Post by cureforthesickness on Jun 27, 2006 22:23:57 GMT -5
To whom it may concern..
To whom it may concern. I leave you in the misery I have enjoyed and sought in for so long. I leave you with the thoughts that run through my head in my final hour, as I watch this rope dangle from the ceiling. I sit here, relaxed, not even worried of what may become of me. F*ck it. This whole f*cking world turned on me. No friends. No family. None of that soul mate sh*t. And my only kid is six feet under. I may as well join her. Murder is not something I approve of and it tears me apart every time I think about it. That innocent, young, fragile, being, murdered. She hadn’t a care in the world, but she still ended up dead. The world is so fair and equal. F*ck that. If it is, then why is my f*cking kid dead? Why the f*ck couldn’t it have been me? I don’t give a f*ck about my life. My life is sh*t. My life is less than sh*t. My life is beyond sh*t. It would have been a f*cking blessing for my life to be ended, but instead, my innocent, sweet daughter dies. Tell me the world is correct. My daughter dies in the prime of her life, but people who want to die, can’t. And people can fake they want to die, just to get out of their problems. F*cking gay Trent Draven. But he is of the least of my worries. I won’t even fight him. F*ck that, the whole f*cking show will be dedicated in my memory. Rest in peace Obo. The simplest slip could cause my “untimely” death. I hope I don’t fall. It would cause my family to be very sad. F*ck my family. The money grubbing ass holes. Hey mom, instead of asking me how much I made, maybe ask me if I’m okay.. Bitch. F*ck my fans too. They all suck. Where the f*ck where they when I was bleeding to death on pay per view? They were sitting back, enjoying themselves, and chanting “HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T!” F*ck your chant. Maybe you should f*cking help me. These fans wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire and they’d take my last dollar just to buy a pack of gum. My fans are going to be the death of me. This blood is on your hands fans. All you fans that pushed me into barbed wire matches, all you fans that watched with joy as I was tossed into thumbtacks, all you fans that loved watching me dropped on solid concrete, all you fans that encouraged the f*cking intellectually- disabled hobo comedy shtick, all you fans that rapidly cheered at me having my head dipped into dangerous chemicals. I live with the pain no longer. You live with the guilt forever. At this current moment, my head is wounded from my battle at the show. The stitches were just removed earlier today, and it is bleeding like a son of a bitch. It’ll make the scene look more dramatic. Whoever finds me hanging here, finds a pool of blood. It’ll make everything look bad ass. But with this, I leave you. I leave this Earth. I leave these mortals. And I become immortal. Farewell cruel world..
- Obo
PS: I’m not going to f*cking kill myself. But Trent Draven, come Odium, You’ll wish you did.
To whom it may concern. I leave you in the misery I have enjoyed and sought in for so long. I leave you with the thoughts that run through my head in my final hour, as I watch this rope dangle from the ceiling. I sit here, relaxed, not even worried of what may become of me. F*ck it. This whole f*cking world turned on me. No friends. No family. None of that soul mate sh*t. And my only kid is six feet under. I may as well join her. Murder is not something I approve of and it tears me apart every time I think about it. That innocent, young, fragile, being, murdered. She hadn’t a care in the world, but she still ended up dead. The world is so fair and equal. F*ck that. If it is, then why is my f*cking kid dead? Why the f*ck couldn’t it have been me? I don’t give a f*ck about my life. My life is sh*t. My life is less than sh*t. My life is beyond sh*t. It would have been a f*cking blessing for my life to be ended, but instead, my innocent, sweet daughter dies. Tell me the world is correct. My daughter dies in the prime of her life, but people who want to die, can’t. And people can fake they want to die, just to get out of their problems. F*cking gay Trent Draven. But he is of the least of my worries. I won’t even fight him. F*ck that, the whole f*cking show will be dedicated in my memory. Rest in peace Obo. The simplest slip could cause my “untimely” death. I hope I don’t fall. It would cause my family to be very sad. F*ck my family. The money grubbing ass holes. Hey mom, instead of asking me how much I made, maybe ask me if I’m okay.. Bitch. F*ck my fans too. They all suck. Where the f*ck where they when I was bleeding to death on pay per view? They were sitting back, enjoying themselves, and chanting “HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T!” F*ck your chant. Maybe you should f*cking help me. These fans wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire and they’d take my last dollar just to buy a pack of gum. My fans are going to be the death of me. This blood is on your hands fans. All you fans that pushed me into barbed wire matches, all you fans that watched with joy as I was tossed into thumbtacks, all you fans that loved watching me dropped on solid concrete, all you fans that encouraged the f*cking intellectually- disabled hobo comedy shtick, all you fans that rapidly cheered at me having my head dipped into dangerous chemicals. I live with the pain no longer. You live with the guilt forever. At this current moment, my head is wounded from my battle at the show. The stitches were just removed earlier today, and it is bleeding like a son of a bitch. It’ll make the scene look more dramatic. Whoever finds me hanging here, finds a pool of blood. It’ll make everything look bad ass. But with this, I leave you. I leave this Earth. I leave these mortals. And I become immortal. Farewell cruel world..
- Obo
PS: I’m not going to f*cking kill myself. But Trent Draven, come Odium, You’ll wish you did.
