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Dear Blanca,

'Dear Blanca' sounds stupid, I don't speak poshly, posh people are dicks.

Yo Blanca

huh, that sounds more like me, so second letter I ever write, yippie. 

Believe what you want, babe. You step foot into this shithold I've been stuck in, and you'll be dragged into it, it's like a vortex or a black hole, get too close and it'll snatch you away from the sanity of your mind, and into the world of madness, fear, and complete idiocy.

Damn, I sounded posh then, didn't I? Whatever, I'm not re-writing some letter for this bloody service.
Before I go into the details of the reason you're stuck reading this lousy excuse for a letter, I don't do trust.

Last time I placed my trust in someone else's hands, I ending up being handcuffed to a car. A police car, might I add.

So the whole 'trust' shit, ain't going to work.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'd never exactly put any amount of trust in a complete stranger.

Back to the point, you have to go through the torture of reading my amazing letters, because the cops and my folks want to know a few things, that amazingly, I figured out.

How can I figure something out, faster than the cops that are holding me down?

Why don't you answer that question?

Logan

P.S. Sorry you have to do this.

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Mack

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