The first time he read it, he couldn't believe it was real.

The second time he read it, he started to tear up. What kind of joke was this? Who would play such a cruel thing on a sensitive, young man?

But there was something about the letter that did not seem fake - there were too many truths, too many details. And he had never seen paper like this before...

"Dear Asshole,"

Yes, but who wasn't? He was no worse than the bankers, or the lawyers.

"Kill yourself. Just save us all the trouble now, and kill yourself. Your life's work is the worst thing that has ever happened to this planet."

Now that part simply couldn't be true. He had only started learning, and he did not yet know his life's work. Maybe it would be landscapes, or maybe it would be sculptures. The world of art was open to all kinds of inspiration.

"You think you're so great, but you're not. You're the scum of the Earth. You have no friends-"

That part was true, at least.

"-only blood-sucking allies, who feed off of your so-called 'greatness'."

This part, he simply could not comprehend. But it was the next line that caught his attention:

"You're wretched hate for the people who you think control everything is unfounded, foolish, and shows us all what a true coward you always were."

This, he could not handle. How did they know he was so afraid of his professors at Art College?

"You should just leave it all behind, and choose another life, Asshole."

That's how the letter ended.

Adolf crumpled it up in his hands, and dropped it in the street. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

Maybe the letter-writer was right. Maybe he should give up on his dream of being an artist. Maybe he, Adolf Hitler, should find a new purpose in life...