Dear Mr. Frank Sinatra,
Some people think me weird for listening to your music. For listening to music from the fifties, though truth is, they're the crazy ones! You weren't just a singer. You were an artist, a friend, an inspiration, a lover... a pure genius.
I'm currently reading a biography on you and I'm learning so many things about you that I didn't know before. For example, you were selfless and kind and generous and funny and loving and you had swagger. ;) The fact that you kept on continuing to help your friends in the early fifties when you had nothing left except for spare change and a broken heart, and you kept on being selfless, donating so much money to people and organisations... anonymously even, and... I can just go on about how amazing you are.
I love you, and the fact that your birthday is 4 days before mine. I wish you were still alive.
And here I am going on and on like I know you.
I hope my readers don't fancy me a creeper... (O_o)
I'm not. You're just a huge motivation in my life. You're hope. Hope that there's something else out there other than the same ol' crap that plays on the radio.
I want to share your brilliantness with the whole world. :]
Dear Ol' Blue Eyes, leader of the Rat Pack, there just isn't anyone else out there like you.