Mom’s Deathversary Year 8

It’s the 8th anniversary of my mother’s death, it’s Friday the 13th, and I’m in Facebook Jail for calling someone a stupid cunt. At the tender age of 33, I became an orphan. I knew very little about adulting then, but look how mature I am now.

I’d done a few ‘social experiments’ on Facebook before to see what Herr Zuck would tolerate, since a bunch of the crazies got thrown off Facebook (I’d share Alex Jones and Paul Joseph Watson crap just to see if I’d get censored ). Zuck, however, knows my actual political affiliation better than I do.

I wasn’t even trying to get in trouble, but the cunt who I called a cunt snitched on me. My mother, who was the nicest person, wouldn’t have approved. I wish I could talk to my mom. I’d tell her about being forsaken by various people since her death, Trump, and I’d apologize for a lot.

My friend, who doesn’t want anything much to do with me, has told me more than once that I could’ve saved my mom. If I’d taken her temperature or insisted even harder that she go to the doctor. Friends, am I right?

2 thoughts on “Mom’s Deathversary Year 8

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