dear adrian...

[Evan Lear]

Adrian,
Hey, it's Evan. One of the shrinks said I'd probably be allowed to send you letters, so... here I go.
How's the ward been since I left? Are you doing any better? I guess they're looking to transfer you soon, right? I mean, it was for teenagers, you're getting too old for it. They'd better send you somewhere good. If you end up with another one like Dad, well... I guess they're to blame for it this time, maybe they'd learn something. Anyway, how're Cassie and Bex? Say hi to them for me, if they're still there, and keep taking your meds, yeah? I don't want to get out of this place and find that you've been chucked straight back in jail. That would suck dick, big-time. I'd have to pay your bail, and can you imagine me getting a job and earning money? Yeah, right. But, who knows, maybe this place'll do me good. Maybe I'll become a real person. Maybe I'll join a band, but that's not likely. It's a bitch, really, that the only instrument I can play is one that's not designed for solo acts. You know what I'm like with other people.
As for me, it's OK here, I guess. There aren't many people, yet; I'd guess at about thirty kids and twenty-odd staff, so it's fairly quiet, which is good. The music rooms are great; there are more musicians than anything else, about six of them including me, so it can get pretty loud, but it's nice. You can do more or less what you like, which is cool. Maybe you should start learning guitar or drums or something, that way we could actually play something when we're both out. If we ever get out, that is.
Anyway, that's all dream-talk, really. It probably won't happen, but I like thinking about it. If you're allowed to write back, do. It'd be great to hear from you, mate.
Evan