.
Which brings me to the next topic.
Of all the guys to fuck and go back with, why do you choose some one that got you into drugs, that nearly crushed your throat, that fractured your tailbone, and that shot BB's and paintballs at his dog AND daughter of seven years?
I mean, does that make any sense to go from a great life that I offered you, to a life of abuse and drugs?
But then again you have no clue about the world and have never grown up.
I always wondered why you got so defensive when I asked if you were cheating on me, but now all my questions about you are solved.
You are a drug-addicted slut who needs nothing in life than sex and whoring online. You are a terrible wife and a horrible mother. If I was your father, I would be ashamed to call you my own.
You have a son, three years old now. Ever since I took him under my wing, he learned a lot. He started watching education children programs, he started talking and forming sentences, he even started showing compassion and respect. But that's what I taught him. From what I know, your teachings would be how to combine ammonia and sudafed to create a wonder drug called meth and he will go down the same path as you.
So enjoy being a slut, enjoy being abused, and if you need money, prostitute for it, your already doing it for free, might as well make money off it.
Don't call me, don't e-mail me, don't even fucking think about me. You are dead to me and always will be.
Oh, one last thing, stay away from Long Island, your type is not accepted here, and I have the whole world behind me. The last thing you will get is a paper with the words divorce decree on it.
Enjoy your pathetic life, I hope you die soon so the world can be a better place.
