crooked enough to make straight-jackets bent

Oh, dearest!
Something of a most unexpected nature has just occurred and its revelation, most distressing.
I feel like I ought to reason that I too, am in the midst of all its overbearing distress, even while normal circumstances would have ensured a fair degree of frivolity in this matter.
My sister is quite miserably vexed with the sudden loss of - if one can even put a finger around this - a much cherished bottle of fine face wash.
It had been disposed off senselessly by one of such a displaced mind, with no regard to the FULL contents of the bottle.
But the blame cannot be thrown onto just her alone for it must be owned that my sister was herself very careless in its handling.
It was regretful only because of the knowledge that the blunder could have been kept at bay and that there could have been neither side left with heavy guilt.
I feel as if I have a favor to fulfill for the sake of my sister's peace of mind, for despite the inability to retrieve what is presently lost, there is still a sliver of a chance to procure a replacement for the bottle.
I would have done it with little inconvenience if I had the means of getting it, but la! there is none.
I wish for a little money perhaps, to help me get along, but I suppose if sincerity (and a little exertion on my part) prevails, a little will certainly emerge.
It is quite worrisome, really, to see my sister so upset; it would be relieving to alter that state.
I think for her the bottle carried value for the luck (oh the irony for such an unlucky thing to befall onto her then!) it signifies, for she was able to own something so expensive - it was of a value of $85 - only by winning a kind of lucky draw.
How regretful this is - how regretful this all is!
Oh, feel for me, dearest! I am most anxious.


I had no reason before this to write, but I recognize no other way to vent the rage from the unfairness of the situation.
But I feel that rage only as sorrow for my poor sister, for whom I yearn only tranquility.
My well-being, on another hand, is presently fine, and I cannot wish for more upon myself.