She was a selfish, miserable cunt, despised by everyone who knew her. She was an influencer.
She overdosed — excuse me, passed unexpectedly — on a combination of booze and antidepressants, only days after a fresh round of fillers.
For her final selfie, she was posed in a bikini, pouting with inflated duck lips, her cheeks hollowed out from black-market Ozempic, showing off her latest pair of tits.
With her chemically peeled skin and a half-inch of makeup, she looked like a prepubescent alien — some dysmorphic spawn from a dystopian nightmare.
When they livestreamed the funeral, one of her followers typed: “OMG, she’s such a beautiful corpse”, before scrolling absently to another video.
And that’s the only thing that matters in life, right?