Dear Cocksucker,

Sorry, I don't know that that is the right term. Asshole seems to weak. Motherfucker perhaps? Douche bag? I don't know. There are so many to choose from. But it doesn't matter as long as we're clear that I'm not overly impressed with you at the moment.
I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for breaking into my car in the middle of the night, you cowardly fuck. And thanks for stealing my CDs, you fucking shitbag.
That must be one hell of a sense of self-entitlement you have there. Taking what's not yours. Taking what I had to work for. I don't know what you think, that it doesn't matter, it's only a few small things. Things no one will miss. Things that are easily replaceable.
I regretfully have to inform you that you are wrong. Very wrong. As small as the things are that you took and however replaceable you think they may be, the fact is, you're wrong.
I'm broke. Beyond broke. The things I have, I had to work for. Every last one of them. Including the things you took. It's just not in the budget to replace any of them. Maybe to someone $75 isn't a lot of money, but it is to me. And I don't have it to spare.
And you know what? I shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to be replacing things that you fucking stole from me because you're fucking lazy ass can't find gainful employment. Because you're too fucking stupid to get a job of your own. Because you think it's a fucking joke to take, take, take from everyone and everything around you. You worthless piece of shit.
So thanks a fucking bunch. I hope my things make you very happy and I hope you catch something red and itchy that oozes puss and burns. I hope you catch it on your face and I hope that it's untreatable.
Always,
-Gwen