But I stay true to the thing I love most, music. Never a tiny compromise there. My morals are not that weak.
There has been so much sex.
The drugs have been endless, relentless.
I crave only for the rock n' roll.
It's getting rather easy, playing this fool to the world. They walk all over me at the slightest chance they get, I don't even mind anymore. The alcohol numbs the pain. So I do the only thing I can do-play.
My relationship with the outside world gets worse, the better my relationship with my guitar gets. It is a greedy kind of love, it consumes me; wanting me all to itself, it won't share me with the world. I let the feelings pour out. They don't have to be heard, they just need to come out.
Great artistry comes with great isolation. Or something like that. It is scary, so scary. And yet if I don't believe, now, then what is my strength but a farce?
Losing all perspective feels a strange sort of liberating.
I am no longer me.
I am.
I am.
Only here, now.
I am.
I am.
It's divine to watch the turbulent sky, crying from the suffering. Hurt and yet still so majestic, like the lioness.
My pride cannot be hurt so easily, who am I fooling. My pride is in my ability to be a child, a dog and when needed, a lioness.
I am here to experience greater things.
And those who love me know that they will love me forever...
