I Like It When Children Die
People define themselves through their children. When having a child you begin to realize that the ability to create a human being, form it's personality, and watch it develop into a loving and intelligent adult is a gift. Children can give you so much joy with such little effort.
But sometimes children die. You lose them, and the world loses them. They can die from almost anything: Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, Lunaria, a car accident, accidental poisoning, a fire, or murder.
No matter what mode of death befalls a child, I laugh at each and every child death. I even laugh at the mere anxiety over the potential death of a child. I laugh because the greatness of the child is snuffed out.
The world will be deprived of that child's uniqueness forever. All the potential stored within a child ends up putrefying in a tiny coffin and is processed through the digestive tract of a hundred thousand maggots.
The unconditional love it feels is gone. I laugh at the grief of the parents. It is a pain that is light-years beyond my comprehension because I am childless, but I can determine that it is a crushing grief in which your own person-hood is shattered beyond repair.
I am speaking to you. I am speaking to anyone who has lost a child. I know the pain skews your vision and makes you cry in the night, and I wish more suffering upon you so that I may watch your agony get the better of you.
You deserved this loss, and you suffered it because you were a bad parent. There ARE no random accidents. You allowed your child to get sick because you did not take care of it.