I started working as a streetwalker and ended up at HIV

This song is not written to shock, provoke, or sensationalize.
Despite its blunt title, it is a quiet, human record of survival, told from the inside of a life that society prefers to summarize in a single line.

The artist name "Darenimoienai" frames the entire work:
this is the voice of someone who exists outside easy sympathy and outside simple blame.

The protagonist does not deny responsibility, nor does she reduce herself to a victim.
What the song captures is the space after the judgment, after the headlines, after people think the story is "over."
It is about what remains when someone must continue living with consequences-without applause, without forgiveness, without explanation.

The repeated chorus mirrors the labels imposed by society.
But instead of rejecting them, the narrator reclaims the words, stripping them of gossip and turning them into lived truth.
What hurts most is not the illness itself, but the way people look away-
how exclusion happens before touch, before conversation, before humanity.

There is no dramatic redemption arc.
No miracle.
No sudden hope.

What exists instead is something quieter and stronger:
taking medication, planning tomorrow, watching morning light enter the room,
and choosing to live a time that is not "sold," not valued, not seen.

This song does not ask for pity.
It does not demand understanding.
It simply refuses the idea that a person's life ends at their worst decision.

This is not a confession.
It is not a warning.
It is a daily log of someone who is still here.

And that persistence-
living, carefully and silently-
is the song's most powerful statement.