Exercising some of my own demons here ... It's a drunk/wasted rambling POV and it's really dark.
It's fucking romantic, in a way. I could be like River fucking Pheonix … just go out in a blaze of glory. Millions of people will know my name ... and cry. It's a tragic tale, but you know how it goes, live fast, die young, leave a good lookin' corpse. I just want to get as fucked up as I possibly can today. By the end of the night, I want to not be able to think. I want to not be able to feel this pain. I want to not be able to remember anything. The more wasted I get, the further away the real world gets. I could laugh, and have fun ... people want me to be this way. They chant my fucking name. For that hour, I'm on top of the world.
I go through the day in a haze. I meet up with more and more people who give me more and more booze. I meet up with one particular person, who slips me an 8 ball. By 5pm, I'm loaded but the coke has my head buzzing. I'm bouncing off the walls. I see the members of my band and they all give me dirty looks. I can tell what they're fucking thinking. They're thinking, 'is he gonna be able to do it?' Fuck yeah, I can do it. It's what people come here to see and I'm gonna give them that.
I hit the stage and I'm bulletproof. I'm like evil Captain Kirk ... you know, the one where he got separated from his good half in the transporter? He's a total badass. He wants something, he takes it. He would have screamed 'fuck you!' to the crowd, just like I am. I'm fucking laughing and no one knows what I'm laughing at. I'm having a great fucking time.
I'm covered in sweat. Even I can't stand how bad I smell. I feel like I'm drenched in drugs, and alcohol ... and self pity. There's still chicks screaming my name. How fucked up is that? They must be as loaded as I am. I slip back stage and someone hands me a bottle of vodka. Beer then liquor, never sicker. Oh ... fucking ... well.
I'm in a hallway somewhere. I just puked on the stairs, then slipped in it, stumbled, and hit the opposite wall on the landing. I'm sliding down the wall. The ceiling is black and the walls are red. I can feel my stomach churning. My heart is beating out of my chest. I'm trying my best to get my jacket off 'cause I'm burning up. My mouth is starting to fill up with spit. I can't get up. I lean forward and puke in my lap. I hear a familiar voice. It sounds really far away. I think it's my brother ... or maybe Ray. I guess they've come to save me ... again.
I snap out of it for a few seconds. Puking sometimes does that to you ... you know, you feel better once you do it. I manage to get up with a little help. It was Ray. He tells me I need to get my shit together. I tell him I have to piss. Frank is walking on the other side of me. He's not saying a word. I guess he's tired of being my baby sitter. I'm barely walking when we leave the building. I ask why we're leaving ... and mention I still have to piss. I almost run into some big dude. He's security. He tells me we can't hang out inside the building anymore. I see some other people I know outside. It's a long walk to the bus. I break away from the guys and start heading for the wall of the building. I see these two girls standing there. I think they're friends with one of the other bands. I remember the one chick. Yeah, I totally remember her. I stumble up and say hi. The one I remember just looks at me and says right to my face, 'you're a creep, Gerard'. Sweet girl, really. I really have to piss. I think I said that out loud. I guess it doesn't matter if she already thinks I'm a creep. She says something else but I don't hear her. I'm headed for a dumpster that's near the wall. Somehow I manage to lean up against it and piss. I hope that I didn't hit my shoes. I notice that no one is really around, so I reach into my pocket and I pull out the 8 ball. I need it to level out the alcohol in my system. I take a few bumps then stuff the wad back into my pocket.
I'm walking back to the buses and there are bands partying all around. Some see me and wave me over. They don't stand too close 'cause I fucking reek like sweat and puke. I'm so fucking high. I slam another beer and then I'm trying to find our bus.
I'm leaning up against a bus, not sure whose. I don't see anyone right around me. I reach in my pocket for the wad of coke. Fumble around and do another bump.
You ever have one of those moments in your life where you do something and then panic starts to rise from deep down in your gut and a little voice in the back of your mind screams at you, 'you fucked up'? The second that coke hit my brain I knew I had fucked up. How I'm still forming complete thoughts right now I don't know. I'm lying on the asphalt, in a puddle of my own puke. My heart feels like it's barely beating- just a thud every now and then. My head feels like it's going to explode and if I stop moving, I'll die. I think of all the people in my life that I love. I think about how they'll feel finding out I od'd and died in a puddle of my own vomit. Like a real rock star, huh? Involuntary tears are blurring out my field of vision. I can feel someone touching my back. They're asking if I'm okay. That's funny to me in a way. Would a guy writhing around on the ground in a puddle of puke really be okay? It feels like my head is splitting open. My temples throb with every erratic heart beat. I don't want this. I don't want to feel like this. I want my life back. I wasn't through with it ... yet. I wonder if that's what River Phoenix thought? Please God, don't let me die like this. I just have to keep my heart beating. I hear someone ask if they should call the paramedics. I don't want anyone else to see me like this. Maybe I should just die? I'd want a gun though. Put a gun to my own fucking head. Or maybe just slit my wrists? That's pretty dramatic. Yeah, maybe I'll just do that and everything will be okay. But I don't want to go like this for some reason. I feel the muscles in my stomach clench. I have nothing left to throw up. Someone is trying to offer me water. I try to take it but my hands are shaking too bad. Someone else is holding my hand and trying to get the bottle to my lips. I feel like I'm choking. I just curl up on the ground in a ball. I've never felt this bad in my whole fucking life. I keep thinking about my friends and my family. I'm holding on to those thoughts like a lifeline. I have to concentrate on breathing. A couple people have sat down next to me. I swear to myself that if I get through this, I'm never doing coke again.