My Last Letter: When you care enough to send the very worst
If you’re anything like me, your life has but one driving purpose - to shatter the lives of those you cared for after you’ve died. Thankfully, with My Last Letter, now you can enjoy the fun and frivolity of getting the last word in while maggots are making a buffet of your cold, dead flesh.
Yes, for but a pittance, My Last Letter will send your words to whomever you chose after you’ve safely bit it. Want to finally tell someone that you secretly love them? Want to tell someone that you secretly never really loved them? Want to tell someone that you slept with their spouse? Well, now you can, with the security that only death brings.
Founder of My Last Letter, Damien Hawkins, wraps it up perfectly - in these crazy, mixed-up times, who has the strength of character to stand up and say what they really feel. Better to wait until it’s a scientific impossibility to stand up at all, then let your feelings be known.
“Anyone who uses the service can rest assured that they’ll always be able to let their loved ones know how they truly feel,” writes Hawkins. “That’s a huge comfort to our customers and of course the recipients of their letters.”
In the “Popular Uses” section of My Last letter, they give some ideas on why you’d want to use their macabre service: To send Inspirational letters of love and hope to family and friends; to unveil lifelong secrets and information of a sensitive nature; to deliver self-penned memorials and obituaries; and to communicate words which couldn’t be spoken or expressed during life.
It’s that last bit that encompasses the beyond-the-grave-messages of things like “Now that I’m dead, let me just say I always thought you were a dink,” or “I’m still an atheist, I don’t care how much I screamed for God’s help those final moments,” or “I totally slept with your sister,” and such. You just can’t put a price tag on such final wordism.
Of course, My Last Letter also means you never have to shut up. Imagine if Henry David Thoreau had this service available? He didn’t, however, thus his final words “Moose. Indian.” remain shrouded in mysticism, when he could have just jotted off an e-mail beforehand explaining the significance.
So, head over to My Last Letter and begin the process of unburdening your soul. Because nothing says I love you any stronger than creeping the hell out of someone and sending them a personal e-mail several months after you died.
–WKW