Biography obsession

I may appear, to the naked eye, to be obsessed with rock star autobiographies at the moment. Recently I read Marilyn Manson's the long hard road out of hell.  While I am not tremendously impressed with his music, the persona and the message are interesting. Most interesting was the discovery that he thinks the same way I do. Well, about certain things anyways.

"Doing a drug is okay, but needing a drug isn't… Drugs weren't the root of the problem, they were a symptom."

"He had nailed himself into the all-American coffin: he'd gone to college, gotten his girlfriend pregnant, and now he was going to marry her and be miserable or, worse still, content… all I could think was that I didn't want to grow up and have to tolerate this life that everyone thinks they're supposed to live… There had to be something else."

There has to be something else. There has to. There is no worse fate, to me, than mediocrity. To simply be content with mundane existence. Wake, eat, work, sleep, rinse and repeat. Day after day after day. Is that sufficient reason to be in this world? THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING ELSE. And maybe there was. Maybe I was supposed to have all those moments with my son to cherish. But I threw that away. So maybe I look for it in a syringe. Maybe that is the root of the problem. The interminable emptiness. The vast expanse of nothingness and futility that I inhabit. Or maybe it is just another excuse.

So. Incredibly. Fucking. Trapped.

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One Response to “Biography obsession”

  1. momseekingpeace Says:

    There is a vast emptyness when you lose a child to adoption, even though I swore I would never drink Like my dad, I found myself driking after I lost my son. Thankfully I was able to get sober and stay that way. I know what you feel in that reguard, Ive been there.
    MSP

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