Gotta get this off my chest...
This is to let you know what I think of you, pretentious fake little slapper, not that you give a shit but I have to get it off my chest you waste of air space.
I am the person you once referred to, in your repulsive fake mockney accent, as ‘the stalker’. Who are you kidding, with your expensive education trying to talk like Jamie Oliver on helium? Not me, and probably not your husband whose face you spit in by shagging other men so you can obtain your drugs.
You are a piece of scum, and unbeknown to you I am living in hell thanks to the money that was mine that went up your ugly nose. Don’t take this as a threat, but was I lacking in self control you would have no nose left to snort anything with at all you ugly bitch.
I was no stalker. The money that went up your little orifice last year was mine, and the man who gave it you was my boyfriend, whatever he or that ugly hag Angela who you
fell in love with at first sight told you. Just shows how fick you are, don’t it ,you with your stupid nickname. Who are you trying to impress on facebook? Not me and likely not others, save for the hag. Why don’t you two just get it on you dirty pair of slags.
You revolt me. The memory of your voice brings me close to violence, Minnie Mouse with a fake cockney voice. You waste oxygen by simply living. I hope one day you know what pain is, the pain you have contributed to bringing me.
The money and drugs that were mine, given you by my psychotic boyfriend who ended up in hospital with convulsions overdosing on my gear, not yours you scumbag. I hope one day your comfy life ends and you live the hell I now live. I hope your husband leaves you and sees you for what you are. And now my fool of a man has no drugs, where are you, you fake friend? He would once not let me say a word against you, even when I was the only one who visited him in hospital, you or the hag were not bothered as you had what you wanted, you pair of ugly slags. Was I totally out of control you would be even uglier than you are, and face it, Sam, you are no oil painting as it is. I got your hag mate on his phone that day and heard your voice in the background ‘is that the stalker’ on your foul high pitched mockney voice. You and that hag both…….rot in hell. Forever. I may be Catholic, but as I am deep in sin it is not in my heart to forgive you. The hag knew that was my money, my drugs, and she did not care. You are lower than a piece of cats shit, both of you.
To quote Eminem, ‘die, bitch, die’.
4 years ago