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( a letter to a friend)

I'm thirty-eight with about three months to live and I weigh eighty-seven pounds. God's given me a few good days to live here, but the money and the 15 minute hit (if you're lucky), just ain't worth it.


There are a lot of AIDS going around the city.  You're play Russian Roulette. 

See I couldn't stop either and would still be doing it if I could get around. I gotta ask myself, was it really worth it? Everyone has a choice. With crack it’s the hardest, but it all depends on what you want for a life, or if you want one. I tried to be good to everyone, but I got screwed over and over, and ran through the ringer compared to what others were doing. I was hurt by all the lies, was used and left out in the cold.  People truly don’t care. You’ll soon learn, all they  saw was money. They knew we could get it, and if it wasn’t there, we were called hoes, or they threw us out in the cold. Think of the lives we messed up, let alone our own. I pray they don’t find you beat up again, cut up, or gang raped, as a lot of us have been.  We’re nothing to people. Wish I had the  answer or cure, but only God’s got that.                                                                   


Only Jesus can stop the nightmare.”


                                                        Karen passed away of AIDS in 1992.

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