I am a rotten son-of-a-bitch. Now what shall I do ? I'm miserable,
but, what shall I do ? Hoe could I try when I didn't know what to try
or work at ? Please belive me. I will try to be more serious. I know
that you are the best woman that I have ever known. You are, above
all, loyal, and you are what the Mexicans call "buena persona," that
is a good, kind, considerate person.
There have been certain things which you have exhibited that displease
me, but, holy smoke, not enough to make me do and act the way in which
I did. Basically, the problem or te reason for the conflict lies
within me. But so help me, I don't know what to do. Please forgive me
for being a sick bastard. Maybe I'll go to a neurotic psychiatrist.
Oct. 24 1957
~ con safos ~