I’ve been a lesbian popstar for nine-years, and the funny thing is, I’m not even a lesbian. I guess that makes me a liar. I was created by a label to sell records to a certain demographic. Here’s what I know now that I didn’t know then- I’m a construct, a fantasy for middle-age perverts. I’m the musical equivalent of a whore.

This is what I think about when I’m riding in our tour bus. We might spend a lot of time on the road, certainly more time than we spent recording our one record, ‘Injustice’, but I get a lot of time to myself. My lesbian “partner”, Gabby, is in the back right now, probably high on coke and getting slammed by her boyfriend. No, she’s not gay either. Big surprise, I know.

My therapist asked me to keep a journal while I am away from her. I guess it’s to keep me from going crazy, but if this gets out, cutting will be the least of my problems- I’ll be fired, sued, and my fans will turn on me. I’m just trading one problem for another.

My name is Patrice, I’m a Wildcat and I hate my life.