Send your unsigned legible confessions and accusations of 400 words or less, changing the names of the innocent and guilty, to "I, Anonymous," c/o The Stranger, 1535 11th Ave., Third Floor, Seattle WA 98122, or e-mail us at anonymous@thestranger.com.

Sweet Jesus, and all of Seattle as well: Have mercy on my wicked soul. I always knew that desire would be my eventual undoing, and here I stand with my fly and my emotions all undone. Indulge me while I take a moment to flog myself with justified self-criticism....

Dear Me,

How could you have been so fucking weak? Not only is he a married father of two, but he also happens to be a blood relative! What are you, a goddamned white-trash, redneck trailer tramp? I don't care how sexy he is in that undershirt, or how he makes you melt into a puddle of defenseless mush when he holds you in his arms and tells you how soft your skin is -- he's your fucking UNCLE for chrissakes! The brother of your MOTHER. Hello? Do you really want your life to become a V. C. Andrews novel? Oh forgive me, general public, for I know not what I do! I swear, the next time he runs one hand through my hair with and opens the door to his daughter's room with the other, I will resist. Temptation will not control me!

-- Anonymous