As I lay here on this replica of mediocre Swedish furniture. While you timidly look for whatever deceitful item you don’t want me to visualize. I act coy as if I am unintuitively focused on this writing like a burglar who is taking his last breath just as the owner bashes the person’s head in gruesomely, un-relentlessly to protect what is precious to them. You aren’t tricking me or pulling the wool over my eyes.

“The friendly ghost” doesn’t give a goddamn about you, as long as your have bread to feed his fanatical passion for my favorite substance. Almost as devoted as a vegan is to Trader Joe’s. I have a request, stop downplaying the venom that runs through my veins. That least sentence isn’t directed at anyone in particular, I just find it slanderous to complain about your minor, temporary discomfort you feel knowing your speaking to a human whom will be living with a MAJOR disease that will last the rest of their time here. Here it is, you’re a tactless, groaning self-centered person.

I’m glad your false sense of self-love is felt momentarily, so you can get a taste of it, only to be surely pulled away from your narcissistic, greedy, desperate hands. I bid you adieu hogwash.

Yours truly, Henk H.