Confessions? I fucking hate confessions. They're bullshit. Nothing good comes from confessions. But fine, whatever. Here's my confessions. Not like my life could get any more fucked up.

Confession One: The Man is my big brother Jeremiah. I started using before he started dealing. When he saw how much cash I was spending on that shit, he figured he could make a nice chunk of change selling to other junkies.

Confession Two: I know exactly where I got AIDS. This chick at a party, some little dancer who looked like she was all of sixteen. I can't even remember her fuckin' name. We shot up together. Three weeks later she tracked me down through my brother and told me she'd been diagnosed.

Confession Three: I knew I had AIDS a couple weeks before I slit my wrists. Didn't tell Roger. We fought enough without him throwing that in my face.

Confession Four: Mark told Roger I was a "bad influence" and all that stupid After-school special crap. He was right. I got Roger to shoot up, I got him addicted to drugs, and I gave him AIDS.

Confession Five: I got with Roger because I wanted to know what it was like to fuck a rock star.

Confession Six: I stayed with Roger because he was the first guy who didn't treat me like a cheap slut. Even if I probably was.

Confession Seven: I knew I was pregnant. I knew if I kept shooting up I'd miscarry. I didn't have the balls to get an abortion and there was no fucking way I could tell Roger.

Confession Eight: I couldn't tell Roger because I knew the baby might not've been his.

Confession Nine: I didn't deserve Roger. I know I didn't. I cheated on him. I turned him into a junkie. I fucked up his whole life. I gave him AIDS. He deserved better than that. Better than me.

Confession Ten: I'm sorry.