The image that holds to me tightest, is that moment after I hung up the phone. The echo of my father's voice waving slightly when he told me what it was you had done.

Of all the death in bottles you had to choose from, it was one so delightfully benign.

A coma is quite malignant if you look at the grand scope of things. One step below terminal, I suppose it was the most fitting.

I hate you sometimes, do you know that?

I hate you for taking that fall.

How long did you really think about it? How long when you really decided to die? Did you think about me or my brothers? Your children when you wanted suicide?

We all know what you thought of him. We all know what you really meant to do.

You say now that it was a flight from your sadness. You say now that you just wanted to get away.

But that's not what you said when you woke up. But that's not the truth and we all know it.

You wanted victory with your exit.

That mother's guilt you lay upon all of us.

You're sick and you're in pain and you're selfish.

How could you just try to kill yourself. How could you say it was his fault?

How could you expect me ever to love you again?

I hate you so much that it is palpable. I hate you so much I wish you died.

When I hung up that phone my whole world crashed. When I hung up the phone I just screamed. I buried my face into the carpet and wailed like I had never done.

I know that's what you wanted and I hope you enjoy it.

You wanted to hurt me and the people you loved because you wanted us to share in your pain.

Well you win and you have that.

Too bad you don't have anything else.

I hate you, you fucking selfish little cunt.

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