Never speak ill of the dead.
Tyaeda
Published
01/16/2014
Why the fuck not? Dying doesn't make you a decent person. In some cases, you deserve what you get, and sometimes that's a short life.
This blog was inspired by the recent passing of someone who was once a dear friend of mine. I say "once" because after discovering how shitty she was as a person, I cut ties.
The obituary says she died in her sleep, but having known her, it was probably an overdose. I didn't hate her because she had a drug problem. In my life there has been many people who suffer from addiction, very few I actually disliked for it. I believe that people can live hard lives, and not be miserable and take it out on everyone around them. They may not be what many would consider "good members of society" but they still have empathy, compassion, and are overall kind-natured people, who simply made mistakes.
Not this girl though. Let's call her Jane Doe. Jane was a cunt, and I can think of very few people who were shittier. Her little brother Jack was born with a severe birth defect. To surgically correct these problems, him and his family traveled more than half-way across Canada to see a specialist. They left Jane at home to watch the house while they were gone. During those 2 weeks, Jane pawned off her little brother's gaming systems, television, and other belongings, and spent that money on cocaine.
Jane was also responsible for many break and enters around town. One such house she stole from was her "best friends". Since Jane knew that her friend's family was out of town, she not only stole from them, but made herself comfortable watching movies, eating their food, and having sex with her boyfriend in her best friend's bed, tossing the condom onto the bedroom floor for her friend to clean up when she got home. Her "friend" called police, but they didn't arrest Jane, because there was not enough proof. So her "friend" confronted her, only for Jane to call the cops - her "friend" was arrested for threatening violence against her.
One time she sold a crack head drywall dust, telling him it was cocaine/meth. After the discovery, the crack head and his friends went to her house. She hid inside while her junky buddies beat her father with baseball bats.
You're probably wondering, how did I get to know these people. Well, her mother baby sat me once. Only once, because while she was caring for me, she was also caring for her addiction by stealing my dad's wedding band, and some arthritis medicine that was prescribed to my dog. Yep, she stole glucosamine, thinking she might get high off it. Now you might be thinking, Jane wouldn't have been so fucked up, had her mother not been so fucked. You'd be right to say that, seeing as they were a drug collecting team, who would often share their scores with one another. Her mother was beyond an enabler, she was a cheerleader to her daughter's destructive behaviour. But let's not let that excuse anything Jane did. Jack, her little brother, is but a polar opposite, creating his own life, instead of going down the convenient path that was laid out for him.
To me, I can sum her death up in two words: "Good Riddance". One less leech in society. I have enough respect not to voice my opinion to those who, for some reason, care. But I, unlike most, will not be sending my condolences, not even over facebook. To her parents - tough luck. There are consequences for living a life like that, and making those choices. These consequences grow to be more severe the longer you carry on that way. So having let those downfalls slip from their conscious like water under a bridge, what else could they honestly expect?
So now I wonder, why is my facebook page filled with kind messages from those who also knew her? Are they just trying to be nice? Have they suddenly forgiven all just because she's dead? Some of these people were the victim to Jane's bullshit, so when I read "The smith family was blessed with an angel for a daughter", or "she left too soon", I can't help but disagree. Angel is the last thing I'd call her, even if her name was Angelica, and I'm not going to change that just because she got what was coming to her.
This blog was inspired by the recent passing of someone who was once a dear friend of mine. I say "once" because after discovering how shitty she was as a person, I cut ties.
The obituary says she died in her sleep, but having known her, it was probably an overdose. I didn't hate her because she had a drug problem. In my life there has been many people who suffer from addiction, very few I actually disliked for it. I believe that people can live hard lives, and not be miserable and take it out on everyone around them. They may not be what many would consider "good members of society" but they still have empathy, compassion, and are overall kind-natured people, who simply made mistakes.
Not this girl though. Let's call her Jane Doe. Jane was a cunt, and I can think of very few people who were shittier. Her little brother Jack was born with a severe birth defect. To surgically correct these problems, him and his family traveled more than half-way across Canada to see a specialist. They left Jane at home to watch the house while they were gone. During those 2 weeks, Jane pawned off her little brother's gaming systems, television, and other belongings, and spent that money on cocaine.
Jane was also responsible for many break and enters around town. One such house she stole from was her "best friends". Since Jane knew that her friend's family was out of town, she not only stole from them, but made herself comfortable watching movies, eating their food, and having sex with her boyfriend in her best friend's bed, tossing the condom onto the bedroom floor for her friend to clean up when she got home. Her "friend" called police, but they didn't arrest Jane, because there was not enough proof. So her "friend" confronted her, only for Jane to call the cops - her "friend" was arrested for threatening violence against her.
One time she sold a crack head drywall dust, telling him it was cocaine/meth. After the discovery, the crack head and his friends went to her house. She hid inside while her junky buddies beat her father with baseball bats.
You're probably wondering, how did I get to know these people. Well, her mother baby sat me once. Only once, because while she was caring for me, she was also caring for her addiction by stealing my dad's wedding band, and some arthritis medicine that was prescribed to my dog. Yep, she stole glucosamine, thinking she might get high off it. Now you might be thinking, Jane wouldn't have been so fucked up, had her mother not been so fucked. You'd be right to say that, seeing as they were a drug collecting team, who would often share their scores with one another. Her mother was beyond an enabler, she was a cheerleader to her daughter's destructive behaviour. But let's not let that excuse anything Jane did. Jack, her little brother, is but a polar opposite, creating his own life, instead of going down the convenient path that was laid out for him.
To me, I can sum her death up in two words: "Good Riddance". One less leech in society. I have enough respect not to voice my opinion to those who, for some reason, care. But I, unlike most, will not be sending my condolences, not even over facebook. To her parents - tough luck. There are consequences for living a life like that, and making those choices. These consequences grow to be more severe the longer you carry on that way. So having let those downfalls slip from their conscious like water under a bridge, what else could they honestly expect?
So now I wonder, why is my facebook page filled with kind messages from those who also knew her? Are they just trying to be nice? Have they suddenly forgiven all just because she's dead? Some of these people were the victim to Jane's bullshit, so when I read "The smith family was blessed with an angel for a daughter", or "she left too soon", I can't help but disagree. Angel is the last thing I'd call her, even if her name was Angelica, and I'm not going to change that just because she got what was coming to her.
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