Dear you,
If you're reading this, you're alive. That means, of course, I haven't done my job, and you're winning.
I know these words are pulling that big smile out of hiding. I know you're cracking open a bottle of Fi to celebrate. I know you're putting your bloody boots up on a porch somewhere so you can lean back and take in the sunset. I know this, because I know you, you little turd.
Don't worry. Not even for a minute. I'm coming, babe. And when I find you, I'm going to kill you. So go on. Delete this, and take a big gulp of your Fi. Soak in your last twilight. Sleep well. Dream well.
I'm coming for you. And I always will be.
Love you to death,
Me.
