In this moment, as you lay dying – if that’s what you’re truly up to, I feel nothing. No sadness for your suffering, no remorse for your demise, no instinctive guilt. In fact, I’m more moved by my embarrassment of feeling nothing than I am affected by the thought of your loss. Who were we to each other anyway? Did you truly care? I know you did a little, but not enough to stop her – your wife, from reigning down terror on me. So now I’m sure you understand that for me self preservation is top of mind. I hated you then but now I don’t think of you at all. You have no place in my heart. My mind stirs with guilt over my lack of feeling for your frail being. You’re a bitch too. Bye.

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