Happy Birthday Rose
Rosary,
I called Amy’s cellibone yester hoping to be regaled with exaggerated accounts of your gluttonous birthday celebration only to hear her deadpan monotone tell me that you had split following a rather brutal confrontation with Fin and a night of binge drugging (thanks in no small part to your increasingly irresponsible younger sibling) I thanked her for being there for you and scolded her for using Ecstasy to coax you out of your room when coke alone would have sufficed.
She tells me you’ve run away to Victoria, cause Corina is awful and a return to Cortes is impossible. Fine by me, but I just want to know you have a roof over your head and some one near who can take you up in their arms…
I love you and I’m worried. I’m also devastated that your birthday turned out this way, you deserve nothing but the best and for some reason God has it in mind to continuously drag you through the mud. Why? why oh why?
You know, and I keep getting down on my life and feeling like nothings working out but every time i feel like I’m sinking, the bottom just comes right out for you and my problems seem so small.
You should know I’m toying with the idea of becoming an art dealer, and travelling the world pimping out the artists I will represent, and you will be my star performer, so remaining sad will have it’s advantages…. so long as you can maintain production.
anyways please write me or call me to let me know you’re alright, and where you are. O.K?
I love you so much and if something bad happened to you, I’d die.
Love Alexandre.
