I trusted you. I trusted you even when you said it was over. I trusted you when you lied and said everything fell apart. I trusted that you were the one walking wounded, not the one who made the mark.
You do not get to act like the injured when you are the one who gives up, who never tried. You do not get my pity or my compassion when you can only live life when it is easy and caters solely to your own self. You do not get to make yourself look like the victim when you sneak away and lie to your dying wife and adopted children while you do so to carry on an adulterous relationship with a girl younger than your wife’s Son and expect pity.
Least of all do you get to play the pity party when you’ve snuck off to dip your dick in another woman while your wife is alone recovering from another round of chemotherapy so she can live long enough to have more time with you; the man she abandoned her life, family and country to be with. You do not get to pretend to be kind, or generous, or good. You are none of those things.
You are a liar. You are cunning. You are weak. You are pathetic. You are disgusting. You break promises you never even intended to keep. You cheated on your ex wife and lied about it. You’re still married to your ex wife and lied about it. You are not my Father. You claim to want to stay in my life, but don’t you see that I can’t have a deceitfulous cunt in my life? For any reason? Why are you deserving of anything? To even shit on you would be a waste of my exertion. You are a minuscule, shrivelled little fuckass. You are nothing but a pathetic little fuckboy in man clothes playing a role you don’t deserve.
I let you lie to me and break my dying Mother’s heart. I hate you. I hope you get hit by a truck and die on fire burning in a coating of gasoline.
Fuck yourself and your Georgian horse riding whore, Sam Wolfe (aka Cunttana). Lose my number. Fuckface.