Dear Sunny,

I never mind your punches. They remind me that I am still alive. When so few thinks make me want to live, it is a comfort to know that interaction with you gives me something to look forward to.

I can learn new tricks; I will surprise you. Like recognizes like. We are magnets drawn together. Perhaps it is not correct to say that I am careless. It is more accurate that I do not have many things for which I care. When I find something to care about I try to understand it. There are things in this world that I strive to understand. I am as surprised as you that you are one of them. I have told you before, I quite like it when you hit me. I do not know if that is comforting to you.

It is not your reputation that keeps me coming back for more either. I make sport of corrupting good girls, but you are not like the others. I do not believe that you are corruptible. I like you as you are.

I mean only that you should keep your lips ready. I especially like the gloss you wear that tastes like strawberries.

Yours,
Stasi