Okay, I've made a translation of that letter he (didn't) write:
"When I met her (the writer treats the cocaine as a female), I was 16.
We met thanks a men who called himself "friend" of mine.
It was love at first sight.
I was mad about her.
Our love finally got the point in which I couldn’t live without her.
But it was a forbidden love.
My parents didn’t approve it.
I was expelled of my school, and we started meeting secretly.
But I couldn’t stand it, it finally droved me crazy.
I wished her, but I didn’t own her.
I couldn’t let them to put me over her…
I loved her: I destroyed my car, broke all that was inside my home, and I almost kill my sister… I was crazy, I needed her.
Today I’m 39; I’m confined to an hospital and I’m helpless and I will die forsaken for my parents, friends, and for her.
I owe her my love, my life, my destruction and my death.
He wrote it before he died of AIDS.
If you find it important, spread it away."
Hate the one who wrote it.
An interview? Oh, don't be ridiculous...